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Sunday, June 15th, 2014

Commander Walters paced his office, turning over The Robotnik Problem. The man chewed through agents even faster than he had the soldiers. The job was infamous within G.U.N.; the commander had been assigning "help" for the last several years, and everyone treated it like they were sacrifices to the government's own minotaur.

Robotnik sniffed out every bug, bricked every phone, and dressed down every spy with a viciousness that said, "I know exactly why you're here, and you will fail." Most only lasted a few weeks before being dismissed or requesting a transfer.

The commander pulled up the active duty roster and sorted it by closest to completion of mission. Many of these were advanced operatives, not the kind of people you could just pull out of deep cover for some light domestic espionage. But the doctor was in Europe this week, and Walters had one agent who could probably push their completion date up by a fortnight or two. The man was one of their best, intelligent, adaptable, highly educated, and his reports showed incredible attention to detail.

•

Agent Stone conserved ammo as much as possible, preferring stealth and knives to even a silenced firearm. After all, they didn't send in a single agent for a mission this big unless it absolutely could not be connected to the United States. He'd worked hard the last eight months, ingratiating himself to all manner of the criminally inclined in order to gain the trust of the inner circle. He'd become indispensable to their operations, and collected more information about the (previously) U.S. backed terrorist outfit than could fit in his reports. 

The insistence that he wrap this up ahead of schedule was surprising. He'd already rearranged the security schedule last week, so it shouldn't be a problem, but it still gave him pause.

He started with the leader—the actual leader, not the wannabe cultist figurehead—and spiraled out from there. He stalked the shadows of the decrepit office building, silent, pervasive and inescapable as sarin. Once he culled the brains of the operation he moved to the most charismatic members, the most competent. The hard-working friends he'd made this year. 

He'd been almost perfect. But not even the most carefully crafted security schedule in the world could account for Boris and his constant slacking off. Of course he wasn't following the new shift rotation.

The big man caught him off guard in the break room, crouched over another kill, and broke a chair over the agents head. It got messy and loud quickly, and while the most dangerous members of the group were already dead, sheer numbers had overwhelmed him eventually. He'd taken another nine men down before they could subdue him, and used his teeth to rip Boris a new hole to breathe through. 

Stone was roughly cuffed, then thrown in a printer room turned interrogation cell while the remaining terrorists got into their heads exactly how screwed they were, then panicked when they realized the highest-ranked living member of their little militia was responsible for the bloodbath.

His own blood pooled along his side, soaking into his shirt and tactical vest. He blinked blearily and tongued his false molar. "Fuck."

•

Dr. Robotnik was checking over the new prototypes after field-testing—and running a few more illicit errands—when a call from Commander Walters was patched into the van. He rolled his eyes and finished buffing out a scratch in a badniks white shell before answering on the last ring. "To what do I owe the displeasure, Commander?"

"Dr. Robotnik, you should be happy to know your request for a new assistant has been approved."

"I believe my request was for a 'higher caliber' of knuckle-dragging babysitters and Uncle Sam's stalkers—oops! I mean bodyguards. You could at least find me a lackey with more than two brain cells to rub together." He gestured dismissively at the agent trailing in behind him. "Agent Bologna here is less useful than a balsa wood toothpick." Malone deflated, shoulders slumping in her sharp suit.

Walters ignored the insult, well-acquainted with the man's prickly personality. "Agent Stone is one of our best, I'm sure he'll be a capable asset. We'll send him to meet you as soon as his last mission is wrapped up." A ping was heard through the scratchy audio feed, and Walters frowned at his desktop. "Hm. Change of plans, Doctor, you'll have to go to him. He needs an extraction."

"Well he can't possibly be that good then, can he?"

Walters chuckled, "You'll see, Robotnik. If you hurry up with the rescue mission, that is."

Agent Malone drove them two hours from the bombed out ruins of Nowhere, Bulgaria to an only slightly less war worn area of the continent while the Doctor reloaded the badniks. His precious babies were technically still in development, their aim not precise enough to satisfy his mile-wide perfectionist streak. But there were a few tweaks he could make before they saw their first real firefight.

•

The further Robotnik made it into the building, the more generous his assessment of the agent's skills became. He had not been impressed with the number of low-level grunts his bots had to take out at the beginning, but the pattern of violence that weaved through the building spoke of a highly calculated and tactical mind. Screams and rapid gunfire echoed through the halls around him as his drones hunted down the last combatants. He hissed, "Birdie!" at Basic Recovery Drone 1 and had it start scanning for life signs. He followed the trail of destruction that culminated in a room crowded with a total of eleven corpses. He let out a low whistle, "Not bad for one guy."

The badnik chirped behind him, pulling his attention to a door further down the dimly lit corridor. "How many?" 

Chirp.

"Incapacitated?" 

Chirp-whistle.

"Hm." He turned and kicked the door in.

Stone startled and stared up at the intruder from the floor, squinting a bit to focus on his mustachioed face. The overhead light glared like a halo behind his head until the man crouched to inspect him. 

The agent was covered in blood, most of it not his own. It was smeared in his beard, some even sticking in his gleaming white teeth when he smiled. "My hero," he breathed, disbelief and awe in his voice.

No one had ever looked so happy to see Robotnik.

He leaned closer, and whistled for BRD1 to run another scan over the prone man. "You have a clear concussion, three puncture wounds in your abdomen, and numerous blunt force contusions. Are you capable of ambulating? I don't want to have to carry you out, you're likely to leak on my coat."

"Yes, Sir." The agent wobbled when he tried to kneel, though.

Robotnik sighed dramatically and grabbed him by the upper arm. Once heaved to his feet, he frog-marched the other man back out through the carnage of the office building, to the tactical van, and delivered him to the arms of his current stooge. "He gets one week off for recovery. If he doesn't show up at the lab on Monday, you're both fired." 

"Sir—"

"Next Monday, obviously. Get the cuffs off him."

Agent Malone eased Stone to the floor of the van. "Hey, man, how're you feeling? Any broken bones?" She pulled a first aid kit and a tool bag off the van's bottom shelves. Stone shook his head and immediately regretted it as his vision swam. Malone undid the cuffs and Stone winced, shoulders smarting and hands tingling. He caught the eyes of his savior and the man's mustache quirked as the agent swayed woozily.

Dr. Robotnik turned back to the old building and pressed a sequence of buttons on his glove. Badniks began to exit broken windows and open doors, settling into a shifting ring around the tall man. Their single red eyes glowed, bobbing around him as he inspected them for damage. He held them gently, looking down the mouth of a dozen barrels with pride and affection. An old but strong muscle twitched somewhere in Stone's chest. Oh no.

"You don't want to miss the finale, agents." Robotnik gestured broadly at the office building. He snapped his fingers, and the remaining windows exploded. Flame billowed out and up, quickly consuming the structure. The doctor let out a mad cackle, arms raised, silhouette looking like a cartoon villain against the pyrotechnics. 

He's gotten weirder.

Thursday, June 19th, 2014

Stone spent two days in the hospital in Frankfurt, then flew back to D.C. just in time to receive the details of his next assignment directly from Commander Walters. 

"Welcome back, Agent Stone. First I'd like to apologize, I recognize that your mission may have ended more smoothly if we hadn't changed the timeline on you."

Stone sat in the commander's office, stateside for the first time in years, looking worse for wear. His beard was a mess, his beaten up backpack between his knees, and there were deep bags under his eyes. Must've been a long flight home. Despite his haggard appearance, the agent looked happy to be there, like Walters wasn't about to give him the worst job he had available. 

"Thank you, Commander. I appreciate how quickly my rescue was arranged."

"Well, don't thank me yet, son. You met Dr. Robotnik, right? What did you think?"

"He's brilliant, Sir. I'm very familiar with his work, his academic writing inspired a lot of my own thesis. He was in top form during the extraction." This might actually work out, if the agent already knew how the man's brain functioned.

"He's smarter n'hell, true, but he's running this agency ragged. He's gone through seventy-three assistants in the last two and a half years. I need someone with a better track record than the newbies we usually assign him, and you're highly qualified."

Stone's eyebrows shot up his forehead. "Sorry, Sir, did you say seventy-three agents?"

"Only forty-eight of them were agents. The rest were soldiers and bodyguards."

Stone sat up in the chair, looking interested. "Does he receive a lot of threats? How many assassination attempts?"

"Yes, and three so far. We're lucky he's such a recluse, frankly." Commander Walters sighed. "Stone, I'm making you his handler. It's a thankless job, but I've got money riding on this one, so make it work."

The agent stood and shook his hand. "Yes, Sir. You can count on me."

Stone spent the weekend recovering from his injuries and reestablishing relationships with his American social circles, sparse as they were. He was thirty-two, largely unattached, and more than ready to throw himself into his next assignment: assisting Dr. Ivo Robotnik. 

While infamous within crime circles and the government rumor mill, the man had been a ghost in the eyes of the general public. They'd both attended Berkeley though, and a young Stone had found some of the doctor's old writing in the library. He'd become enamored with the author, whose views on the ethics of robotics and automation varied wildly between publications. He'd seemed to compulsively argue against his own views, like he couldn't trust anyone else to be smart enough to check his work. 

His critical approach had deeply impacted Stone, helping him to interrogate many of his own opinions and theories. Always ambitious, Stone had received his PhD in mechanical engineering with a minor in computer science at twenty. Then he joined the army and the rest was history, easily manipulated, rewritten, and erased. 

Monday, June 23rd, 2014

Dr. Robotnik awoke at midnight. He'd gifted himself the best birthday present of all: solitude. He intended to spend the next twenty-four hours absorbed entirely in his own work, tweaking code, dis-and-reassembling bots, mocking up different ideas for future mayhem. All in all not terribly different from his normal workdays, except he would not be interrupted. Everyone and their grandmother seemingly needed updates from him, but not today. They knew better after what had happened last year. 

You call in one little bomb threat and suddenly your whole schedule just opens right up.

•

On the first day of his new job Agent Stone did not meet with his charge. He was greeted at the front door of the lab by an egg-shaped drone hovering level with his head, and the other agent who looked exhausted and relieved to see him. 

"Agent Stone."

"Agent Malone." They nodded stoically at each other. 

"It's just going to be you and the robot today. There's a pretty thorough intake and training program to follow, and the doctor shouldn't need your help with anything." She passed over a tablet, keycard, and ring of keys. 

"Thank you." Stone quickly incorporated the items into his pockets alongside his daily carry. 

"No, thank you. I don't think I could take another hour with that man," she sighed. 

Robotnik's recorded voice crackled out of the badnik, "Dismissed, agent 'Forty. Eight. Ding.'" A monotone voice from a numbers station spoke the changing parts of the script. Perfect parts impersonal, artistic, and practical. The lab's wide doors slid open with a hiss and Stone followed the drone inside.

Malone called out, "Good luck, man, you're gonna need it!"

The entrance closed behind him, locking ominously. He was in a small, uncomfortable waiting room. A door on the opposite side opened after the robot scanned his face.

"Welcome to hell, agent 'Forty. Nine. Ding.' The most basic rules are as follows: Don't interrupt me when there's jazz music playing. Don't call me 'Sir,' I am NOT one of your imbecilic blowhard superiors! I am your new god! Doctor is perfectly adequate. Don't walk on the yellow paint. Don't enter the third floor loft without my explicit permission. Don't remove a vehicle from the hangar without signing it out." 

Stone followed the drone as it droned on through the sprawling facilities and committed The Rules to memory. It paused to identify various storage rooms and short-cuts, then continued rolling through a long list of restrictions. The recording echoed across the large and drafty hangar.

"Don't hesitate when I give you an order you don't understand. Given you G.U.N. agents' track record and combined IQ scores I don't doubt there will be an abundance of those. Don't make me repeat myself. Duck." Stone crouched just in time for another robot carrying a steel crate to fly overhead, nearly braining him. He winced as his stitches pulled. Was that a choreographed delivery? Must be a test of the fresh meat.

He was led back towards the hangar until they found the utility elevator. The drone led him on a tour of the fourth floor through a number of rooms concerned with the maintenance of people instead of machines. 

The elevator opened into a large common space. One long wall was a floor to ceiling window, showing a stunning view of the surrounding woodland and the road leading to the lab. It was a bare-bones break room with a television, a couch, and the government's standard low-pile grey carpet panels. It had a connected and cramped kitchenette with a sink, refrigerator, microwave, and coffee machine. 

The door closest to the elevator led to a surprisingly nice bathroom done in black tile, with polished steel counters and deep lockers. Even the toilet was black. Large speakers were set into the wall, and the shower was enormous, with a proportional shower head that Stone thought might be wider than his shoulders.

"Obviously you have no privacy in this building, but the only camera in here right now is the badnik's. You're welcome to the facilities, but I reserve the right to inspect any items left behind. Don't touch the left medicine cabinet."

He was brought to the last door: a well-stocked medical lab with supplies to handle anything from broken bones, to hangnails, to third degree burns, to anaphylaxis. A line of temperature controlled cabinets along one wall contained various medications, blood bags, test tubes, bacterial cultures, and other experiments. One end of the room was completely empty, marked by a yellow and black checkered line, and had two black footprint decals in the center.

"Agent 'Forty. Nine. Ding.' Undress to your comfort level and enter the scanner." The finger-quotes were practically audible. "Stand there until the chime." Stone's eyebrows raised in some disbelief, but he stripped to his underwear and walked across the chilly lab anyway. Malone had said intake would be "thorough."

He stood there for nearly a full minute while weird humming came from the walls, and then a panel above him opened, and an armature descended from the ceiling. Red light scanned over his body, then blue, then something in the machine rotated and clicked. "Extend your arm." Stone did, and his wrist was grasped by cool metal clamps. He tensed but still did not move, and a needle pierced into his vein. Deep breaths. This was probably fine.

•

Robotnik was soldering when he received a camera feed notification and a new project file popped up on his main screen. He furrowed his brow at the interruption, surely Malone would know not to disturb him… Ah. The new agent was here. He clicked on the notification and pulled up the med lab's feed, revealing a half-naked, neatly-bearded man in the process of pulling on his button-up shirt. Robotnik leaned in, squinting at the pixels. 

"Those better not be khakis."

He opened the new file and browsed through the x-rays and shallow tissue scans. There was also a heavily redacted personnel file. Agent Aban Stone. Long list of military accomplishments, longer list of things they would never publicly thank him for. Impressive test scores, a doctorate of engineering, a certificate from some Italian coffee school, and, surprisingly, a list of spoken languages longer than Dr. Robotnik's own. Seems they'd finally seen fit to grant him an ASL interpreter. That spoke well of the year's budget prospects. Bigger crowds, more funding.

Blacked-out was one thing, but there were strange gaps throughout the file as well, in both the military and civilian copies. Whole years erased from his medical history. Well, it was nothing a little deep dive into the scan results couldn't answer. 

Stone had numerous scars across his body, bits where a knife or stray bullet had taken a chunk out of him. The doctor compared their ages with the empty years and found four injuries that lined up. The oldest one twisted over his lower leg, along with a titanium plate screwed into his tibia. From the same month were scars on his pecs, and three small incisions across his abdomen. Then, six months later, a surgically precise rectangle of scar tissue on his thigh. 

Robotnik sat back in his chair, contemplative. A self-made man. Well, this agent was certainly proving himself more interesting than the last… Oh, all of them. He smirked when he saw their blood types were compatible. Convenient.

Tuesday, June 24th, 2014

On his second morning, Stone arrived back home after his run to find an unlabeled package on his porch and a hovering badnik tucked under his eaves. It scanned him and chirped quietly when he made eye contact. He waved at the red lens and took the package inside with him.

He opened it immediately, as the doctor had not made himself out to be a patient man. Inside were nice leather shoes and a black suit jacket, pants, tie, and shirt. He rubbed the material between his fingers, impressed by the fabric quality. "Guess I've got a new uniform." 

He took a quick shower, started his coffee, and got dressed for the day. The suit fit him better than anything off the rack possibly could, and he was impressed by the freedom of movement the cloth provided. It wasn't perfect, but Stone found that few garments he hadn't made himself were.

The badnik had disappeared by the time he left the house again. At least it wasn't constant surveillance.

The drive to the lab was short, but lovely, both his assigned home and the large metal structure tucked into a section of federally owned woodland. He knew it would be beautiful in the fall.

Robotnik startled lightly as the new agent moved into his field of view. He gave the man a quick up and down, glad to see him clothed in unobtrusive black. "Go stand over there and do whatever it is you termites do when you aren't busy bothering me. I hope you were paying attention yesterday."

"Yes I was, Doctor." The agent was quick to comply.

Stone didn't move like any of his previous agents. There was no nervous shuffling, no guilty hunch to his shoulders, no dishonesty in his eyes. He just… Observed. It would be unnerving if the doctor were the type to care. What he did care about was how quiet the man was. He didn't sneak around the lab, he was just silent. He didn't complain, didn't talk back. It was refreshing not to feel like he was babysitting all day.

Dr. Robotnik was busy. He was a man who did it all because he couldn't say no, or his pride refused to let him. He answered every email personally, attended mandatory and irrelevant meetings that had nothing to do with his work, and frustrated his peers and himself when he pointed out how unnecessary it all was.

Stone quickly discovered that his instructions could not keep his mind occupied for much of the day. Notes from previous agents revealed that they had largely also been told to stand at the back of the lab and not interrupt the doctor. Several had been dismissed for zoning out and missing critical directions from the man. More had been inefficient or incompetent, and one notable failure caused an explosion that had maimed them and shut the lab down for two weeks.

All of them had complaints about the doctor.

He was strange, erratic. He made too little eye contact. He hated my perfume. He stared too much. He was crazy. He talked to his robots like they were pets. He tested a vaccine on me without my consent. He drove like a madman. He asked invasive questions about my prosthetic. 

Many of the complaints were about the doctor's insults, often so memorable as to be described as "haunting." The opinions he espoused on religion and politics boggled. He mocked Stone for his military posture, then turned around and called him an imbecile for saying four PM instead of sixteen-hundred.

"Every so often the military manages to produce something useful, Agent."

He went on long diatribes about the state of the world. He revealed details about the foster care system that shocked  and disgusted. He mocked people for having parents at all. He had cutting and bizarrely specific insults for locales the world over. These were the biographical details that Stone would have killed to have in college.

He dismissed the complaints and turned his attentions exclusively to his charge. He filled the tablet with notes and observations. How and when he liked his coffee, the manic shifting of the man's moods, the strange hours he kept. Every instruction from Robotnik was fulfilled with an immediate, "Yes, Doctor." He retrieved materials and tools and familiarized himself with the esoteric way the genius organized his screws. He was ready with a fire extinguisher when the man set his own coat alight. 

He'd found Dr. Robotnik unconscious under the utility van only one week in, and carrying him had been far too easy for someone his height. When the doctor came-to in the medical room he had chewed Stone out for moving him from "—a prime nap spot. I could have gotten right back to work!"

Since then the agent had started keeping track of Robotnik's consumption habits. He scanned the lab's security cameras to log the doctor's distressingly sparse sleep schedule. He brought him water and coffee throughout the day to check his energy levels. The first time he left a granola bar on the man's desk it had been thrown at his retreating back. But only the first time. Stone started shopping before work, stocking the fridge with meal replacement shakes and easy snacks. He had charts dedicated to working out the doctor's favorite foods.

Tablet in one hand and binoculars in the other, Stone kept a close eye on the doctor from across the lab, both worried and deeply curious. He focused on Robotnik's mouth, the minute twitches of his maxillofacial muscles and mustache. Every so often the  doctor would look up at him, suspicious glint in his eye, but was seemingly amused by Stone's close observation. Which was good, because the agent intended to get as accurate a read as possible.

Robotnik leaned back in his chair, head in the clouds, and his fingers once again reached for the plate off to the side of his desk. Stone, still focused in on the doctor's lips, watched as he snapped a carrot stick between his incisors. He liked the crunch, that much was clear, something to dig his teeth into. Stone swallowed, trying to dismiss the thought of where else Robotnik could put his teeth.

He didn't like grapes, or at least he didn't like the lottery that was the possibility of pulling a mushy one. Stone would start inspecting them by hand before he washed them, ensuring only the crispest berries made it to the doctor's mouth. He already spent an objectively silly amount of time in the produce section, choosing fruit and veg with the eye of a 5-star chef. 

Stone was used to eating whatever he could get his hands on, missions not always accommodating his advanced palate, but he wanted, no, needed to do better for Robotnik. The man didn't care for himself hardly at all, seemed to resent that he was stuck in a human form. He managed to keep up a certain level of physical health and strength, but only enough to function at his job, not thrive. It disquieted Stone.

He'd seen what Robotnik looked like happy, or at least healthy. They'd met ever-so-briefly a little over a decade ago. The doctor had been bouncy, fat and full of energy. Aban's justified academic crush had him wanting to dissect the doctor's mind, but Robotnik's vibrant personality and physicality had left a young Stone desperate to get his hands on other parts of the man.

The first time he brought Robotnik a latte was… not a mistake, making the doctor happy could never be a mistake. But the noise he made at the first sip, god. A low moan from the doctor's throat had Stone distinctly grateful that he had to put effort into getting an erection. He watched Robotnik's eyes flutter closed, tension leaking from his frame. The corners of the doctor's lips twitched up in an aborted smile, but it was more than enough praise for the agent. That little monster in his chest perked its head, possessive and pleased to provide for the object of his affections.

The slow rise of Robotnik's energy levels was gratifying, proof he was doing something right, caring so closely for him. Stone's controlling tendencies were not usually looked on positively outside of a military objective, and he'd struggled to pull them back over the years. It was worrying, how quickly the agent found himself falling back into old habits. This time they at least served a necessary function, but if he wasn't careful, Stone knew he could become overbearing. Intense. 

He sighed quietly to himself and Robotnik's gaze flicked to his, brow furrowed. Yes, Stone was obsessed, but maybe this time it would be fine. He'd keep it professional.

"I want one of these on my desk every morning, Agent. That's an order."

"Yes, Doctor," the monster purred.

Monday, July 14th, 2014

After three weeks Stone was Officially Concerned. He bit the bullet.

"Apple slices, Agent? You know what they say about apples and doctors. Trying to send me a message?"

"Yes: You need to eat more."

"YoU nEeD tO eAt MoRe," Robotnik mocked. "Do not presume to tell me what I need. I have a perfectly optimized diet," he did not, "Exercise regimen," no such thing, "And relationship with sleep." Laughable. 

Stone pursed his lips and looked at the bags under the doctor's eyes. "Doctor, the Dymaxion method is not sustainable long term," he implored quietly. "Please. Is there anything I can do to reduce your workload? Whatever it is, let me help." Edith Keeler, don't fail me now. 

Robotnik registered the words with a small pang of nostalgia. Manipulative little barnacle. "I suppose it would be a waste to have you just stand there all day." He nibbled on an apple slice absently while he thought. "Keep the pentagoons out of my hair for the rest of the week. If you do well, we can talk about modifying your job description."

"Thank you, Doctor." Stone grinned at him. 

There was that smile. Robotnik almost thought he had imagined it. He pointed at his plate. "These need peanut butter."

"I'll bring some in tomorrow."

Stone plugged his tablet into one of the computer terminals and got to work.

Organizing the doctor's inbox was both simple and time consuming. He read through a backlog of demands for appearances, requests for timelines, reminders from HR, and threats to reduce his budget. He started drafting the outline for a weekly report that should satisfy all standard inquiries before they could continue draining the doctor's time. 

Organizing his schedule was another beast entirely. Stone cut non-essential appointments out ruthlessly. He rearranged in-person meetings so they fell on the same two days every week, reducing the amount of time Robotnik needed to spend out of the lab. He pushed a number of meetings to his own calendar with the excuse that, "The doctor has been feeling under the weather," and took comprehensive notes. 

For Robotnik's part, it was the most productive week he'd had in years. He hit the flow state on Tuesday and made incredible strides toward hologram development. He picked at the plate on his desk randomly whenever his fingers lifted from a project, giving his hands something to do when his mind snagged over a problem. Stone kept him blessedly caffeinated, often appearing with a fresh cup'a'joe just as the doctor turned to call for him.

On Thursday Stone pulled up on his motorcycle to find Robotnik pacing in the open hangar doors. He had black coverall's tied at his waist, elastic goggles shoved up his forehead, and his face and arms were streaked with motor oil. Stone was almost shocked at how thin he looked when not wrapped in three layers of black fabric. It was even worse than he had conjectured, the doctor had to have been running at a deficit for over a decade. The agent could almost count his ribs through his fitted undershirt.

The tactical van lay in pieces behind Robotnik. "This model is out of date, Agent. We need a new egg-carton." He'd come up with three new vehicle designs by end of day. He rambled excitedly in Stone's direction about the possibilities of a mobile lab, or how fun it would be to fabricate a plane from scratch. The agent listened intently, taking notes on his tablet.

On Friday Stone presented him with a complete rehaul of his projected calendar, startlingly empty for seventy percent of the month. "I thought you could do with a little less oversight." Count that as the first time Robotnik had ever heard that beautiful sentiment.

The doctor raked it over for mistakes but pulling up his agent's calendar revealed where every marginally useful meeting had gone. Stone sent a file with a summary of his notes from each meeting to the main computer. "I also think we could save time on correspondence by sending a newsletter with project updates out on Mondays. Here is the draft for the twenty-first." He passed the doctor his tablet then left to retrieve his afternoon coffee.

Agent Stone was a consummate professional. Never whined, never poked his nose where it didn't belong, and never asked a stupid question. Almost never asked any questions at all, really, which was just barely starting to piss Robotnik off. He just stood there like a fish, wide-eyed and cold. All the most cutting-edge scientific wonders of the world here in his lab, and the man hadn't so much as asked for the wi-fi password. Probably another point in his favor, considering how quickly the doctor would have ripped the files from his personal phone.

Robotnik speed-read and signed off on the newsletter, then started going through the agent's frequently used apps. He hummed as he looked over the spreadsheet comparing his own calorie count and mood, the variables moving upwards in lockstep. Well, Stone was certainly attentive. Maybe there was actually something to this whole assistant concept after all.

Monday, August 11th, 2014

Only one month into the new schedule and Robotnik had already completed all of his contracted work for the year. He found himself pouring more time into his passion project, the badniks. He iterated heavily, testing each upgrade in triplicate before pushing it to the relevant prototypes. No point giving them the same programming when it was more efficient to run multiple builds for comparison. They were technically government property as well, but he'd made it abundantly clear years ago that automating warfare was a project that would take decades. Nature had spent millions of years developing the kinds of features that made man's grip on this planet so absolute. Evolution took time.

The drones were all a little different beneath their chassis, but Stone was beginning to think they had distinct personalities. He knew better, of course, humanity was far from being able to create artificial sapience, but if anyone could've done it it would be Dr. Robotnik.

The two he interacted with most were the first ones he'd met. BRD1, or "Birdie" for short, and Secret Agent Trainer 2, who Stone had taken to calling Numbers for its vocal tick when it needed his attention. Which was surprisingly often. Throughout the weeks SAT2 would search him out with a monotone, "Forty. Nine. Ding," and lead him to different parts of the building, identifying small storage issues and messes that could trip the doctor up. He started keeping closer track of the lab's inventory, noting the materials that had to be restocked most frequently.

BRD1 met him every morning after his run to scan him for purposes yet unknown. It moved differently than the other drones, frequently tilting or twisting forty-five degrees to get a different angle on what it observed. It seemed almost inquisitive. He regularly found Birdie in the break room, it watched him make Robotnik's coffee and would follow him back to the man's side. Stone suspected it was making sure he didn't poison his boss.

Robotnik watched the agent through the reflection of his excessively large monitor when he came to drop off his coffee. The doctor had blueprints pulled up and was putting the finishing touches on a palm-sized mini-nik. When Stone caught sight of the newest addition to the team his eyebrows twitched and he leaned silently over the doctor's shoulder to get a better look at the little miracle.

He jumped when Robotnik yelled at him, "React, damn you! You're colder than my machines!"

"I'm sorry, Doctor, I didn't want to interrupt. It's absolutely marvelous." His voice was warm and low, intimate in the small space between them. His smile was soft and crinkled the corners of his eyes.

The doctor blustered, "Of course it is, I created it." He sipped his coffee and ignored the unfamiliar heat in his gut. Probably indigestion.

Friday, August 29th, 2014

Stone's feet pounded the DC pavement on his early morning run. He kept to right-turns, not yet familiar enough with the area to trust his sleep-stupid brain with a more complicated route. He tried to keep his routines regardless of his location; a change of scenery was no reason to fall out of the groove. He’d missed his runs while undercover, they helped his body wake up even though his mind wouldn’t do so until he got his first cup of coffee. He found he needed to move more as he aged, stiffness settling in his joints while he slept.

He seemed to spend a lot of his life moving. 

Aban’s family had relocated near-annually growing up, so she’d had to get good at making friends quickly. Keeping them had been another thing, though, her attitude and sharp tongue making close relationships difficult to nurture. She had struggled to connect to the vapid, popular kids that always seemed to be at the head of the welcome wagon, and was frequently snubbed by the smarter ones for the crime of being too pretty to trust. She resigned herself to shallow friendships, easily discarded for her academic pursuits, two skipped grades leaving Aban further disconnected from her peers. 

She’d graduated high school the spring immediately following her dad’s death in the field. Her mother was taking it badly, and Aban fled the stifling atmosphere of grief that consumed the house in favor of the chaos of living on her own. She embraced the distraction the internet provided, becoming entrenched in San Fransisco's local hacker scene. Living in one place for longer than a year allowed her to make a few real friends, and discover the fluttery feeling that filled her when a smart girl gave her the time of day. 

Then, revelation.

Robotnik’s influence on Aban’s young mind couldn’t be overstated, it was life-changing. A way of looking at the world that discouraged taking the easy way out, questioning always the motives of yourself and those surrounding you. Stone plucked at the beliefs she’d built herself around, discovering himself for the first time in recontextualized dysmorphia and memories of cousins who’d thought she was a boy when first introduced. His father’s disregard for gendered naming conventions suddenly seemed remarkably prescient.

Stone felt almost grateful for his disinheritance, to his ultimately guilty surprise. He doesn’t know that he would have survived bootcamp without it. Joining the military after 9/11 had not been one of his more well-thought-out ideas, and his name change—reactionary, emotional—had given his features a degree of ambiguity he did not take for granted. Combined with his fluency in Spanish—plus a few other languages—and customer service smile, it was enough to keep the worst of the heat off him. Well. Her, to the brass.

That, before any missions, before being swept up by G.U.N., was his first taste of undercover work. Going back to butch was almost easy, not as much of a stretch as the performance of perfect daughter had been. He was cocky, charming, subtly manipulative, and well-respected. Liked, even, as long as you didn’t get on his bad side. He laughed with his new friends, talking shit about the gringos they were stuck in basic with. He shared recipes he learned in the Mission from college-friends’ mothers, commiserated with the "other girls" over sexist comments from their superiors. He found lying about his childhood easy, able to slide a localization over top of most of his upbringing. Beloved traditional recipes, experiences growing up brown in America, deep family bonds and multigenerational households. 

Hard-ass grandmothers were largely universal, it seemed. When Stone was a young girl her grandma had a dog. Azizi was a small terrier of indeterminate breed, energetic and dependable. He had been her teta’s constant companion since Baba had passed, and he protected her ankles with a fearsome look in his eyes. Aban had started taking him for walks when Teta’s arthritis had gotten bad. Azizi’s short legs would pick up the pace, faster and faster until Aban was sprinting to keep up with him, lungs heaving and skin itchy from how flushed she had gotten.

Stone ended his run outside of the coffee shop near their hotel. He caught his breath, yawning and stretching his warmed up muscles in the early morning light. The bell over the door rang as he entered. He ordered coffees and breakfast sandwiches for himself and the doctor, consuming his on the walk back. He keyed into their shared room, footsteps silent as he crept to Robotnik’s bedside.

"Good morning, Doctor." A groggy hum came from the pile of blankets. "I brought back coffee, and an egg and cheese on focaccia." A bare hand wyrmed out of the nest and made grabby-fingers, and Stone slipped a paper cup into it with a small smile. "I’ll be out of the bathroom in fifteen, try to eat before the sandwich goes cold." Robotnik grunted, and Stone went to take his shower and get ready for the day.

They shared toiletries on their business trips, the agent more than content to smell like the doctor. It was only logical, especially with them being in such close proximity.  Robotnik’s keen senses made cologne a real hit or miss, inspiring his ire or drawing him closer as he tried to deconstruct it. Stone had to experiment a bit to find a scent the doctor would enjoy, the man partial to more subtle florals and citrus. Stone used a lightweight lavender oil to smooth his hair down and a slightly spicy perfume that carried notes of ginger and orange. 

The man in the mirror was everything Stone had always wanted to be. Confident, capable, respected in his field. Handsome, if he allowed himself a conceited moment. The all-black suits the doctor had provided him looked good, made Stone feel like he belonged at Robotnik’s side. They delineated him from the other agents, and hid the oil stains he inevitably picked up around the lab. He straightened his tie and gave his reflection a last assessing glance before leaving the bathroom. It was nice to have a uniform again.

"Morning, Agent." Robotnik shuffled past him with his clothes under his arm, hair and mustache a mess, eyes bright, morning breath tempered by the second coffee he was sipping. 

Stone smiled warmly at him. "Good morning, Doctor. What’s on the radio today?" 

"A little Fleetwood Mac, I'm feeling spiteful."

Stone packed their bags as the doctor sang in the shower, making sure they had everything for their meetings ready. They liked to checkout early and head back to the lab as soon as the workday ended. Stone considered himself more of a home base than the hotel room when they traveled, with his backpack full of essentials and the suitcases full of advanced tech. He was prepared to leave at the shortest notice, whether because Robotnik had pissed someone important off or just had enough of others’ stupidity for the day. It was important to be prepared.

He chugged his second cup of cooled coffee quickly, not impressed with the quality. He’d have to start bringing his own grounds along; even a hotel room’s crappy drip machine would be better than the burnt beans every commercial coffee house in the area seemed to use. Stone investigated the doctor’s sandwich wrapper, finding it half eaten, a real accomplishment. He wasn’t one to waste food, and so ate the remaining half, not allowing himself to consider any other motivations. Indirect kisses were for adolescents, not seasoned professionals.

"Stone, you dog!" 

"Mmphk—" The agent choked on an inhaled crumb.  

Robotnik pointed at him from the bathroom doorway. "Sneaking table scraps from under my nose, I should smack you with a newspaper!" 

"Sorry, Doctor."

"You will be, this is enough material on its own for a two hour comedy special." He grinned, reminding Stone that most primates considered bared teeth to be a threat display. "Apparently my service animal needs more training, if he can't keep his nose out of the trash."

Stone protested, "It was on the table!" 

"Even worse! How would you know I wasn't saving it for later?" 

The agent raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I'm more than happy to bring you another sandwich, Doctor."

"Don't bother, I already find your humiliation to be adequate sustenance for the rest of the day." Robotnik was exultant. "This will keep me going for a long while."

Stone attempted to sidestep the mockery. "Are you ready to go? We have a security meeting at eight."

"Of course, Agent. I'll allow you to herd me, I know working breeds need the stimulation."

Thursday, September 11th, 2014

Stone was a little surprised it had taken so long for him to slip up. Literally in this case. Thunderstorms and rain had him driving cautiously, arriving late in his government issued SUV. He trailed water inside when he parked in the hangar, and didn't immediately notice the leaks that had sprung in the aging building's roof. They would need to be on the road before sunup, and he was distracted, double-checking everything he needed to pack. 

Stone could hear the doctor stomping and shouting through the ceiling. "Birdie! Medic! Get to your departure gate posthaste!" Stone ducked just in time for the two badniks to whiz overhead on their way to the car. He double-timed it up the stairs. "Stone! Where's my laptop? If you moved it I swear on Newton's wrinkly—"

"Here, Doctor, next to your suitcase." He passed the slim protective bag over and scooted the wheeled luggage toward the elevator. The doctor took it and Stone grabbed the emergency duffel bag on his last sweep of the lab.

Robotnik fell first, dress shoes skidding on the smooth, wet cement of the hangar. Stone just managed to reach out and catch him, but slipped as well and couldn't save himself. His head hit the floor hard, crack echoing loudly in the large building.

Stone's eyes slowly focused on Robotnik's concerned face, watching his expression turn to relief, then anger. "Medic, Birdie, scan him. Agent Stone, can you tell me why there isn't a wet floor sign out for this, the region's newest Great Lake?" He cradled Stone's neck gently in his gloved hand, textured rubber catching his close cropped hair. The doctor looked closely into his eyes and clicked the flashlight button on his glove, pointing a shining finger into Stone's face. "Normal retraction speed, but your pupils are dilated." He turned away to look at the readout panel on Medic's side. 

"Does the new scanner work?" He attempted to sit up to look, and Robotnik's hand slid down to support his back. Stone shivered.

"Perfectly, just like the last ten tests." He patted Medic gently. "You're lucky I'm not dead, idiot." He pulled the badnik over for Stone to read through the chart. The agent was glad to find he wasn't concussed.

They spent a few more minutes recovering on the floor before the doctor felt comfortable getting a move on. "Give me the keys, Stone, you've had my life in your hands enough times this morning."

Thursday, September 25th, 2014 

Commander Walters was irate. "Are you kidding me, Agent? You scheduled Robotnik's nuclear presentation while Xi Jinping and the Pope are in town? Are you trying to cause an international incident?"

Stone cringed at the volume. "It's about alternative energy sources, Sir. I probably I could've made that clearer. He's trying to get funding to reduce the strain the lab is putting on the grid."

Walters' relieved sigh crackled over the car's speakers. "God, don't scare me like that. How is the op going, then?" 

Stone looked across the console to make eye contact with Robotnik before focusing on the road again. The doctor leaned over to whisper, "Yeah, Stone, how's your secret mission going?" His mustache tickled Stone's ear as they drove over a bump, making the agent twitch.

"Fine, Sir, the doctor is in a much better mental space than he was when you first assigned me. He really needed an admin. His mood has improved dramatically, and productivity is way up." He did his best to ignore the pointed looks Robotnik was sending him.

"Yes, I noticed you're keeping him more isolated. Do you think that's wise?"

"Yes? He's extremely introverted. The amount of social labor he was doing wasn't ideal." Stone shot a confused look at the doctor. "Am I missing something, Commander?"

"I really doubt it, Agent, your reports are very thorough. Just let me know if he starts acting up again. I trust you to keep him line." 

"Will do, Sir." Stone ended the call.

"So, the big man has you keeping tabs on me? What's in your reports?"

"Just the weekly newsletter." Stone sounded perplexed. "Commander Walters personally assigned me as your handler, Doctor. I don't know what your previous assistants were focused on, but they clearly weren't helping you. He implied that a more experienced operative would be a better fit."

Robotnik chuckled, as he knew exactly what their focus was on. Spying on his work. Interrupting his flow. Making sure he didn't go full supervillain. "You really can't think of anything else that old war hound would have you do for me? To me?"

Stone was silent for several moments. "No." His voice was firm. "He would have made it clear."

•

Robotnik paced their commandeered conference room like a tiger in a cage. This needed to go perfectly. Preparing for their first presentation was stressful. Robotnik had done them alone before, but wasn't used to "group projects." The two of them rehearsed cues, fine tuned the signs Stone would use, and rearranged powerpoint slides until their eyes were too dry to continue. 

Stone was already Robotnik's longest lasting assistant only three months in. His mind fascinated the doctor. The agent picked up on patterns faster than anyone he'd seen, including himself. He never needed to learn a lesson twice, and, given proper instruction, did not fuck up in the first place.

When he said, "I'll be ready for that next time," after the doctor had thrown a wrench at him, he meant it. He was always ready with a report the doctor needed, safety gear for an experiment, first aid for a cut finger. Every cup of coffee he brought was better than the last. He had done the impossible: he anticipated Dr. Robotnik.

"We should take a break, get something to eat," Stone suggested. Robotnik and his stomach grumbled and agreed.

They made small talk with some of the other conference attendees, the doctor giving a nominal attempt at networking before he had to perform for those nose-picking neanderthals. Stone followed him closely, holding a plate that he was able to persuade the man to eat from when he wasn't using a strangely robotic gesture to articulate a point. Stone had grown deeply fond of the doctor's goofy personality and over-the-top insults. He enjoyed the back and forth he'd started allowing himself to indulge in. Robotnik pried at the sense of humor that he'd packed away in boot camp and made Stone really laugh for the first time in years.

It was when they hit the career politicians that they started getting into trouble. 

"You ever think about wearing less black? You look like an adult goth." The man in front of them wore a striped polo shirt and khakis. Not exactly the tallest horse to pass judgment from.

"No, Senator Legg-horn-fog-horn, I don't care to take fashion advice from people who are so well acquainted with the work of Peter Millar," Robotnik sneered.

"Who?"

Stone translated without thinking, "The doctor thinks you dress like the manager of a failing Publix." Then he clapped his own hand over his mouth in surprise.

"Precisely, Agent Stone." Robotnik looked inordinately pleased with him. He spent the rest of their short lunch trying to break Stone by coming up with increasingly inscrutable insults for the people around them. 

Walters watched Robotnik orbit his agent from across the convention hall. The doctor did look healthier, but with that came more energy to cause chaos. He clearly couldn't see how many people he was pissing off while focused on Stone. His long limbs flitted around the man without touching down, his shoulders curving toward him like a sunflower. The agent seemed receptive to him as well, mirroring his grins and not shying from his personal space. Well, it was a little unconventional, but the commander had always appreciated a good old-fashioned honeypot.

Thursday, October 16th, 2014

Robotnik squinted at Stone’s phone, examining the digital promotional flyer for The Fainting Goat. "Bocktoberfest?" 

"Like goat." More like horny on Stone’s end, but he appreciated both meanings. "They’ve got a special on goatwurst sausages and lager. I figured we could get something to eat, since we’ve got a few hours between meetings in the afternoon." He’d love to get more than a coffee into the doctor today.

"I didn’t take you for someone who gets drunk on his lunch hour, Agent."

"I’m not, but a pint every now and then couldn’t hurt."

"I’ll consider it."

The morning passed quickly, the two of them separating and meeting back up several times before catching each other in the lobby after 13:00. 

It was a quick fifteen minute drive, the doctor in the passenger seat since he didn’t want to deal with city parking. "Glauben Sie, dass die Kellner Deutsch sprechen werden, Stone?"

The agent smiled as they exited the vehicle. "Wahrscheinlich nicht, Doctor. Aber vielleicht hast du Glück."

Robotnik scoffed, "Unlikely. At least we won’t be eavesdropped on while discussing state secrets." 

Stone approached the restaurant first, holding the door open for the doctor, who gave a sarcastic curtsy in return, lifting the pleats of his trench coat. It was a cute place, with an extensive liquor selection behind the green subway-tiled bar. Rough wooden tables sat under Edison bulbs, prompting a skeptical look from Robotnik. "Oh boy, rustic." They ordered their brats and beer, Stone’s stomach rumbling at the delicious smells coming from the kitchen. "So. Why this restaurant, Agent?"

"Oh, well, goats are my favorite animal."

"And your chosen way to show your appreciation is to consume them?"

"I can think something is cute and tasty, Doctor, they’re not mutually exclusive."

"Remind me not to get on your good side." 

They chattered inanely while they waited for their food to come out, Robotnik complaining extensively about their coworkers and Walters’ paternalistic nosiness. Stone was so enraptured by his gestures and performative goofiness that he was startled when their server arrived. She set the plates down with a, "Guten Appetite!" and left them to their lunch. Robotnik looked around sneakily before reaching into his bag and pulling out a jar of kimchi. 

"When did you… I don’t think we’re supposed to bring in outside food."

"I might have rooted through the break room fridge, possibly. Not that anyone can prove it. Maybe you prefer German food on its own, but I happen to be a fan of a little fusion." Stone took a bite of his bockwurst and paused before he continued chewing. "Something wrong, Agent?" 

"No, Doctor, just a different flavor than I’m used to. I prefer Polish dogs."

"What are your usual toppings?"

"Costco special: sauerkraut, onions, ketchup and mustard."

Robotnik took a sip of his beer, getting foam in his mustache. "You don’t relish relish?" 

Stone laughed around his mouthful before covering his mouth to reply. "I prefer my sours fermented. Can’t go wrong with a little aging in my book." He washed the wurst down with a sip of his drink. "What about you, Doctor?"

"I’ll put anything and everything on top of my sausage!" 

Stone choked on his beer and thumped his fist against his chest. "I’ll keep that in mind," he wheezed.

Monday, November 3rd, 2014

They exited the van up at the urban response training grounds. Large concrete structures—mock-apartments—loomed over them in the early-morning fog. Stone was wearing old fatigues and a long-sleeved thermal, and Robotnik was bundled into a warm red sweater and his dramatically billowing wool trench coat. 

The doctor inhaled deeply over his thermos. He did a little skip as they circled to the back of the van to start unloading the badniks. "Can you feel it, Agent Stone? I love Testing Day!" Stone gave a satisfied smile at his antics. The bi-monthly testing days were one of the newer schedule tweaks the agent had implemented, knowing the doctor would appreciate measurable results more if they came with a little wanton destruction.

"I can feel it's thirty-nine degrees out," Stone muttered. He chafed his hands together.

"Yes, unseasonably warm. Historically, this area should be seeing snow by now."

"Small blessings, then. So, what variable are we testing today, Doctor?"

"All of them, my conniving cohort! We're going to run a combat simulation. Or I will, anyway. You, my specialest little agent, are target practice."

"Am I allowed to retaliate?"

"Of course, Stone," he rolled his eyes, "This would hardly be an effective test if you made yourself an easy target." Robotnik pressed a button on his palm and a panel on the side of the new van unfolded to reveal a collection of weapons, plastic bins, and CO2 canisters. "Walters said I'm not permitted to cause you permanent damage 'outside of the line of duty,' so today you'll all be using paintballs. You get twelve hit points, one for each of Daddy's precious predators." Malice seeped into his smile and curled his mustache. He pulled several items from his deep pockets and handed them to Stone. "Earpiece, keep me updated on your level of terror. Eye protection. Smartband to monitor your location and vital signs." Stone's face scrunched up. "Don't give me that look, you didn't think I was only testing the badniks, did you?"

"Honestly? Yes, I did."

The doctor scoffed, "That's why I don't pay you to think."

"You don't pay me at all, I'm a government employee."

"Very funny. Not. Choose your weapons, Agent." Stone watched apprehensively as the drones came online. Robotnik pointed at Stone and a dozen egg-shaped bots turned to regard him. "Target." They emitted a synchronized clik-clik. Stone considered that he hadn't really taken his own health into account when he'd vowed to get the doctor into better shape. "You have a five minute head start, I expect you to use it!" Stone finished loading his paintball gun and ran for cover.

Robotnik looked at his drones and raised a finger in the air as he paced in front of them. "Alright, ladies, I want to see an unfair fight. No headshots! But if he forgets to pull even a toe behind cover I want you to make him regret it. This is a manhunt, a wild goose chase, la chasse à la courre! Leeeet's," he mimed waving a checkered flag. "GO!"

Stone grunted as the first one got him in the back. The cold weather had made the paintballs hard as hell. He rolled through a doorway, ducked around a corner and listened intently for the telltale magnetic hum of the drones. Nothing. Stone crept further into the building looking for a defensible position. He was watching the hallway and had taken a small break to warm his hands again when a feminine voice at his back surprised him.

"Forty. Nine. Ding."

"Christ!" Stone and Numbers exchanged fire, both hitting twice.

"That's three, Agent."

"Respectfully, fuck you."

Robotnik barked a harsh laugh. "Oooh, you're going to regret that."

Stone didn't doubt it. He left the building through the window he'd been ambushed from and took out another bot in the alleyway.

He continued creeping along the spaces between buildings. He was able to sneak up behind another drone scanning for footprints. Stone got two shots off, sending BRD1 into a spin before it dropped to the ground. "That's three, Doctor." Robotnik's voice grumbled lowly in Stone's ear as he made a note about situational awareness. 

A loud whistle issued from the street and a badnik skidded around a corner aggressively. The short chase ended in a courtyard with four drone's going down near simultaneously. Two of them had actually taken each other out, careening into each other in the air at high speed. It was a failure the doctor found near incomprehensible. Stone received three more paintballs in the chest for his trouble.

He moved the fight back inside, not wanting his response time to slow from the biting wind. He moved cautiously up the stairs and kept to the pass-ways. The sound of shattering glass on the first floor confirmed his decision to avoid windows as the right one. He shot down the badnik when it appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

"Don't you think it's a little unfair of you to direct them to my location? I thought they were hunters." He popped the lid on his gun and checked his ammo.

"Careful, Stone, that big mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble one of these days. Besides, I haven't given the badniks any help whatsoever. They're tracing your heat signature." Robotnik grinned at the four red dots still circling the agent's blue one on his map. Stone's dot moved as he retreated up another floor. Three of the drones entered the building on the ground floor, with the fourth scanning for life signs from outside. Two minutes later he heard a flurry of paintballs firing through the badniks' onboard mics and a pained shout through his agent's headset.

Robotnik did a celebratory shimmy at the man's inevitable defeat.

Then Stone crashed through the third story window and tackled the last drone out of the air, paint marker gripped between his perfect teeth. The badnik dipped a hard twelve feet before stabilizing with a loud whine as Stone managed to grip it with one hand, scribbling a sloppy X on the side of its shell with the other. The agent swung and dropped the remaining distance to the ground, rolling to reduce the impact.

Robotnik managed to scrape his jaw off the floor before Stone could catch him gawking, but it was a close call.

Thursday, November 13th, 2014

Stone jolted back from his front door, startled not by BRD1's red gaze, but by the strong gust of wind blowing snow into his home. He reached out and pulled the drone inside, shutting out the frigid pre-dawn. BRD1 dropped a package into his arms, then backed up to scan him. 

The box was bright red, secured only by the same black nylon rope that Robotnik preferred to weave nets out of. Inside were a pair of thick winter boots with generous tread and a beautiful black peacoat. He unfolded it to try it on and discovered the same brilliant red lining that marked the doctor's own coat. He ran his hands over the silk and smiled softly.

Birdie flashed bright white once and played a camera shutter sound effect.

"Quit that!" Stone swiped a hand out to playfully smack the bot. It chirped happily and backed toward the front door. Stone switched out his boots and winter jacket for the new items and added a note to buy red yarn to his reminders.

Heavy bass could be heard through the closed hangar doors when the agent arrived. He bobbed his head to the beat happily as he meandered up to the lab, knowing the doc would be in a good mood.

"Looking sharp, Stone!" Robotnik leveled obnoxiously over-the-top finger guns at his agent before going back to his modified two-step.

"Thank you, Doctor! They fit perfectly!" Stone had to shout to be heard over the music as he collected the man's bags. "Need to present a united front, right?"

"Ita vero, Agent; Washington isn't gonna know what hit it!"

Thursday, December 25th, 2014

Robotnik whistled shrilly. "Medic!" Stone and the badnik appeared around the corner at the same time, Stone running and looking slightly panicked. The doctor pointed across the lab to the small package on his desk. "Scan that."

Stone rested a hand over his heart as his pulse returned to normal. "Oh, Doctor, that's not necessary. It's—" 

"I'd say it is, Agent! A mysterious box appears in my lab without my prior knowledge, it could be anything! A glitter bomb! Anthrax!" Medic sent the scan results to his wrist computer. "Wool! Wool?" Robotnik took a a break from his histrionics to squint at his watch.

"Yes. I got you a Christmas present, as a show of my appreciation of you and your work."

"Flattery won't get you everywhere, Stone." His cheeks must still have been hot from shouting. That's all.

"Please open it, I promise it's not a trick." Stone retrieved the gift for him and handed it over with a warm smile.

Robotnik grumbled as he accepted it, he was a bit of a grinch. The box slid open, no wrapping paper or sappy message in the way, and the doctor pulled out a long ruby-red scarf. He removed a glove with his teeth and ran bare fingers over the neat lines of yarn, enjoying the feeling of tight, consistent crochet stitches. "This an interesting pattern." It was seventeen stitches wide, and gaps in the stitches alternated seemingly randomly every other row, creating a texture that was satisfying to dig his digits into.

"The extra spaces should work like insulation, trap more of your body heat." Stone gently took the scarf from him and reached up to wrap it over the doctor's shoulders. His eyes shimmered as he looked up at Robotnik from under his lashes. Something about his smile seemed secretive. He stepped back and gave the doctor a once over. "I'm glad I got the length right, it looks good on you."

"Did you… make this?" His fingers found their way back into the weave of the soft yarn.

"I did. I like having something to do with my hands when my mind is occupied." 

Ivo found himself at a loss for words. Something about the symbolism silenced him, a favor that could only be produced by human hands delivered to him by the only person he could stand to be around longer than three hours.

"Do you like it?" Stone asked hopefully.

Robotnik nodded slowly, overwhelmed with nameless emotion.

Stone's lips curved in a sweet smile. "Good."

•

The cold, snowy weather combined with a rare Thursday/Friday at home base meant that Robotnik was bored. Stone had let him recover his composure alone, but by noon he had called his agent back into the main lab. Time for some more extra-curricular testing. When he covered Stone in electrodes and put him on the treadmill the agent just thanked him. "It's been difficult getting my morning run in with the snow." 

The doctor had him run an extra three miles as a special treat for not complaining. It was also the day the agent discovered the heated bathroom floor tiles.

Robotnik spent the rest of the day independently testing Stone's intelligence. When he got his IQ test results calculated, he had to do a double take. Then he ran another test. And another. He knew IQ didn't measure absolute intelligence, more about cognitive function and memory than anything else. Still.

301.

No wonder he'd been such an effective spy. 

Friday, January 23rd, 2015

At the seven-month mark, on their second day in D.C., Commander Walters pulled Agent Stone aside for an unscheduled meeting with HR. Stone promised Robotnik that he would return to his side soon, then prepared himself for the gauntlet.

A blonde woman shared her desk with the commander. "Hello, Mr. Stone! I'm Cheryl, and I'm so glad to be able to speak with you today. Do you know why we've asked you here?" She smiled expectantly.

"I can't say I do, Ma'am."

"You're not in trouble, Agent, we just need you to answer our questions honestly." Her smile turned sympathetic. Oh, this wasn't about him. "I received a few reports of inappropriate workplace conduct yesterday. Do you recall the incident that occurred at 12:15?"

"No, Ma'am, nothing sticks out to me." Nothing out of the ordinary, anyway. The doctor had crowded him back against the wall in the water fountain's alcove, reprimanding him for the sub-par latte he'd gotten from Starbucks. He'd loomed close and Stone hadn't been able to take his eyes off the man's lips. The threats concluded as the last of the drink was poured down the drain.

Cheryl frowned gently. "This is a safe place, Aban." He bristled at the overfamiliarity. "Three employees said they saw him push you. One of them was very concerned about the possibility of violence."

Stone shifted to look at Walters. "With all due respect, Sir, you know my record. Do you think there's any situation I couldn't get out of if I needed to?" He turned back to Cheryl. His voice and eyes were cold. "Dr. Robotnik makes a point of eschewing all human contact. He's never put his hands on me outside of an emergency, and that was to help me walk. I am well-acquainted with his eccentricities; this is a non-issue." He stood and smoothed his suit. "Is this meeting over?"

Walters stood as well. "Yes, Agent Stone, you're dismissed. Apologies, Mrs. Johnson, the agent has a very tight schedule to keep…"

The commander caught up to Stone as he exited the building in search of an independent coffee shop. "So, how is it really going, Stone? Smart money's saying you're the knight that slayed the dragon." 

Stone's face screwed up. This was about the betting ring? He hadn't expected the brass to get involved in such frivolous pursuits, but he supposed gossip called to small minds regardless of rank. "Is it considered insider trading if you assign the one that succeeded?"

"That man's been through more assistants than Murphy Brown. You're the only one who's never filed a complaint against him."

"My job for the last ten years has been to tailor myself to whatever the situation requires. I've been stabbed, shot, poisoned, tortured, tasered, chased by dogs, and almost froze to death, and I've come out the other side relatively well-adjusted. Working with Dr. Robotnik is a dream in comparison. He's the smartest man in the world, and I get to help him change it every day." Stone smiled broadly and the commander missed an icy step in his shock.

"You should head back inside, Commander, this is a slippery slope." 

Walters gave Stone a sharp look. "… Right. Where are you going in this weather, Stone?"

"Getting the doctor's latte." Stone popped the lapels on his peacoat against the wind and parted with a wave. "Siri, send Doctor R an apple emoji."

Walters watched his best agent walk away. "That. Is going to be a problem."

•

Robotnik wiggled his fingers enthusiastically as he accepted the thermos from Stone. "You needed to speak with me, Agent?" He leaned in conspiratorially.

"HR was very concerned about the optics of our… conversation yesterday." The doctor quirked an eyebrow. "You corrected my beverage choice? Anyway, someone saw us and got the wrong idea." 

Genuinely confused, "What do you mean?"

Stone took a preparatory breath. "You have a habit of speaking closely, Doctor. I've never minded, but from an outside view… Someone was concerned you may become violent."

Robotnik stepped back from Stone, whose personal space he admittedly had invaded without noticing. "Is my reputation that terrible?" His mustache curled dramatically with his slow smile. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Stone?"

His assistant mirrored his smile. "We play into it, Doctor? You do like to put on a show." Even now, people were giving them a wide berth in the corridors of the Pentagon, out of reach of Robotnik's flailing gesticulations.

"Bingo boingo! These meetings are so boring, a little community theatre could only improve the situation. How familiar are you with The Three Stooges work?"

"I did mention your touch aversion. We could go for something more dramatic?"

"What? You pin yourself to the wall?" A chuckle escaped the doctor.

Stone tilted his head, considering the idea. "Say it again."

The doctor straightened his shoulders and got into character, projecting his voice a bit. "Pin yourself to the wall." He watched from the corner of his eye as several heads turned down the hallway to look at them.

Stone pressed a hand against his clavicle and stepped back hard enough to drive the air from his lungs. Robotnik inhaled sharply at the visual. Down, boy. The fearful look Stone gave him was a little over the top, but otherwise serviceable.

"You're always so quick to follow orders, Agent. If only you could GET THEM RIGHT THE FIRST TIME!" He turned and swept down the hallway, his assistant hurrying behind him. The looky-loos sprung out of their way. "I think that'll do nicely, Stone." 

•

"I made a mistake putting those two together. This is going to become a serious matter of national security." Walters held the door for the woman walking with him.

"I give it six months before they're fucking." Cheryl grinned viciously. "I would kill to have something I could actually punish that man for. Sexually harassing a subordinate would just be icing on the cake." Cheryl pulled a folding chair out and sat, unpacking her brown-bag lunch.

"I'm serious."

"So am I, Commander. In fact: Thomas?" The mailroom lead, who also served as the Robotnik Stooge Bookie, looked up from his sandwich. "Start a new betting table. I've got two-hundred dollars on wedded bliss by October."

"Sure thing. Commander?"

Walters sighed heavily, resigned. "Put fifty bucks on August."

Monday, February 9th, 2015

Stone was not informed about the assassination attempt for two days, and still would not have known if he hadn't asked about the tooth under one of the chairs in the waiting room. Robotnik was blasé about the situation. One of the patrolling badniks had taken out the hit man before he could get past the lobby. Stone responded to the security breach by dramatically expanding the hours he spent at the lab. Often he did not return home until after 20:00, mostly just to sleep and clean up.

It did, however, give him a chance to make Robotnik eat a full evening meal. He popped out around 17:00 every night to get take out. They ate together at an unoccupied lab table and went over project timelines, meetings they'd need to attend, and plans for world domination that were probably jokes.

Thursday night, almost always spent in D.C., saw them out on the town, stopping into a toasty-warm and heavily fragranced Indian restaurant. Friday was sandwiches in the car on the way back to Pennsylvania.

If the doctor was surprised to see Stone on Saturday morning, bundled into a soft hoodie and holding their lattes, he didn't show it. Just thanked him and told him to hand over a socket wrench. It was one of the most relaxed days either of them could remember having in a long time, holding no concerns for the outside world.

Saturday, March 14th, 2015

Stone pushed his dining table in front of the south-facing window. He carefully measured dirt out into old egg cartons, then started opening up various seed packets. He might as well do something useful with this space, since he wasn't spending much time at his home anymore. 

He got the starters assembled quickly, then started scribbling out ideas for hydroponic planter beds for the lab's roof. He wanted to get a good variety of produce going, but he'd need to be careful not to overextend himself. Six beds should do fine. Well. Better make it seven, he could grow snap-peas up the side of the elevator box. Stone had to laugh when he stepped back from the layout he'd drawn; it was arranged just like the tables in the main lab. 

Stone picked up the necessary materials at a local hardware store and then drove to work, prepared to spend the afternoon assembling planters. He managed to rope the badniks with grippy claws into helping him unload everything. He smiled as he sent them directly to the roof, no awkward corners for him today, thanks.

He delivered the doctor's latte and continued to the elevator, toting a large tool bag.

"Agent Stone, what are you up to?" Robotnik's voice called after him. 

"Surprise personal project on the roof, Doctor. Please give me a few hours before you come take a look, I want to be sure my argument is convincing." He smiled winningly as the elevator doors closed.

He hurried more than he would have preferred to, but if the doctor was already curious he had a very short window to work in.

He had four standing beds fully assembled and was working on the fifth by the time Robotnik exited the elevator around lunchtime. His eyebrows shot skyward when he saw the stack of fifty-pound bags of soil and wood outlining the remaining beds. "Explain."

"I want to grow vegetables up here. There's no purpose to this roof otherwise, since the helipad and solar panels are on the hangar." Stone dusted off his hands and smiled at the doctor "You like the veggie plates, right? Can't get much closer to local produce." He pointed out the labels in the beds, "We'll have broccoli and cauliflower, tomatoes, carrots, spinach and swiss chard, cucumbers, snap peas, and kohlrabi. And maybe bell peppers, if I feel like building a greenhouse."

The doctor caught the layout immediately, nodding slowly. "Good thinking, Stone, reducing reliance on the grid." He kicked a steel leg lightly. They were extremely sturdy, with short posts and locking wheels, wood sides two inches thick. "These look well-made. Project gets my official rubber-stamp." 

"Thank you, Doctor." 

Tuesday, April 7th, 2015

BRD1 sent an alert to the doctor's watch. It had completed its sweep of Stone's property and discovered strange footprints in the tree cover around the house. He had a few minutes before his agent left for work. Robotnik directed it to widen the search radius, looking for other life signs. There. A quarter mile away, warm vapor in the air, expressed at regular intervals. Breathing.

Stone picked up immediately when Robotnik called. 

"Your house is being watched. I haven't yet found out by who, but it's only a matter of time. Go to your car, bring Birdie. Don't arouse suspicion. Come directly to the lab." 

Stone was in motion before Robotnik hung up, checking his concealed carry and knives. He left quickly, tucking BRD1 into the passenger seat. Stone drove exactly six miles over the speed limit. There should be no reason for him to be targeted, which meant it was really the doctor who was in danger. 

Robotnik was, aggravatingly, still at this desk when Stone made it into the lab.

"Doctor, you should be in the panic room in case there's an incursion."

"Nonsense, we're perfectly safe. Here, put this on." He passed Stone what appeared to be a smart watch. Stone complied immediately. The band tightened automatically to a snug fit.

"What is it?"

"What does it look like, idiot?" Stone gave the watch a closer look and tapped the screen. It pulled up his vitals in more detail than expected. Heart rate, blood sugar, hormone levels, and so on. "It's similar in function to the smart band, but far more advanced. It's replacing several of your daily-carry items as well, since I'm pulling the lab off of the Federalés' imbecilic key card system. It does mean you'll be tracked at all times, though." The agent nodded. He said that like Stone hadn't been under close observation for most of the last year. 

"Why now?"

Robotnik handed him a new earpiece as well. "I want to see you in action, Agent. A real emergency scenario provides a unique set of circumstances and stressors. How do you really do under duress?" Stone exhaled slowly and carefully, unwilling to compromise his professional facade with an exasperated sigh. Robotnik smirked, watching Stone's blood pressure rise on his own screen. "I'm curious, Stone, how confident are you in your ability to handle this?"

"If you move to the panic room? One-hundred percent." Stone looked at the security footage and pulled out his pistol, checking the ammo again. Robotnik clicked the override on his glove and unlocked every door in the building. Stone then escorted him to the third floor and insisted he secure at least that one.

Stone crept along in the dim red of the emergency lights. He knew the lab better than his own house by this point. He caught security cameras turning to follow him, and silently wondered where the girls had gotten to. "Any idea how many there are?" He whispered, hoping the earpiece was my sensitive enough to transmit his words to the doctor. 

BRD1, lights deactivated and hidden under the SUV, had a perfect view as the mercenaries entered the building. "I have eyes on four, so far. I almost feel flattered, the sender must really mean it this time," Robotnik simpered sarcastically.

The mercenaries jumped when the door locked behind them. Robotnik pressed a button and his voice echoed menacingly through the intercom system. "I'm sorry your employer didn't give you the full download on the job, boys. If you tell me who hired you I can make your death quick and relatively painless." One of them shot out the security camera. "Rude. Let's play a game. One v. four doesn't seem like bad odds." He released the intercom button to speak to his agent. "Stone? Sic'em." This was going to be fun.

The team split up, quickly and stupidly. 

The doctor observed the first death on the hangar's feed. Stone dropped on the man from the balcony off the second floor's lab, slamming his head into the ground so hard as to render him immediately unconscious. Probably worse. His agent then snapped the intruder's neck, just to be sure.

When he slipped into the maze of hallways and storage rooms it became difficult to follow him on camera. Robotnik had to track the watch to figure out where he was. He stuck to the shadows, blending easily with his monochromatic ensemble. "Remind me to upgrade the cameras, Stone. I'm sure we have some spares from the badniks' last upgrade lying around somewhere."

Movement flickered in one of the feeds, the agent waving and looking straight down the lens. He pulled a component off the shelf behind him and held it up. "Right here, Doc," he whispered.

"Careful, there's another cretin waiting for you in the next room."

Stone entered the room at a low crouch. The flashlight on the end of the hitman's gun swept overhead, casting wild shadows through the crowded shelving and missing Stone by inches. The soft rubber of the agent's non-slip boots didn't make a sound as he snuck around to get behind the merc. He positioned himself carefully, then, "Boo." The man whipped around quickly, but not fast enough to avoid Stone's fist to his throat. Stone's other hand went for the intruder's shotgun, disarming him and pointing it up into his face, blinding him.

"Who sent you?"

"Fuck. You." The man managed to wheeze through his crushed windpipe.

"Pity." Stone squeezed the trigger and Robotnik watched brain matter and chunks of skull spatter over the ceiling.

"Ooh, that's going to be a pain to clean up."

"That's why I aimed for the ceiling instead of the shelves, Doctor." Stone tossed the shotgun on top of the body and melted back into the shadows as the dead man's radio crackled.

"Dobson? Come in Dobson? What was that?" Silence. "Craig?" They didn't even have code-names. Good god. "Shit."

"John, do you copy?"

"Yeah man, I'm checking out the second floor. What happened?"

"Two down, two to go, gentlemen. The offer of a swift demise still stands. Well, it does seem inevitable at this point, actually. I didn't expect my new toy to be quite so efficient."

Stone rolled his eyes while he was still out of sight. He hadn't even broken a sweat. This had turned out to be more of a skill demo than a serious threat.

"Alright, Stone, next one's headed for the elevator, first floor." His agent took the shortcut to the hangar and hung left, looping around to wait for the unlucky soldier's approach. Robotnik smirked as he watched Stone pull a knife from his boot. These idiots didn't have a ghost of a chance against G.U.N.'s best and brightest.

The radio sputtered again as the man approached. "You gonna come help me or what?"

"Yeah, dude, let me find the elevator."

"Just take the stairs, jesus."

"It's a fucking maze in here man, cool your jets."

Stone waited until the merc had pressed the button for the elevator to stab him in the back. He bounced the man's head against the shiny metal doors twice before they opened. He pulled the knife back out, getting splattered in the process, and messily slit the mercenary's throat before dumping his stupid ass on the floor.

"Y'know something, Agent? I've always appreciated the sight of you with another man's blood on your face."

Stone laughed, cheeks warming, then covered his mouth. He listened carefully for the last genetic dead-end who thought they could threaten his doctor and get away with it.

"The last one's stinking up my lab. In or out, we haven't got all day." 

Stone stepped into the elevator and put his back against the buttons. "Can you cut the lights?" The interior flickered to black and Stone stilled, becoming indistinguishable from the dark.

The elevator doors gave an uncharacteristic ding as they slid open. Hesitant footsteps approached the elevator, speeding up as the last hit man saw the body. These imbeciles don't have the good sense of a horror movie's first victim.

"Fuck, Dave?" The man stepped into the elevator, focused on his dead friend. He bent to check the body and Stone kicked him hard into the wall. Robotnik activated the elevator and then ran to get in position.

Stone and the hitman tussled briefly, but the agent clearly had the upper hand. The man swung and Stone parried it, getting control of his wrist and twisting the arm behind the man's back.

The doors slid open just as Stone shoved the merc's face against them, both of them falling into Robotnik's third floor living quarters. The agent quickly immobilized him and dug a knee into his kidneys. He looked up to see Robotnik relaxed in a wingback armchair, long legs crossed and fingers steepled. The badniks spread out behind him like the tail of a peacock, and arousal pooled in Stone's core.

"Excellent job, Agent Stone." Robotnik practically purred with satisfaction. "John, was it? This is your last chance for mercy. I just need one. Little. Name."

"Bite me. I'm dead either way, right?"

The doctor sneered. "I can't stand a murderer with integrity. Though I suppose I should've expected it with how inexperienced your little posse was." He leaned in as if imparting great and secret knowledge. "You don't get very far with a code of ethics."

The man cried out as Stone twisted his arm harder. 

"You, your friends, and the person who hired you are so far beneath me you may as well be in the Australian outback."

"Technically our antipode is about sixty-five miles off the coast of Augusta, Sir—Doctor."

"Get that one from your word-a-day calendar, Agent?" Robotnik made deeply unimpressed eye contact with Stone before continuing. "You have ten seconds to give me a name before I have my guard dog here spill your guts for you."

Stone spent two hours washing dried blood out of the doctor's sheepskin rug the next day. Note to self: don't correct the doctor in front of company.

Saturday, April 25th, 2015

Stone had ended up building a plastic covered greenhouse on the east side of the elevator box for the cucumbers, tomatoes, and peppers. It turned out to be a good spot to leave his gardening equipment as well, instead of lugging them between his house and home. 

By the time he got around to planting the starters—a full week late due to reworking the security protocalls for the nth time—they had completely taken over his dining room. He got everything packed into the SUV with minimal mess, though a tomato plant did try to make a jump for it. 

When he parked in the hangar he had to shoo away the eagerly helpful badniks. He grabbed an empty wheeled shelving unit to carefully transfer the plants from the car to the roof. 

Robotnik wandered up with a cigarette in hand about 10:00, and stopped in his tracks when he caught sight of his assistant.

Stone had on jeans and an old band tee, dirt smeared up his forearms, a little on his nose. His hands were gentle with the plants, efficiently tucking roots into virgin soil. His brown skin glowed under the warm spring sunlight, and that damnable heat was back in Robotnik's gut.

"Did you need something, Doctor?" He asked without looking up, still focused on his hobby.

Ivo composed himself, packing away his physical reaction for later contemplation. "Just a smoke, Agent."

Stone looked up at that, frowning. "I thought you were quitting?"

"Not cold turkey!" He lit up defiantly, took too harsh a drag, and started coughing. It was Stone's turn to look unimpressed. Robotnik wheezed out a question, "So how's the whole plant project going?"

"Good. I got most of the hardier ones in their boxes already. It's just these—" he held out a tray of sprouts that could've been anything for all the doctor knew about plants, "—And the greenhouse left."

He finished planting the last ones while Robotnik puffed away. Stone wiped his hands on already-dirty denim, then snatched the half a lit cigarette from him and popped it in his own mouth. 

"Just what do you think you're doing, Stone?"

He looked slyly up at the doctor through his lashes. "Harm reduction." He exhaled slowly, savored the smoke pouring over his lips and weekend-messy beard. He looked exceptionally handsome.

Oh. 

He was attracted to his agent. Had been for a long while, if the now-recognizable feeling meant anything.

Stone finished the cigarette, ground it under his boot-heel, and asked, "You wanna help me with the greenhouse?"

The doctor's nose scrunched. He'd have to take off his control gloves, he didn't want the sensitive components compromised by dirt. He hadn't quite gotten around to weather-proofing them. He sighed. "You'll have to be patient with me, Stone, it's my first time. Gardening. My first time gardening." The heat moved up, bringing a flush to his cheeks.

Stone rewarded his acquiescence with a broad smile. Robotnik could just tell this was going to be bad for productivity. He removed his lab coat and gloves, rolled up his sleeves and followed his agent into the surprisingly spacious hothouse. 

The doctor was given patient instruction as Stone demonstrated the proper way to train the plants around their supports. Robotnik in turn gave an impromptu lecture about Gregor Mendel that managed to transition into ramblings about carcinization.

They wrapped up in time for lunch, and Robotnik left the roof with dirt under his nails and something new growing in his heart. 

Monday, May 4th, 2015

The doctor stepped out onto the second floor balcony, finally finished boxing up the main lab. He was struck by a wave of noise and cringed slightly. Thank god he had Stone to deal with the interpersonal nightmare of construction.

Robotnik watched closely as the agent directed movers and deliveries with skill and grace. His serious demeanor brooked no argument, and with the doctor in coveralls and work-boots he suspected he had to listen to Stone's instructions as well. Robotnik was a little undercover today himself, needing a close look at the components of the small nuclear reactor so he could ensure its proper installation. 

The reactor was of his own design, one of numerous personal projects he'd completed work on in the last year. The expansion of the lab was desperately needed at this point, both floors of the repurposed hangar stuffed to the gills with robots in all states of completion, vehicle prototypes for the military, and pieces of inventions he planned to somehow convince the cheapskates in D.C. to fund. 

Logistics were Stone's bread and butter. The agent directed another semi into position via walkie-talkie, then conferred with the welders who would be expanding the lab. He was keeping a close eye on the doctor's schematics, making sure components large and small were sent where they needed to be. Robotnik had the girls running patrols to ensure no tech went "missing." 

He was about to join the fray when Stone placed a hand on his arm. "Here, Doctor." Stone pulled a bag from under his temporary foreman's desk and passed him heavy duty earmuffs, a hard hat, and one of his own earpieces. "Safety first. Oh! And this," he held out a bright orange vest with "LEAD ENGINEER" stenciled cleanly on the back. "Can't have people forgetting who's in charge around here."

His easy smile tugged at Robotnik's questionable self-control. Nobody else looked at him that way, always happy to see him, ready to tackle whatever the doctor threw at him—sometimes literally. The agent's singularity distracted him constantly now that he'd processed it.

Not to say that this was reducing his efficiency, he'd done the calculations. Stone had only ever improved the doctor's productivity from the moment he stepped foot in the lab. He had seen to orchestrating Robotnik's schedule with an alarming ease, and the hours saved from not having to respond to emails or write reports left him more free time than he'd had in decades. He felt better, too. His dance breaks had become a daily occurrence, a way to work out the energy he still had in excess despite pacing miles through the lab all day.

Robotnik couldn't help but linger. "How's it looking, Stone?" He pulled on the vest and gestured at the masses teeming in the hangar below them.

"Good, Doctor. Some of the workers are concerned about the quick turnaround, but once the outer walls are up we can get the crane framework in place. Everything gets a lot simpler once the inventory is out of the way. Walters approved the security request, so the storage area will have round-the-clock protection while they tear down the hangar."

"Naturally. What's the current time estimate on that?"

"Tomorrow afternoon at the latest. We should be able to start moving everything back in by the end of the month." 

Sunday, May 31st, 2015

The clean chrome lines of the new warehouse connected seamlessly to the lab. Strong beams spanned from floor to ceiling and supported an extended balcony around the perimeter, wide enough to park four shipping containers. The second floor's main lab had lost its interior walls, extending the doctor's view to the far borders of the truly massive structure.

Stone directed a handful of nonessential crates and construction materials to be placed in the middle of the warehouse, then made an announcement over the new speaker system. "Everyone please exit the lab. Crane testing to commence in ten minutes."

Robotnik took control of the joysticks and ran through a series of test functions. They moved smoothly and didn't knock into each other, failsafes included to limit their range. The joysticks directed them up and down the tracks in the ceiling that curved around the warehouse's S-shaped floor plan.

"This is where I outdo myself, Agent." He transferred command to his gloves and curled his fingers. The grasping claws of the crane twitched and closed. "Ah hah!" The doctor's hands raised high, and the arms lifted nearly to the roof. He reached forward, and the claws maneuvered smoothly over the railings of the loft, able to reach the walls of the exposed second floor.

He turned excitedly to Stone, arms spread in presentation, and the agent froze as the extended claw sped towards them, but angled to pass over their heads. The breath left him in a relieved rush. "That's incredible. How did it…"

"Avoid us?" He nodded. "The watches let the lab know where we are. I've programmed in a generous minimum safe distance to avoid any unfortunate accidents. I still haven't quite decided how I want to maneuver them along the tracks, though. If it follows the gloves that's a lot of running around, but building a platform comes with blind spots…" He began to go through the possibilities with Stone, rambling just a little. "But until I've decided, I'm going to need your assistance with directing them. You've done a satisfactory job with everything else so far."

"Thank you, Doctor. I'm more than happy to help."

Stone kept his eyes on the doctor's elbows and broad shoulders, maneuvered the rig up and down the warehouse with the shift of his hips. It was gratifying to be allowed to help him in this early stage, trusted enough to have his back.

Robotnik carefully tested the controls. A full hand used enough force to crush a large steel pipe, a pinching gesture with thumb and pointer figure able to grasp a wooden crate gently. He twisted his wrist, and the claws of the corresponding crane rotated, spinning a plastic drum on the floor.

When testing was concluded they handed out tracking bands to the remaining movers and started to organize the return of the doctor's projects to the safety of the lab. The new crane made quick work of storing vehicles, shipping containers, and crates of materials. By the end of the day Stone felt like he could follow Robotnik's movements in his sleep, something they were both going to need soon. 

Dismissing the military security that night filled Stone with a sense of long-awaited peace. Finally it would be just the two of them again. 

His earpiece muffled his hearing right before Robotnik's voice came through. "Meet me in the garden, Stone."

"Yes, Doctor."

Robotnik had dragged the folding table and chairs Stone had insisted on getting for the break room up to the roof, popped open a bottle of cheap champagne and poured two glasses. Stone exited the elevator to see the doctor accept a bag of takeout from Birdie's claws.

"You ordered dinner?"

"It's a special occasion, Stone."

The agent pulled out a chair and sat down for what felt like the first time all day. "I'm so relieved to see the lab finished. It's wonderful."

"I'm relieved to have my damn privacy back. I only need one spy around here, Agent, and I'm already looking at him." Robotnik started to distribute the boxes of Chinese food. "Regardless, that's not what I was referring to." He picked up his glass and gestured for his agent to toast him. "Happy birthday. May your slowly-aging body not betray you in the coming year."

Stone's smile was tired but sincere, a soft look in his eyes. "Thank you, Doctor. I don't know how slow it really feels, though." He groaned as he rolled his ankles.

"Zip it, I'm twenty years your senior, how do you think I feel?" 

Stone chuckled and tapped their glasses together. "To aging gracefully, then. You make it look so easy, after all."

"Sycophant."

Aban just laughed.

Chapter Text

Monday, June 14th, 2015

One week after they finished setting the lab back up, Stone submitted his proposal to remodel the break room. He could complete the work himself, he just needed budget approval and permission to use the power tools. 

Robotnik surprised him with the suggestion that they complete the remodel together. "Four hands will go faster than two, and I need to make sure you don't take down any support walls." He was also not so sure about the color scheme.

They spent most of the first day tearing out the old carpet. It would have gone much more quickly if it had been one piece, but the panels, so convenient when minor damage occurred, had to be removed individually. They started on opposite sides of the room, meeting in the middle as the sunlight went the gold of early evening.

Robotnik groaned heavily as he straightened from his crouch. "The human spine is a travesty. That's the first thing I'm changing." He stretched and popped his neck, then glanced out the window. He didn't usually spend so much time up here. 

Stone brought him the bottle of ibuprofen from the medlab.

"Is the view this nice year-round?"

Stone followed his gaze to the green canopy that surrounded the lab, leaves shifting like rippling waves in the breeze. "Yeah. The sunrise is usually visible in the mornings, too. Once there's a stove we can start eating breakfast up here, if you like." He was teasing, but still hopeful the doctor would take him up on it.

"Very funny, Agent." Robotnik lingered at the window while Stone made coffee, eyes on the wide blue horizon.

••

Something was off with Stone. "Did you hurt yourself?"

"No." He was using the screwdriver wrong-handed.

"You're not a southpaw."

"No, I'm not."

Robotnik observed the slight wobble in Stone's wrist. "Or ambidextrous."

"Nope." Robotnik squinted suspiciously at him. They were both silent for a few minutes while they assembled the face frames of the counters. He almost let it go.

"So why—"

"Doctor. Every pair of scissors in this building is left-handed."

His mustache twitched indignantly. "So? Shouldn't my lab cater to my needs?"

"I'm not complaining, I'm learning." There was a wealth of patience in his tone.

"Well learn more quickly, this is taking forever." Robotnik kept quiet for a whole twenty minutes after that, not eager to draw Stone's attention to where his own screwdriver had switched hands.

••

Stone's biceps flexed in his tantalizingly tight tee as he lifted and slid the large slab of wood onto the center island's frame. Robotnik ogled his agent with the pretense of spotting him, an action that would have been completely redundant due to the impressive strength on display.

"Alright, what's next? Upper cabinets, pan rack…" Stone clapped his hands together and took a turn, searching around the space. "And the tile, of course. We're getting close to the finish line." He smiled at the doctor, prompting him to turn his thinking brain back on. 

"Yes, the powder coat should be done right… About…" Robotnik's watch beeped. "Now. I'll be right back." The doctor retreated to the shelter of his cold, indifferent lab. The brief break from exposure to his assistant's assets was sorely necessary. The agent always seemed more touchable out of his suit, softer. It was an unexpected temptation. Dangerous, even.

He could deal with this. I'm a professional. Somehow he even managed to have the thought without laughing. He carefully wrapped the freshly painted cabinet doors in a quilted navy blue moving blanket, loaded them onto a cart, and headed back upstairs. 

Stone had taken the opportunity to flop onto the couch and relax, shirt riding up just enough to reveal his treasure trail. Robotnik quickly reached down and slapped his stomach, causing the agent to yelp. 

"Left yourself open!"

••

Stone crossed his arms and leaned against the back of the couch to take in the finished break room. The doctor had insisted on picking the sectional out himself, black leather with deep cushions that supported his tall frame. It curved in a long half circle around the four screens they'd tiled into the left wall. The plush rug and kidney-bean-shaped coffee table filled the space in the center of the seating area.

The kitchen itself took up a third of the break room, now, with wide hardwood countertops and chrome appliances. The steel double-basin sink faced the window, like all good kitchen sinks should. The bamboo floors contrasted with the black cabinets and brought an organic feel to the space that was at odds with the rest of the lab.

The center of the room was taken up by a long epoxy and walnut slab table with eight sturdy chairs. Robotnik found it patently ridiculous, ostentatious and unnecessary, but had reluctantly conceded to Stone's interior design principles.

"Happy now, Agent? Just how many dinner guests do you expect I'm going to have?"

"It needed to be big enough for the space. Otherwise the fengshui would be off." An easy excuse, cover for Stone's embarrassingly domestic fantasies.

Robotnik scoffed. "Well we're missing another element as well, if you're so concerned about the fengshui." He rolled his eyes and Stone lit up.

"You'd let me grow plants in the lab?"

The doctor crushed his dream mercilessly. "No, absolutely not. You can have one office plant in the staff break room, that's it."

"No other stipulations?"

"Surprise me," he sneered.

••

Robotnik was ambushed by the ten-foot-tall bird-of-paradise when he attempted to exit the elevator, getting smacked in the face with a frond as the doors opened. He spluttered and maneuvered around it, drawing Stone's attention where he stood at the butcher block preparing lunch.

"How do you like it, Doctor?" Butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

Robotnik gathered the large leaves before they could get caught in the closing doors. "This is absurd! Who the hell grew this monstrous megaflora?" The Philadelphia Zoo, or its groundskeeper, technically. Interesting what a "charitable donation" could convince people to part with. "How'd you get it in here without a hand truck?"

"I lifted with my knees."

Robotnik grumbled as he carefully moved the plant—and its large, textured pot—against the wall between the bathroom and medlab. He stepped back to the elevator to observe the room's flow. The leaves of the plant led his gaze to the dark green subway tiles on the kitchen wall, which continued into the view of the forest outside.

"I hate when you're right, Stone. It's perfect. Fengshui is still bullshit, though."

"I know, Doctor."

Wednesday, July 8th, 2015

"Excuse me."

Robotnik slid a component further up the worktable, making room for his 11:00 coffee. When several seconds passed without the clink of ceramic against metal, he twisted his head around to grimace expectantly at Stone.

"Yes, Agent?"

"May I borrow a few tools? I need to fix the coffeemaker."

Robotnik waved his hand dismissively, "Just buy a new one, the feds are paying for facilities maintenance anyway."

"They rejected the work order. Something about already being grossly over-budget." Stone shifted nervously. That's what they got for making unionized construction workers come in on weekends.

Robotnik sucked air through his teeth, contemplating the pros and cons of giving his lackey unsupervised access to his tools. His seventeenth assigned handler's fiddling had not gone well for anyone involved, but so far Agent Stone had been refreshingly competent. He probably wouldn't lose a hand. Or an eye.

"Hop to it, Stone. I want my coffee by noon. Walters is giving me a headache."

"Yes, Doctor."

Stone was in and out of the storage rooms multiple times in the following hour, evidently retrieving different tools and parts. Robotnik found him in the kitchen, coffee machine still in pieces on the butcher block. "What's the hold-up, Agent?"

"I'm sorry this is taking so long, I had to descale the reservoir and replace the fuse and the plug. I think we need to check the voltage on the outlet." He was bent over the opened-up base of the machine, poking the thermostat with a circuit tester. "Would you like a pour-over instead?"

The doctor assented and Stone retrieved a funnel and clamp stand from the medical lab. He set water to boil while he washed them thoroughly. He never knew what the mad scientist could've been using the chemistry equipment for; it was better to be safe than sorry. He folded a coffee filter and lined the funnel before he tapped in exactly sixty-seven grams of grounds by sight. He slid the coffeemaker's carafe under the improvised setup and slowly poured a liter of hot water over the top. The fresh grounds bloomed beautifully. 

Stone pulled organic vanilla soy milk from the fridge and splashed an inch in the doctor's cup before serving them both. "There you go." He watched Robotnik's face carefully as he took his first sip, pursing his lips sympathetically.

The doctor hummed contentedly, shoulders relaxing incrementally. "You may utilize the machine lab or garage next time you need to repair something. Might be easier than running up and down three flights of stairs every time you forget a component."

"Oh, thank you, Doctor." Stone was pleasantly surprised. He couldn't imagine it was an honor many of the man's previous employees had received.

Sunday, July 19th, 2015

When the coffeemaker blew its fuse again less than two weeks later, Stone decided to bring his mid-range espresso machine from the house, as well as his toaster, stand-mixer, pressure-cooker, and all but one of his spatulas and chef's knives. Might as well get comfortable.

The novelty of the fresh space had the doctor consistently leaving his desk and coming upstairs for their evening meal. Stone delighted in experimenting with different cuisine, and enjoyed the doctor's attention even more.

Robotnik watched Stone move around the kitchen with the same easy familiarity that he navigated the lab's storage rooms. Sizzling and the scent of ginger, garlic, and chicken filled the room. The agent stood at the induction stove and flipped produce from their garden in a large wok, swaying lightly to the music the doctor had picked out. The playlist had received more playtime in the last five months than in the five years preceding Stone's arrival, making "Dinner for One" feel like a less-than-apt name.

The rice cooker sang its cheery tune, and Robotnik got off his barstool to get dishes from the cabinets. He popped the lid and a toasted sesame scented wave of steam billowed into his face and curled his mustache. "You never miss, Stone. This smells indescribably delicious." 

He slid two bowls of rice down the counter and Stone smiled as he ladled scoops of stir-fry over them. "Thank you, Doctor." 

Finally quitting smoking had improved Robotnik's palate and appetite. Hunger filled him with anticipation now, rather than annoyance or the sharp dread of his childhood. The first bite he took had him rocking on his seat cushion, happy as could be. "Your turn, Agent."

"Alright." Stone chewed while he thought. "What's a pet you always wanted to have?"

"I suppose a hairless cat could be interesting." Robotnik didn't sound enthusiastic.

"Like Dr. Evil?"

"Too on-the-nose?"

"Nah. I could make little sweaters for it."

"What about you, Stone, cat or dog person?"

His agent smiled fondly at him. "I don't need a pet, I already have you to take care of."

Monday, August 10th, 2015

"Tina is retiring at the end of the month, I want you to train with her so I don't have to get a new custodian used to the lab. Think you can handle that, handler?"

"Of course, Doctor." 

Hopefully he'd be able to get a few hours of sleep crammed in between his regular shift and the custodian's overnight one. Stone had embraced that there were no such thing as "normal working hours" or "holidays" with Dr. Robotnik, content to be a steady presence at the man's side. 

Finally, he would meet the elusive Ms. Roberts, one of three people Stone had ever heard Robotnik describe as "reasonably intelligent." The only other person with full access to the Eggpire.

Stone and Robotic Operations Guide 1 rode the elevator to the roof at 23:48.

He was met by a smoking older woman with greying hair, medium brown skin, and wiry muscle. She wore sturdy work boots, carhartts, and a tee with the sleeves cut off. Her voice had a pleasant and musical roughness, like a lounge singer past her prime. "Hey, Roger." She stood from her seat on one of the low planter boxes and turned to greet Stone. "You Forty-Nine?" 

"Ding," played from ROG1's speaker. He knew they had a sense of humor.

He reached out to shake the woman's hand. "Aban Stone."

"Saatine Roberts. Call me Tina." Her grasp was firm, palm work-calloused. "I'll be honest with you kid, this is the easiest gig I ever had. 'Botnik automated most of my job back in 2009." She took another drag of her cig. "At this point mosta' what I do is unclog the roombas and switch out a few worn parts. Nothin' to it."

"How long have you been working for the doctor?"

"Probably 'bout… Eight years? We got started talking when he was still just in a windowless office in Arlington, couldn't keep track of time for anything. The cleaning crew coming in was his only clue the workday'd ended." She huffed a laugh and stubbed out her cigarette. "He asked me to follow him out here, never gave me a reason to regret it, 'sides the sheer square footage."

They moved from the roof to the machine lab where she walked him through maintaining and repairing each of the purpose-built cleaning drones, pointing out what Stone had assumed were accidental scratches in their casings. She pressed her thumb firmly into one that looked vaguely like a pair of crossed swords. The mark lit up, and the kanji 父 revealed itself.

"That turns off the boobytrap." Tina side-eyed him when he smiled. 

"That's remarkable." And very telling.

"Alright, so, I know this sounds weird, but this is the rule I go by: round edges cut, square edges crush." She held out her left hand, which was short a pinky. "Ask me how I figured that one out."

She handed Stone a screwdriver and had him start disassembling the simplest one. He laid the pieces out in order of extraction to better remember how they'd need to go back together. 

Ms. Roberts knew a concerning amount of information about the badniks function, knowledge that would surely pay handsomely if she were at all inclined to sell. But it didn't seem to occur to her to do so. She was content to do her job and take her smoke breaks and eat the leftovers in the staffroom fridge. 

She continued speaking as he worked. "You realize you stole my smoking buddy? I hardly see him anymore. You got him on some kinda health kick, sleeping at night, eating real food."

"I'm sorry." He wasn't really, but it seemed polite to say.

"Don't be. I'm glad he's putting some weight back on. There's something wrong when the dog don't eat, y'know?" She pointed to a star-shaped screw hidden in the corner of the bot's battery cavity. "He always throws one torx in there, just to fuck with people."

Saturday, September 12th, 2015

Stone set down a small cup of espresso and a fresh lemon bar at Robotnik's elbow. "Hey." 

"Ah!" The doctor startled hard and pointed his gloved pinky and pointer finger at him, activating the taser. "You've gotten sneakier," he accused. 

Stone eyed his hand and strategically did not point out that the doctor no longer considered his presence enough of a threat to keep track of. "Is it alright if I borrow a couple of the badniks to help move my bike? I'd like to fix it before the rain hits."

"If they'll actually listen to you, you're more than welcome to them. Let me know how that goes." He blew across his fingers to deactivate the arc of electricity flashing between them. 

"Yes, Doctor."

Robotnik smirked when his watch vibrated with Stone's message only fifteen minutes later. Heading back now. His poor agent must have given up easily, likely realizing the drones would only obey their creator.

When Stone opened up the bay door and pulled the SUV into the warehouse, the doctor sashayed over to lean on the balcony railing and heckle him. "Pretty quick turnaround, Agent. Did asking nicely not work out?" Stone just smiled and popped the rear door. Saati and Roger floated out of the hatchback with several hundred pounds of combustion-powered conveyance clutched in their magnetic grasps. 

Traitors.

"It worked just fine, Doctor, thank you." He couldn't keep the smug look off his face.

Robotnik glared down at all three of them.

Stone spent the next few hours in the garage cleaning parts and working on his motorcycle. He reveled in the intimacy of knowing his tools and toys, tweaking the motor until it hummed just right. That was how he thought about what he did for the doctor. Kept him fed and fueled, perfected his maintenance schedule, kept the brass updated, managed his mood. Robotnik was an infernal engine he was calibrating to ensure it ran smoothly.

Being around the doctor felt like the slow, ratcheting climb of a roller coaster. There was a building tension between them that he didn't want to rush. Stone was used to being patient, stalking his prey. This was different. The other man required a deliberate, gentle touch. Constant adjustments as his wetware updated.

He could feel the doctor's eyes on him occasionally, peeking curiously over the balcony of the lab. Robotnik wasn't the only one who liked to put on a show. Stone let out a yawn and stretched his arms over his head, twisting from side to side. He bent at the waist to place his hands flat on the floor, popping his vertebra, then slowly straightened back up with a rough groan. 

He jumped when a wrench pinged off the railing, ricocheting and spinning across the warehouse floor, nearly covering the sound of Robotnik's quickly retreating footsteps.

Saturday, October 3rd, 2015

Stone found Robotnik in the medlab when he "clocked in," humming and giggling to himself every so often. Robotnik's good mood easily rubbed off on Stone, something he wished he could say about the man himself. "Good morning, Doctor."

"Great morning, Stone.  I'll take my latte in here."

The agent steamed whole milk with cinnamon and pumpkin pie spice, stirring honey into it as he waited for the shots. "Can I interest you in breakfast?"

"You can make me do whatever you want after you help me with this experiment!"

If only. "I heard 'Yes, Stone, I'd love some huevos rancheros.' Is that correct?" The agent poured two twelve ounce lattes with two shots each, taking a large sip of his own to make sure the flavor was perfect. He entered the medlab with mugs in-hand and a smile, as happy to see Robotnik now as he had been the very first time. 

"Flu vaccine or truth serum?" 

Stone paused before handing the doctor his latte. "... For?"

"Testing, genius. They won't interact well so you get one today, one next Monday." Robotnik was staring down his agent like his answer would tip some internal scale. 

Stone only had one secret he was actively keeping from the doctor, and it was unlikely to come up in polite interrogation. "Truth serum, might as well get it over with now."

"Good, because you don't have a choice. That is an example of the kind of deceit one can still pull off under the effect of such a serum."

"Doctor? Did you consume an experimental chemical compound without warning me?" The man had made Stone his emergency contact, for fucksake. He could at least give him a heads up.

Robotnik sipped his coffee and leaned in to menace his assistant. "Obviously." He picked a vial up from the lab table and poured it directly into Stone's coffee cup. "And you, my sweet, servile secret agent, are coming on this journey with me."

Stone took a long moment to look at his coffee, then shrugged and took a sip. He had already agreed. 

"You have approximately two minutes to continue lying to me, on purpose, so we can have a solid baseline. What color are your shoes?"

"Brown. What's your favorite sport?"

"Drone racing, the ones where they use abandoned buildings as the obstacle course. Any circus-worthy skills?"

"I can juggle knives? Shit, I can juggle knives. Uh, I can unicycle. Favorite Golden Girl?"

"Dorothy, of course. What is the most elegant formula in mathematics?"

"The general solution for the quintic equation." Robotnik grimaced at that. "When was the last time you took a vacation?"

"Fifteen years ago, I witnessed the ball drop in New York at the turn of the millennium. What color is your hair?" 

"Chartreuse. You've really been working that long without a break?"

Robotnik scowled at him. "I had to, Stone, rare earth metals don't come cheap. And you aren't exactly a healthy example of work/life balance, are you?"

"I'm a perfectly balanced individual with a normal amount of gumption. What's your favorite food?" 

"Eggs. What is your middle name?"

"Don't have one. East coast or west coast?"

"West coast. Sometimes I miss The City more than I can put words to." The doctor frowned. "What do you mean you don't have one?"

"I was lying, Doctor." Stone took another sip of his coffee. "Do you want to go back?"

"God, no. No, San Fransisco and I both sold our souls a long time ago."

"You're so dramatic, it's just a city." It slipped out of Stone's mouth without his permission, and Robotnik grinned manically. 

"Let me know how you really feel, Stone."

"Suddenly way more nervous than I was." Stone took another sip of his coffee before realizing it would not help his predicament and setting it down. "What's your favorite color?"

"Red, and you aren't escaping that easily. Do you find me overly dramatic, Stone? Excessive? Too much?"

"No, Doctor! I think you're just right." He abused his natural talents, blinking slowly up at Robotnik, who was still occupying a good amount of his personal space. He was always in orbit, and Stone hoped he would touch down soon. 

Robotnik rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and next week the Committee is going to award me the Nobel Peace Prize." 

Hold up. "How long is it supposed to last?"

"Over an hour. Wait. Sarcasm is fine? So anyone can just say anything as long as they're suitably obnoxious about it? I'm sure that will thrill the boys in intelligence."

"Nice catch."

"I don't need your participation trophy praise, Agent. You can keep it for the next time you need to compliment one of the drooling, empty-headed beasts they call man's best friend." The doctor turned and stomped out of the medical lab, muttering about frisbees. "Disingenuous lapdog."

Stone rolled his eyes behind Robotnik's back. "I love you too, Doctor."

Friday, October 23rd, 2015

Brilliant orange and red leaves fluttered down from the tree canopy, autumn's palette warming the cold grey of the SUV's interior. Stone drove while Robotnik fiddled with the dead badnik currently crushing his thighs, pulling it apart to find what had made it malfunction and cut short the demonstration. He pressed a few buttons in his glove and a red light shone from the palm, sending an x-ray-like scan to his wrist screen. 

"Oh, god damn it. Stone?"

"Doctor?"

"Do you have a torx on you? I've fucked myself again."

"Left breast pocket."

"Good man!" Robotnik slapped a hand to Stone's chest and slid it under his jacket, lightly groping the agent. Stone bit his lip and focused on the road. "Ah ha!" Robotnik pulled the wallet-sized multi-tool out of the agent's jacket triumphantly. He continued disassembling the bot, removing an outer panel and reaching in with the screwdriver. "I've got to improve the battery life on these things. Why does it always come down to power?"

"To be fair, the laser does need a lot of it. If it's not the reload time it'll be something else."

"I know that. If I could just shrink the fission reactor…" They continued brainstorming the whole ride home, the doctor bouncing ideas off of his stone wall.

••

The agent's earpiece popped. "Stone, come to the lab, I need your help with something."

"Two minutes, Doctor." Stone dumped pasta into the strainer in the sink and turned off the burner under the sauce before removing his apron and hurrying downstairs.

Robotnik was in the machine lab, all four auxiliary armatures already deployed to hold open the spring-loaded death trap that was an incorrectly depowered badnik. He was hunched over it as well, hair spectacularly messy, sleeves rolled up, both hands occupied in its chassis. "Oh, good, you finally decided to show up. Come here, there's a—" he grunted, and something clicked in the drone. "Loose plate, at the bottom, the one shaped like a raindrop." Another click. "I need you to realign it. Be careful, it's sharp."

"Yes, Doctor." Stone rounded the lab table and leaned in to have a look. Robotnik had needed to remove his gloves for dexterity's sake, and his bare fingers were hooked around the edges of the badnik's small cargo doors, holding them open. It was going to be a tight fit.

He slid his hand into the metaphorical jaws carefully, pressing gently along the interior until he felt something wiggle. He slid his fingers down until they met the threaded post that was missing a nut. "Hold on, it's got to be in here…" He closed his eyes and concentrated.

Robotnik couldn't look away as Stone's hand maneuvered the interior of his creation with ease. He always treated the badniks with such care, preventing him from getting caught on the dangerous bits. His fingertips glided along gears and wires until he found the missing piece and carefully screwed it back in.

They cautiously pulled back from the drone and its doors snapped shut. Stone offered the doctor a high-five, which he took, and informed him dinner was ready.

They continued their getting-to-know-you game, taking it by turns to lightly interrogate the other.

"Were they still making children do that ridiculous dress-up party posing as a wax museum when you were in grade-school?"

"Yeah, History Fair! Mine was Jane Goodall. Who'd you get?" Stone took a sip of his wine.

"I chose Stalin."

Stone fell into a spluttering laugh. "Oh my god, of course you did, look at you!" He wiped at his eyes. "Ah… That's so cute, tiny Ivo with his glued on handlebar mustache." He chuckled breathlessly.

The doctor pursed his lips. "He was a complicated man who had a lot of bad ideas. Everyone is evil, Stone, I just don't waste my time pretending otherwise."

Stone composed himself and nodded solemnly. "Still. Nobody gets to have a fascist ethnostate. Even the Synthients."

"Certainly not." Robotnik was contemplative, twisting spaghetti around a meatball. "People need a common enemy to truly unite, whether that's a corrupt government, aliens, or an opposing sports team." Or an abrasive and overcurious orphan. "The trick is finding that without throwing anyone under the bullet train. Maybeee," he clicked his tongue. "Global warming?" 

"Maybe. If we're lucky."

Friday, November 13th, 2015

Robotnik leaned over his drafting table, knocking his forehead against the glass, utterly devoid of imagination or passion. He was worn out at the end of the week, actually ready to sleep for once in his goddamn life. 

Being without Stone for a fortnight was a revelation. The agent had been pulled for a mission on short notice, and the sudden and unexpected return to doing his own admin work let him see the shape of Walters' plan with new eyes. He'd turned up the heat so slowly that Robotnik had barely noticed he was being boiled alive.

The net of bureaucracy had kept him so creatively stalled that he'd only had enough time or energy for work. He should have known, that being one of capitalism's most predictable functions. It was aggravating to find himself so effectively manipulated by something he'd thought himself above.

He was interrupted from his brooding by deliberately audible footsteps. He spun in his chair to take in his agent's scruffy post-mission visage, beard decidedly longer than usual and looking comfortable in his travel sweats.

"Stone! Where the hell were you?"

"That's classified, Doctor."

"Give me a hint, come ooon. Where's my souvenir?" He rubbed his gloved palms together.

Stone cracked easily and shrugged off his backpack. "Прямо здесь, Доктор." He pulled out a matryoshka doll and presented it to Robotnik.

"Спасибо!" He examined the doll closely, noting the beautiful detailing and painted flower petals on the apron. He quirked an eyebrow at Stone. "You don't have Russian listed in your file, Agent. Keeping secrets from your employer?" He tutted and waggled a disapproving finger. 

Stone shrugged. "It's only conversational, I couldn't give a technical presentation." 

"Why are you coming in so late? I still expect my coffee in the morning, you know."

"I just got back and wanted to check in with you. The drive here's only a little longer." He yawned and rubbed a hand over his jaw.

"You look dead on your feet, Stone. Go sleep on my couch," he commanded magnanimously. 

"What about you?"

"I'm feeling suddenly inspired." Robotnik turned over the doll in his hands and started disassembling it. Shepherd, goat, sheepdog, lamb, wolf. "Don't wait up for me." 

"Alright. Goodnight, Doctor." Stone left for the elevator.

"And take a shower! I don't want any airport cooties on my furniture!"

The doctor worked on the nested tank idea for several hours before exhaustion finally claimed him. He put the new project away for the night as the twenty-four hour clock switched to 23:30. Time for some shut-eye.

Saturday, November 14th, 2015 

Robotnik groaned and pulled a pillow over his head. He could hear Stone snoring through the damn wall. What happened to being stealthy?

He gave up, threw off his weighted blanket and walked out, taking the pillow with him. BRD1 was hovering over the couch, tilted to observe the agent in his sleep. Robotnik shooed it out of the way then got in position.

"Agent Stone? If you don't wake up in the next five seconds…" The snoring continued as he counted down. He shrugged. "You asked for it." The doctor walloped his upturned face.

The agent jolted upright, pillow falling into his lap. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"Oh nothing, Stone, you just didn't tell me the National Guard would be testing acoustic weapons in my living room! If I'd known you snored I would've made you sleep upstairs."

Stone's shoulders relaxed and he rubbed his eyes. "Sorry, I forgot. Fell asleep on the wrong side. Go back to bed, won't be a problem…" He sleepily rearranged himself, spooning the doctor's pilfered pillow and nuzzling his face into the back cushions of the couch.

Robotnik was tempted to repossess his property, but allowed that the agent's current positioning probably required it. An acceptable loss in exchange for the end of the assault on his ears.

Thursday, December 3rd, 2015

Walters looked pleased as punch. "Dr. Robotnik wants you transferred to his personal payroll. He was very insistent, thinks you're too valuable to the lab's operation to be pulled away for," he checked a sticky note on his desk. "'Spurious spy versus spy bullshit.' Good work, Agent Stone. You've got that snake charmed." 

Stone raised his eyebrows. Another reptile metaphor? "Thank you, Sir. Is that something you can do?"

"We could, but there's something I've got in the works that will be more favorable in the long run. I still need you available for emergencies, like the Kremlin. Your report on the drones was very eye-opening. I think it's time for another spoonful of honey; make sure he's really hooked on you." 

Oh. 

Shit.

••

The doctor stared with glazed eyes at the projector above the Exxon spokesman's head. He wondered what the percentage chance was that this was the exact same powerpoint as last month. Stone would have been able to tell him if he hadn't once again been waylaid by Walters last-minute.

Robotnik's watch vibrated. He looked down and his eyebrows and mustache went in opposite directions. Five red apples. That can't be good. Another vibration, directions to a local coffee shop. He pushed back from the conference table and stood, interrupting the speaker.

"As absolutely fascinating as I find the study of lesser life-forms to be, I can't sit here all day watching politicians putter around using the same fingers they just had shoved where the sun don't shine to give a big thumb's up to unchecked reliance on petroleum products. Pardon me." He wrapped the scarf Stone made for him tightly around his neck and stormed out.

The shop was well lit, with large windows and Christmas lights pulling attention to the storefront. Robotnik took it in as he approached, wondering what could prompt such a reaction from his stoic agent. Stone scared him badly when he reached out from the alleyway next door, clapping a hand over his mouth and dragging him into the shadows.

He threw a bony elbow back, hitting the agent in the ribs. Stone let go and Robotnik spun around and punched him in the shoulder. "What in the Sam Hill is wrong with you‽"

"Commander Walters wants me to spy on you," Stone whispered urgently. He rubbed a hand over his tender side.

"No duh, Agent Obvious! Glad to see you finally caught up!" The doctor's voice echoed off the brick walls.

"You knew?"

"Yes! Why the hell else would your predecessors be so useless? Walters has had a target on my head for years, Stone."

Stone recalled the number of previous assistants he'd gone through. "Why didn't you say anything? Drive me out like the rest?" 

"You were different, I found you interesting." Robotnik stepped closer, breath warming the air between them. "You've never lied to me, for one. I have the data." He reached out and tapped Stone's watch, winking.

He searched the doctor's gaze. "You can't know that. People fake polygraphs all the time." 

Robotnik slowly crowded him against the alley wall. "But not you." He pulled up Stone's EKG history on his wrist screen and pointed to a spike in the wave. "What's this from? Thirty-two minutes ago."

Stone's mouth went dry. "I told Walters I would seduce you. Keep you in the dark about the," he swallowed. "The plan to work you under G.U.N.'s command structure. Keep you distracted. Accountable." The doctor was very close.

Robotnik's mustache curled. "See, Stone? You couldn't keep a secret from me if you tried." He patted his agent's cheek twice. "Now what's say we actually make it inside the coffee shop this time?"

Friday, December 25th, 2015

The box Stone handed him this year was much larger. Robotnik gave his agent a knowing look and asked, "Gloves on or off?"

Stone smiled. "Off would be preferable, Doctor."

The canary-yellow blanket inside was incredibly plush, soft yarn crocheted with a larger diameter hook than the scarf had been. Large enough for Robotnik to be able to reverse-engineer the mechanics of the craft at a glance. He kneaded his fingers into the loose honeycomb of the weave, pulling harshly to test the strength. "Stone, this pattern would be perfect for the nets! Even if one of these snaps, the knot work keeps it from unraveling." He held it up and made eye contact with Stone through the holes in the blanket.

"Thank you, Doctor." His agent looked amused; it's possible his reaction was incorrect for the circumstances.

Robotnik folded the gift and laid it on his desk. "One good turn deserves another. Merry Christmas, Stone." He snapped his fingers, and small, black, four-legged robot flew over and landed in his palm. "This little marvel of modern engineering is BRD2. Say hello, Baker." The Blackout Recon Drone raised one finger-like leg and waved cutely. The aperture on its face opened wide and a bright flash momentarily blinded his agent.

"Like baker's dozen?" 

"Yes, obviously. Brilliant deduction, Agent. Not."

"It's amazing, thank you, Doctor." He held his hand out and their fingers brushed as Baker crawled onboard. "What's its specialty?" 

"He watches and learns. He's going to be keeping an eye on you when you're out on milk-runs for Walters." The badnik quickly climbed up Stone's arm and latched onto his shoulder like a parrot. "A little extra security."

Friday, January 1st, 2016

Robotnik presented Stone with a shitty plastic trophy that had Robotnik's Award for Excellence in Personal Assisting - 2015 Runner Up written in sharpie on its chipped, silver-painted cup. He cradled Numbers in his arms.

"Saati is, of course, the actual winner of last year's award, for performing the incredibly important task of keeping you out of my hair. Didn't you baby girl?" He cooed at the badnik and planted a loud smooch on its shell. "Three-time world champ, right here." She played a dinky little series of chimes in response and doctor looked simultaneously endeared and irritated. "Time to upgrade the speakers on these bad boys. Grab a screwdriver and copy what I do exactly or so help you me."

"Yes, Doctor."

Late that night Stone lined the trophy up next to Baker's charger on the dresser across from his bed. Then he opened the top drawer and pulled the lube out, tossing it on the mattress. He undressed slowly, making sure he really felt the weight of his own hands. Maintenance wasn't just for machines, and it had been a hot minute since he'd taken the time to touch himself.

Tension from several hours hunched over the badniks and the icy drive home had his neck and shoulders tight. He loosened his tie and slid his jacket down his arms, putting it on a hangar on the en-suite door. The pants were folded and set on the dresser, then he undid the top two buttons of his shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it in the laundry hamper. 

Stone tucked his thumbs into the band of his dual-pouch boxer briefs and shimmied them down, then dragged his hands up his legs, digging his nails into the crease at ass and thigh. He slid hot palms up his sides, sighing heavily, head falling back as he pressed his fingers into the ridges of his hipbones, pelvic floor clenching at the thought of his doctor's hands there instead.

Robotnik had started seeking out touch more after the reveal of what they were calling "The Sticky Situation." It had been embarrassing to discover how badly he'd misinterpreted his assignment, but Stone couldn't find it in himself to regret it. The doctor's favor was more valuable to him than any commendation he'd ever received.

He finally relaxed as he laid back on the memory foam mattress, propping his head on a pillow. He popped the cap on the lube and dispensed it one-handed. The other squeezed the saline pump in his right ball gently, slowly bringing himself to full hardness as he stroked his cock with his slick left hand.

He stole some lube from his dick and slid his fingers down behind his sac, tracing over the surgical seam of his perineum, before continuing further to tease over his hole. He moaned as he pushed in a finger, pumping in and out a few times before adding another. The stretch burned deliciously.

He curled his fingers in, searching for the not-quite-a-prostate gland at the base of his bladder and rubbing firmly. His left hand tightened on the downstroke, pulling another ragged moan from his throat. He was oversensitive with touch-starvation, the doctor's increasingly common manhandling currently being his only real human contact. The sense-memory of Robotnik's skilled hands—always so exacting with his machines—gripping him possessively sent a rush of heat through his belly.

His thighs fell open as he hit a particularly good stride, hips twitching into the air as he came. His skene's glands pulsed and pumped slick up his cock, dripping from the top. He rubbed a thumb over the head and shuddered, panting lightly.

Fuck it. A second round couldn't hurt.

••

Robotnik startled and flushed bright red when Stone greeted him the next morning. The agent set down his coffee and leaned a hip into his desk. "Are you feeling alright, Doctor?"

His voice was rough when he responded, "Fine, healthy as a horse." 

Stone frowned and picked the latte back up. "You don't sound fine. I'll be back with some honey-lemon tea."

Robotnik groaned and buried his face in his hands once Stone left. He'd checked in with Baker last night, curious about the hormone spike in his agent's vitals. Now he couldn't push the vision of Stone from his mind, fingers filling himself up and calling out for him. 

He was never going to be normal about that man at this rate.

Stone returned and set down a steaming mug of sweetened green tea. "Here you go." He slid a soothing hand across the doctor's hunched shoulders. "Let me know if you develop a fever, I've got chamomile in the cabinet, too."

Friday, January 22nd, 2016

Winter storm Jonas was coming in quickly, a foot of snow already blown against the warehouse's doors when they finally pulled up to the lab. Stone parked inside and quickly closed the bay doors again, grabbing the mop and cleaning up before the flakes that made it inside could melt.

"You should stay here, tonight, Stone. I don't want you freezing to death if your place loses power."

"Great idea, Doctor. What do you want for dinner?"

"I was thinking pizza?"

They smiled at each other as they stepped into the elevator. "Sounds good to me."

Robotnik cut vegetables and sliced salami while the agent kneaded the dough, pizza stone heating in the convection oven. 

"I think we should reassess your self-defense training tomorrow, Doctor."

Robotnik scoffed. "Please, Stone, I've forgotten more about self-defense than you'll ever know."

"That's what I'm worried about. I want to make sure you're prepared if anything happens while I'm gone. I'll be anxious otherwise. You don't want me distracted in the field, do you?" Stone leveled the doctor with the most egregiously effective puppydog eyes he'd ever seen.

"Fine, fine, do your worst. Just stop looking at me like that." His cheeks were pink in the warmth of the kitchen.

••

Robotnik's groan echoed across the warehouse as his face ground into the sparring mat for the fifteenth time in as many minutes. "This is why I made security drones, Stone." He rolled onto his back and glared balefully at the man.

"Get back up, we're going until you can pin me." He offered his hand to help the doctor.

"I don't think I like your tone, Agent." He accepted the assistance and Stone pulled him to his feet, gripping Robotnik's relatively cold digits between his warm palms.

"You've got a solid background, but you're unpracticed. Your reach is great for a brawler, but you really need put on more weight and muscle before it'll be an effective style. Until then we're going to focus on take-downs and using people's own strength against them." He gripped the front of the doctor's shirt in his fists. "Again."

Robotnik sighed but complied, moving up with his left hand again before switching at the last second, reaching over quickly to grip Stone's right hand in his own and bending down and left to trap his arms. Then he twisted back to the right, getting control of Stone's right wrist with both hands and bending it toward his arm with his thumbs. It forced the agent to turn his back to him if he didn't want anything broken, and the doctor pushed the arm up to press him into the ground. He bent Stone's elbow as he mounted him, trapping his hips and twisting his arm in the same way Stone had done to that hitman so many months ago. 

He leaned down, chest to the agent's back, and growled into his ear, "Don't forget, Stone. I'm in-charge."

Stone shivered beneath him and the fingers of his trapped hand curled where his palm was flattened against Robotnik's solar plexus. "Y-yes, Doctor."

Friday, February 12th, 2016

What's the hold-up?

Stone looked impatiently between his watch and the long line in front of him. Of course it was slammed the Friday before Valentines Day. He rolled his eyes and stepped out of line, pulling off his jacket as he walked around the counter. 

The harried barista looked at him like he was certifiably insane. "Dude, you can't be back here!" There was recognition in their eyes, he was a regular. He trusted in the social contract and flashed his badge, confident in the exceptions it afforded him.

"I'm going to help you with the rush, and in return I will get my order and leave before my boss finds it necessary to retrieve me." He rolled up his sleeves and looked around the back of house, making sure he knew where all the supplies were. He already knew the syrup list by heart, this being his preferred shop to get the doctor's drinks from.

Twenty minutes of continuous grinding, steaming, and pouring later he exited the shop with a free latte and the request that he never, ever do that again.

An impatient Robotnik met him on the stairs at Capitol Hill and popped the lid to sniff it the second the coffee was handed to him. "A heart, Stone? Really?"

He smiled brightly at the doctor. "Tis the season, I guess."

The doctor rolled his eyes and sipped at the lavender-vanilla latte. "Mmh. I suppose it's worth the wait."

Saturday, March 26th, 2016

"I don't like it." Robotnik glared into the dark sky out the break room window. It was pre-dawn, world slowly brightening as the earth turned. 

Stone sharpened a tactical knife against the whetstone on the kitchen counter. "It's just some uppity white supremacists, it'll be fine." He bumped his hip into the doctor's playfully.

Robotnik was not pleased that his agent was being pulled away again, but they were given a week's notice this time, so he wasn't even allowed to complain. "Walters better hurry up with his plan before I die of boredom. I can only take so much, Stone." He'd been putting off accepting new contracts until he knew what to expect from Commander Killjoy.

"I know, Doctor." He finished another blade, passing it over for the other man to rinse and dry. "It shouldn't be too much longer. He's getting impatient, too."

••

Stone's head was ringing. I fucking hate Illinois nazis.

The agent was out of ammo and injured, bleeding from the leg and hip. He was deep in the basement of the police department, limping from a gunshot that had grazed his calf. Baker had proved invaluable, keeping an eye on his back and beeping in his earpiece when there was danger behind him.

G.U.N. had done a significant amount of prep work for this mission, ensuring botched ammo and mismanufactured weaponry had been delivered a month beforehand, but half of these dirty cops still had their personal weapons on them at all times. The last one was on his tail, full of retributive rage and making his position in the corridors between evidence shelves obvious as he shouted threats and racist epithets.

Stone reached onto a shelf and lobbed a bagged and bloodstained vase in a long, low arc across the room, grinning when it shattered. 

"I'll kill you, motherfucker!"

The man's footsteps moved further away, and Stone took a second to message the doctor. Send EMS. The agent blinked heavily as his vision swam. He focused up and moved as swiftly as he could to the end of his mission.

The man turned at exactly the wrong moment, and Stone threw the knife in his left hand, nicking him in the ear. Miscalculated, dizzy, losing too much blood. The cop charged and swung his otherwise useless shotgun like a club at the agent's right hand, sending the other knife flying and breaking something in his wrist. Stone gritted his teeth and kicked the gun out of his grasp, knowing he needed to take this guy out while he was still full of adrenaline. His injuries were bad enough to drop him for good if he was stupid about it.

The cop pulled something out of his pocket. "You ain't the only one who brought a knife to a gunfight, dipshit." He launched himself at the agent, stabbing him in the shoulder with his switchblade. Stone laughed cruelly and pulled him in close, left hand going for a concealed blade.

"That's not a knife, actually." His lip curled in contempt. "The double edged blade makes it a dagger. It's more useful for causing small puncture wounds. This," he pulled his own weapon out of the man's gut to show it off. "Is a knife." 

He shoved away the bloody meat sack and limped determinedly back upstairs. He managed to make it to the front desk before collapsing. He's gonna be pissed. 

••

Stone's text had sent Robotnik into a frenzy of activity, tracking the agent's signal and ringing Commander Walters on the emergency line. He pulled up Baker's camera feed, which was useless, pointed at the ceiling until he'd taken direct control. He positioned the drone to monitor the glass front doors of the precinct and set it to guard his agent.

"Where's the fire, Robotnik?" Walters was too calm not to have been expecting the call.

"Fucking Carbondale, Stone needs extraction immediately." He spoke quickly, almost tripping over his words.

"The cleanup team is already on their way."

"He needs medical treatment, not backup! He's unconscious and exsanguinating." Robotnik was breathing too quickly, hyperventilating, not a good sign.

"The agents are highly trained, Doctor, he'll be in good hands." Dismissive, why was he so dismissive? 

"Where will they take him?" What went wrong?

"If it's as bad as you seem to think, he'll be medevacced directly to Walter Reed."

"What's that supposed to mean, as bad as I think? His blood pressure is ninety over sixty, he's in hypovolemic shock!" 

"Calm down. He's survived worse, he'll get out of this one just fine."

The doctor hung up with a wordless shout of frustration, hands shaking and full of panicked energy. His heart rate was elevated, blood pressure high, cortisol levels off the damn charts. He rushed around the lab, grabbing the emergency duffel bag and a few days of essentials. He packed a powered cooler with blood bags, handing it off to Medic and sending it down to the car. 

Focusing on the road gave him room to think. The call had been weird. He was never wrong. He was not proud of how well the commander's spoiled honeypot scheme was still working. Stone had become indispensable to him, wormed his way into his routines, created new ones. Worse, the agent had done it of his own not-so-innocent volition. Robotnik had become woefully dependent on the other man's support and wellbeing.

The agent wasn’t helpless, damn it, he’d seen him in action! But for some reason he kept going back to the way Stone had looked that first night, a supplicant, praying for help and so glad to be answered. Luckily this desperation was exactly what the commander wanted from him, so following his instincts could hardly backfire. If Walters was smart he would try to use Stone as an emotional hostage.

He made the four-hour drive from the lab to the Walter Reed Military Medical Center in less than three. It was 21:37 when he strode into the hospital with Medic trailing behind him. He approached the front desk and marked the receptionist's hand reaching for something under the tabletop.

"I'm here to see Agent Aban Stone."

"I'm sorry, visiting hours ended at eight. It's family only, now."

He checked his watch, not for the time, but to follow Stone's tracker. The agent was in the surgical wing. 

"Sir, you can't—"

"I have clearance." It was true, even if he'd given it to himself last minute. He pushed ahead, heading quickly for the blue dot on his map. If he moved fast enough, he might make it there before they caught up with him. He turned the corner for the theater's observation room and was met by Commander Walters and his security detail, five agents with guns already drawn.

"Let. Me. See. Him," Robotnik gritted out.

"I'm afraid you'll have to come back tomorrow. During visitor's hours." The commander looked as serious as he'd ever seen him. Robotnik could feel his skin crawl as he stared the man down, fingers itching to let Medic loose.

"Where's the badnik?"

"Your robot injured four agents before it was destroyed, preventing them from recovering Agent Stone for a further two minutes. You're lucky I don't have you courtmartialed." 

"You're lucky I don't burn this place to the ground with you still inside." The tension raised and the agents shifted nervously, attention flicking between the doctor and his drone.

"You need to leave, Robotnik, and I'm not above using force. I don't want to even hear about you being within five miles of this building before eight AM." He attempted to placate the doctor, "I'll let you know when he's out of surgery."

Robotnik glared intensely at the commander before taking a deep breath. He reached out to take the cooler from Medic, prompting the squad to shift nervously. "Can you all take a chill pill?" He handed the cooler to Walters. "Give this to the surgeons, he lost a lot of blood and we don't have the easiest type to keep stocked."

Tuesday, March 29th, 2016

Stone woke slowly, foggy. They'd given him the good stuff, he could barely feel his toes. He took stock of his body, twitching each muscle group and assessing the dull feedback with intoxicated detachment. His right forearm was in a cast, immobilized. His left hand… His left hand was warm.

He flexed his fingers and recognized the familiar bumps of the doctor's power gloves. He struggled to open his eyes, lashes fluttering. He looked down to find Robotnik's hand gripping his own on the thin hospital sheets. He was slumped over the bedside, forehead pressed into the mattress by Stone's knee. Asleep.

The agent scanned the room, searching for a badnik. He relaxed as he found Medic floating in the corner, next to the muted television, red eye monitoring the only exit. His eyes struggled to stay open, unconsciousness calling to him. He breathed a tired laugh at the thought of someone finding them literally sleeping together.

Mission accomplished.

Wednesday, April 20th, 2016

They were taking a lunch break upstairs, Stone laying his cast over his book to hold the pages open while he ate his sandwich left-handed. 

Robotnik was staring again. He'd been doing that more often since they had returned to the lab, and it was starting to affect his productive capacity. 

Stone sighed. "If you hate the beard that much, you can shave it yourself." He didn't look up from his book. 

"Maybe I will." Well now he'd gone and said it. Stone replaced his bookmark and stood up from the butcher block. "Where are you going?"

"Bathroom. You aren't going to focus until it's done, so let's get it over with." He'd practiced using his left hand for so many things in the last year, but those had been for the lab or the doctor, not personal hygiene. An understandable oversight, but still annoying.

The doctor picked up one of the barstools and followed Stone. He placed it in front of the mirror and patted it, ushering his agent to the seat.

The electric clippers were Robotnik's own, nearly a decade old but still going strong with a few replacement parts. He pulled the clam case from the cabinet, popping it open and shaking out the black hairdresser's cape. He draped it around Stone's shoulders, making the agent shiver when the doctor snapped it around his neck, gloves catching in his grown-out crewcut. Robotnik pulled them off mostly out of habit, depositing them on the steel countertop. He tilted Stone's head back with a finger under his chin, deciding the angle to attack from, then flicked the clippers on and got to work.

Cleaning up the beard was easy, trimmed close with a no. 2 guard. The doctor popped it off and lined up the edges, bringing the agent back to his usual well-manicured state. The warmth of Stone's skin under his hands calmed the panicked animal in his chest, body slowly accepting that his man was back safe and mostly sound.

Robotnik had been trimming his own hair for years, touch repulsion making going to the barber one of the nine circles of hell. All he needed was a mirror to get the back, and the badniks were always ready to lend a claw for that. He gave Stone a close fade, one side already done before he could remember to ask how he wanted it cut.

He tried to play it off and finished up the other side. "Looking sharp, Agent."

"Thank you," Stone said, a little wonder in his voice. "We match." He caught the doctor's eyes in the mirror.

Robotnik broke first, looking down as he ran the clippers carefully over the scar holding the skin together over his agents occipital bone. "You receive far too many head injuries, Stone. You can't afford to get any stupider."

"More stupid."

"Shut up."

Friday, May 13th, 2016

It was late, their last meeting of the day. This was not the first time Commander Walters had met with them both at the same time, but it was the first time HR had been there as well.

"G.U.N. would like to extend a job offer to you, as a real player in the organization. Agent Stone has been thorough in his assessment, and we feel confident that your skills in combat analysis and knowledge of terror tactics make you a good candidate for larger missions. The kind Agent Stone has experience in. There is room for advancement as well, should your first year go exceptionally well." He knocked his elbow lightly into Cheryl's.

Mrs. Johnson looked to Stone, who nodded firmly. "This would make you Agent Stone's direct superior, and responsible for his well-being in a way you were not as a contractor." She gave Robotnik a hard look. They had never gotten along, him too dismissive of social norms to make her job easy, her too bigoted on her alternate facebook account to have ever had his respect. "You are expected to act professional in the workplace, which is not a place for threats or harassment between coworkers."

Robotnik pursed his lips but nodded. "I accept your offer. When can we expect our first mission?"

"As early as June, if we're unlucky." The Commander stood to shake Robotnik's hand. "Welcome to the team, Doctor."

The duo exited the Pentagon side by side, squinting into the sunlight. Stone paused as something seemed to occur to him, and turned to Robotnik with an inquisitive look. "Does Rule Two still apply, Doctor?"

He sighed. "Don't wear it out, Stone."

"Of course not, Sir." He grinned and passed the doctor his sunglasses. 

Chapter Text

Monday, June 13th, 2016 — Issue NO. 100 

RE WEEKLY

[photo credit: BRD1, Robotnik Enterprises: motorcycle that has been secured with a shibari harness]

From the desk of Dr. Ivo G. Robotnik

"Happy" Monday. You have all been hearing much more from me than I would prefer the last two months, what with my secretary being out of commission. I pray this will be the last of it for a long while, not because my agent has demonstrated that he once again has full use of his limbs [as evidenced by the expert knot-work he has subjected his death trap to] but because we will be spending a significant amount of time away from the office. Rest assured, my fellow government peons, I remain dedicated to the high standards you have become accustomed to, and all contractual obligations will be fulfilled on an eminently reasonable timeline. If your projects are delayed it will be through no fault of mine. 

It's probably in the best interests of national security that Agent Stone goes back to writing these, as last weeks autonomous vehicle schematics can attest. I simply get too excited [and too in my cups] about the possibilities when writing copy. Luckily the booze has not killed off too many braincells, and Big Brother can rest assured that all files were promptly deleted from the drives of anyone they should not have been sent to. So many of you are using your work computers for such interesting purposes. 

Anyway. All this to say that if you feel the need to call the labs this month, no the fuck you don’t. If you so much as breathe my name into a microphone it will have been too loud. Send an email like a normal person, and my secretary will decide if you really deserve my attention.

Ta-ta for the foreseeable future,

Dr. Ivo Robotnik [he/him/his]

P.S.—None of you are doing enough to hide your affairs from your spouses.

Wednesday, June 15th, 2016

"Knight to E5." Robotnik moved a pawn diagonally to take Stone's rook. He watched another agent across the park stand up and put their book away, turning north, on a collision path with one of their targets. "Sloppy play, Stone." The doctor leaned his head on his palm, bored. "Queen to G6." Another agent appeared to finish stretching and started jogging east.

Stone watched the doctor's back, eyes scanning nonchalantly across the park. There. "What do you think about getting dinner, later?" He arched his eyebrows. "Around five thirty?" He shifted in his seat to make his concealed weapons easier to reach and moved a castle forward three squares. There was a man staring them down, approaching quickly. 

"Pawn, B3. That bistro we passed on the way here didn't look half bad." 

Stone watched an agent in a yellow rain jacket move to tackle the man, taking him down as his hand moved to a gun in his waistband. Stone and Robotnik both turned as shouting started up to the north of their table, blending with the rest of the people in the park looking towards the rotunda. 

"Sure, French cuisine, not like we're in a unique location with its own traditions or flavors," Stone teased.

The doctor turned back to his agent with an incredulous look, hand fluttering to rest against his collarbone with exaggerated offense. "Pardon moi? We've been eating sarmale and ciorbă all week, Stone. I want something familiar." 

"Is my constant companionship not enough for you, Sir?" Stone batted his lashes.

"You're a constant pain in my posterior, is what you are."

Their earpieces crackled, "Do you two mind flirting off-comms? We're kind of in the middle of something here." Shots popped off further down the parkway and the crowds started to scatter.

Robotnik huffed and pointed at Stone, taking his middle finger off the mic button on his glove. "Your sass is not appreciated in this moment, Agent. If you had an actual suggestion you should've made it known sooner." He clicked the mic again. "Rook, take the queen and reconnoiter at base. We're going to have a nice, long talk about how you speak to your superiors." He moved his queen to take Stone's king. "Checkmate. Let's go, Stone."

"Yes, Doctor." They stood and the agent gathered their bags, turning west to head toward the restaurant. Robotnik was still scanning the park around them, expecting further violence. "You know, I might make for a more challenging opponent if we were playing the same game, Sir."

"If you can't simultaneously impart useful strategic information and play a decent game of chess, we're going to have problems going forward." He suddenly grabbed one of Stone's luggage-laden arms and spun him around, reaching into the agent's suit and pulling one of his guns from the shoulder holster. He aimed and shot through the jacket, and the bullet struck the man in front of them, dropping him like a sack of potatoes. Stone looked over his shoulder then back to the doctor, eyes wide. 

"… I'll have to get that patched."

Robotnik put the firearm back and pulled his suit jacket to the side, examining the hole and frowning. "Don't bother. As nice as these suits are, the textiles aren't terribly tactical. I'll figure something else out when we get home." Did agents really run around without any armor all day? That didn't seem practical.

"At least you make them look good," Stone said with a little smile.

Monday, June 27th, 2016

"Agent Rossi, sitrep, now." Robotnik expected the Italian team to be wrapping up by this point. He and Stone had already done their part, chasing down mafia members and evading local "law-enforcement." The doctor's pants had caught on the top of a fence while hopping it, ripping and tipping him on his ass. Stone, loyal to a fault, had broken into a suit shop to find a new pair. 

Rossi's voice came over the radio, "Almost done, Sir. We have three of them locked up, ready for interrogation."

Stone kneeled in front of the doctor, fiddling with the hem of his pants. He pulled a few pins from the sewing tomato on his wrist and fixed the fabric in-place before moving to the other leg.

"Tinker, tailor, soldier, spy. What can't you do, Stone?" Robotnik appraised his agent's precise work with appreciation warming his voice.

The agent looked up at him with a fond smile, wrapping a hand around his socked ankle. "There's nothing I wouldn't do for you, Maestro." Robotnik's fingers twitched, itching to reach out and touch the man's soft hair, even if he wouldn't feel it through his gloves. He nearly succumbed, would have if the owner of the shop hadn't reminded them of his presence with his muffled yelling. "Stai zitto," Stone ordered harshly and shook his head, going back to his work. "Some people have no manners."

Robotnik twisted to look over his shoulder at the bound and gagged tailor. He was furious, not fearful. The doctor smirked and joked, "Well, you know how small business owners are." Stone chuckled. The doctor's eyes caught a symbol over the door and he laughed as well.

"What's so funny, Sir?"

"Oh nothing, Stone, we just seem to have stumbled across another member of La Cosa Nostra." 

"What a happy accident," his agent said with a shitty little grin.

Sunday, July 3rd, 2016

"Hurry up, Stone! At this rate we'll be here all week!" The doctor shouted up at him from his seat on the van's rear bumper. They'd driven out to the URT grounds again, not for their current experiment, which could've been done just as well at the lab, but for the training the agent wanted to take Robotnik through after it. Hence the workout gear they both wore.

"You're not the one who had to climb thirty flights of stairs today!"

"No excuses! Do a flip!" Robotnik yelled. 

Stone took a deep breath and looked down, trepidation filling his body. Five stories was a long way to fall, but he hadn't been dropped yet. They'd gone through six progressively thinner fabrics trying to find the balance between tensile strength, mobility, and tactical application. He reached up one more time to tug at the badnik's claw where it gripped his jacket's lapel, then stepped off the roof.

He free fell for what felt like an eternity but was in reality less than two seconds before bungeeing on the end of Brute's extendo-arm, caught like a kitten by its scruff. The seams dug into his armpits and he grimaced. 

"やった! Lucky number seven!" Robotnik celebrated briefly before a ripping sound was heard and Stone fell the last fifteen feet to the sparring-turned-crash pad with a yelp. "Oof. Número seis it is. I need to stop celebrating prematurely, it's clearly bad luck."

Stone slowly picked himself up and removed the jacket. He was grateful they had started with the thicker fabrics. "Break time, Sir?" he asked hopefully.

The doctor tossed him a water bottle. "Preferably before you break a leg. Ha!" 

Stone approached the tac van and the genius who built it. "Do you still feel up to trying parkour, Doctor?"

"Whether I feel up to it is irrelevant, it is a skill I require." Robotnik took the ripped jacket from him to examine it. He held it out and pointed to the shredded holes where the badnik's grip had torn through. "This won't do at all, Stone, the claws aren't even that sharp. How's it going to handle a knife?"

"Badly?"

"Uh, hyeah. Lucky for you, I'm fan of layers." The doctor threw the jacket at Stone and it landed over his head. Robotnik turned and dug into the storage bins. "Here! For the working agent: knife-proof, bullet-proof, radiation-blocking, low-friction, explosion-resistant shirt and trousers. The only things getting through those are these glorious gloves." He wiggled his fingers, crackling with electricity. "Exert a specific small charge and the seams should pull apart faster than velcro."

Stone's eyes lit up in interest, dropping the jacket and eagerly reaching out for the garments before the doctor could hand them over. The fabric was heavy and soft, weaved entirely from the super strong monofilament that stitched the jackets' panels together. "That's incredible, Doctor." His voice was deeply appreciative, smile so wide Robotnik could count his teeth. "What are you calling it?"

Boyfriend Material. "Spy-der Silk: patent pending. Too expensive for mass production, but we're still within the bounds of G.U.N.'s research budget."

They took a brief break to refuel before moving the crash pad to a courtyard of the training grounds filled with walls of varying heights. They ran through a light warmup and some stretches. 

Stone found the doctor was distractingly flexible, knees almost hitting his chest when the agent tested his range. Stone's hands slid up the backs of Robotnik's thighs and he pressed more firmly, leaning over the doctor with his thumbs pressed into his popliteal fossa. The doctor swung his heels up to rest on Stone's shoulders before winking and kicking him lightly in the head. He snickered as the man regained his senses. They had work to do, no use getting sidetracked.

They finished stretching and took a few practice rolls. Robotnik eyed the wall Stone had chosen with some skepticism. His assistant laced his fingers together to give the doctor a boost and climbed up after him. 

"Alright, you're going to use your limbs to absorb some of the shock, you really want to avoid a sudden stop. It's better to hit the branches of a tree and slow your fall than hit the ground at terminal velocity, right? The goal is to turn downward force into sideways momentum. If you can hit with your feet first and turn it into a roll, that's your best bet. You wanna tuck your chin into your shoulder, too. You can use your palms to protect your head and continue the roll, it doesn't have to be perfect, just safe."

Robotnik rolled his eyes. "Are you quite done? I have a firm grasp on classical physics, Stone." He reached over and pushed the agent off the wall. Stone hit the ground in a forward roll, popping back to his feet and clapping. 

"Okay, just like that, Doctor." The agent clasped his hands in front of himself and smiled expectantly at Robotnik. The doctor sneered at him and attempted to execute a version of it, with much sloppier results. His feet hit the pad and he crumpled like a ragdoll. Stone cursed as he moved to help him up. "Are you okay, Doc? That looked like it hurt." He ran careful hands down the man's arms.

The doctor groaned. "Maybe you should demonstrate the proper form a few more times, give me some data to work with." He detested looking foolish, but at least it was only Stone there to witness it. His agent was always gratifyingly quick to forget his shortcomings.

They continued to work on the basics until Robotnik was capable of rolling safely out of a six-foot drop, with plans to keep working at it until the doctor could navigate an obstacle course of Stone's design. 

Stone was eager to show off for the doctor at the end of the day, bringing him up the stairs of one of the false apartments to watch out the third-story window. The agent went back to the second floor, lined up his route, and ran, slapping his hands on the sill to perform a cat-pass out the window. He landed precisely on the balls of his feet on the high wall opposite, using his momentum to stride the next three walls. He caught himself on the last one, and turned to run along its top until he reached the end, going into a descending arm jump, shoes scraping hard against the concrete. He shimmied sideways along the wall until he was lined up, then reverse-arm-jumped, caught the opposite ledge, and let go, hitting the ground and rolling. 

His earpiece hissed, the doctor sounding annoyed. "How the hell do you expect me to do literally any of that, Agent Stone?"

"Very carefully, Doctor. It doesn't have to be all at once. We'll work up to it. Practice makes perfect, right?"

"No, Stone, practice makes permanent, as does catastrophic injury. I suppose I can appreciate the economy of movement, but this seems advanced for someone of my age and relative physical fitness."

"First of all, you aren't even that old. Second, it's never too late to learn. I have complete faith in you." It was unfair how reassuring that sentiment was. 

Thursday, July 14th, 2016

When the VP thanked the doctor personally for his work on improved missile targeting systems, a breaker flipped in some essential system. Stone could feel it in the angle of Robotnik's shoulders as new tension in his ribs had the breath shuddering out of him. 

He extracted the doctor from the situation as gently as possible. "Thank you so much for your time, Sir. Unfortunately Dr. Robotnik has an appointment we need to get to. It's been an honor." He braced a hand on the doctor's lower back and steered him through the crowd and out into the halls of the White House. His mouth started working again before they had quite left the building, and Stone caught secret service agents keeping eyes on them as they exited.

"What about the modular reactor? Or kinetic batteries? Bird-flu vaccine? Edible plastic? I made the goddamn tricorder real! No, he thanks me for something any Stanford simpleton could accomplish with a month of weekends."

"You seem discouraged."

"Oh, do I, Agent? If even half of my weapons budget was put towards education our poorly proctored populace would have the best schools in the world, drastically reducing the number of loud idiots I have to deal with. Instead I am blessed with many billions of dollars a year to create new toys for underachieving jarheads and their control-freak commanders to obliterate children overseas with. All while the ones who will inherit this shit show can't even consistently get food or healthcare or even clean water. We're not investing in the future, we're destroying it. The glaring inefficiencies of this system vex me. Forgive me if I seem discouraged." 

They finally exited the property, Robotnik striding quickly ahead with his long legs. He was deeply agitated, more so than Stone had seen him in a while. When they made it back to the hotel he started pacing, and Stone excused himself to run an errand for the doctor. He was back in less than an hour with a small bag and some rolling papers. 

"What were you doing down at Shaw Station?"

"Getting something to relax you, Doctor. Indica. Come on, let's hit the roof."

They snuck up the service stairs and propped the roof door open behind them. Robotnik took in the surrounding view of the bustling city. "Nothing like committing a felony in the nation's capital, eh Stone?"

"This barely registers on our list of crimes, Sir." The agent rolled him a joint and passed it over. 

"Light?" Stone pulled a zippo out of his pocket and flicked it open, Robotnik leaning over to let him light his fire. He inhaled deeply, eyes sliding closed, before blowing the smoke directly into his agent's face. "That's not bad. Nice flavor profile, too." He took another drag and held the joint out to the other man. "Quieres?"

Stone chuckled. "Party like we don't have work tomorrow." 

Robotnik was still aggravated, and there was no drug on this planet that would keep him from talking unless it also knocked him out. "It's so fucking frustrating. A government's job should be to provide a basic standard of living for its citizens. It's so unbelievably inefficient to keep putting more and more tax dollars into the military when starting infrastructure projects and investing in renewable energy would improve quality of life for literally everyone. Not to mention that reduced aggression on our part would make everybody else so much less eager to kick our collective ass. I can't complain too much, as obviously I am a product of excessive military spending, but christ alive, Stone. I feel like I'm the only one who can see the world sometimes."

He must be really out of sorts, he didn't usually curse this much. His angry tirades tended to be about half performance art. "I didn't know you cared so much about the common man's plight, Doctor."

Robotnik sneered, "I don't. I just like being correct." He huffed and started pacing again, snatching the joint from Stone on one of his passes. "There's a certain obligation that a ruler has to their people. Shirking that responsibility inevitably leads to revolt, revolution, and the destruction of the social contract that keeps the world stable and predictable. You have to understand something before you can control it."

"Like your machines?"

"Yes. Don't even get me started on the hangover Mccarthyism left us in regarding automation. If I have to hear one more argument against robots taking people's objectively shitty jobs I'm going to blow up something important." 

He had to pause his ranting to smoke, and Stone took his opportunity to offer the man some comfort. "Would you like a hug, Sir? They're proven to reduce stress and improve brain function." The doctor looked at him like he'd suggested they start doing the can-can on the roof's ledge. Stone just opened his arms. 

Robotnik found it difficult to argue with the science, and he was already well-aware of the effect the man's touch had on him. The agent somehow managed to get under the guards his nervous system put up. He reluctantly stepped closer, watching Stone's eyes crinkle with satisfaction. The doctor raised his arms and allowed Stone to embrace him, looping his own long limbs around the agent's shoulders. Stone's grip slowly tightened until Robotnik's back cracked, and the doctor relented, holding him nearly as tightly in return.

"Fifty-seven seconds, Stone."

"Yes, Doctor." He melted against the taller man's chest, and Robotnik huffed a laugh into his hair. 

Thursday, August  25th, 2016

Walters smiled while reading Agent Stone's latest mission report, feeling reassured of his decision to bring Dr. Robotnik onboard. The man was incredibly talented, taking to his new position with an ease that belied his uncooperative nature. He coordinated operations large and small with aplomb and no small amount of style. He'd executed every mission flawlessly, so far. Seven in total, each wildly different in size, scope, and location. 

He'd been worried about the hostage exchange in Korea, but Stone's work as translator had kept things civil long enough to complete the job. Agent Stone kept Walters well-informed of their progress, with an emphasis on the doctor's leadership capability. He still wasn't exactly a social butterfly, but that was probably for the best. The watchful agent's presence at his side seemed to be keeping him satisfied, for now. He hadn't received a real complaint about Robotnik in over three months, a new record. The commander had often asked himself whether sacrificing Stone had been worth it, but having the two of them in the field was an excellent compromise. 

Of course, Stone wasn't the only one sending him reports. The agent was gaining even more of a reputation among his peers as someone to be respected and feared. He was nearly always in Robotnik's presence, and even when separated, communicated with him near constantly. If Agent Stone gave an order you could be sure he spoke with the full authority of the mad doctor behind him. 

They could stand to work on their radio etiquette; the two operatives communication style could most charitably be described as "disturbingly tactical" and most amusingly as "embarrassingly intimate." But consensus between their coworkers seemed to be that the two of them were like tonic and gin, Stone's sharp presence simultaneously elevated and transforming the doctor into something palatable. Not a bad trade. 

•••

The commander had been running them absolutely ragged. They spent more time away from the lab than ever before, and Robotnik was starting to miss the days when it was only paperwork keeping him busy. He was, dare he say it, homesick, missing his drones and routine more with each day gone by. Coffee and pastries tasted different when you didn't know the person who'd made them wasn't poisoning you. 

He'd have to create a new routine, if this was the typical amount of travel Walters expected from him. Something familiar to keep his timing accurate. Stone should be able to help with that, like he did everything else. He continued to be an efficient buffer between Robotnik and the drudges of humanity, keeping the doctor's focus on the planning and processing. He had a way of speaking to others that made them want to listen, not just too scared to disobey. He may have to take another page from Stone's book.

They were running their first duo mission, no other oversight or backup to support them. Robotnik had wanted to pack a badnik or two, but the commander was still tetchy about them after Stone's last solo assignment. They'd intercepted a package and needed to avoid capture, a relatively simple thing. Or it would have been if there were not a violent group of angry Frenchmen on their tails. 

They split up at the hotel, Stone leaving on a rented motorbike and leading most of their pursuers on a wild goose chase. He weaved through Paris' nightmarish traffic, shaking them so easily that he wished he'd just waited and taken the doc with him. Oh well, live and learn. He looped back around to wait for his partner on a nondescript side street. 

Robotnik was having a slightly more difficult time of it, needing to pack and wipe any traces of their presence from the systems they'd infiltrated. He hacked the hotel's security feed and realized all the obvious exits had been cut off. Well, time for a little creative thinking and destruction of property. Good thing they'd checked in under a pseudonym. 

He called down to the front desk and, in fluent French, requested they send anyone asking after him to his room. "Ce sont des associés commerciaux de mon mari. Mercé beaucoup, Mademoiselle." He propped the lock latch in the door to keep it open and planted several small bombs around the room, then texted Stone to meet him in the alley. 

He heard his agent's motor first, and leaned out the window to toss down their bags and whisper-shout at him. "Watch this, Agent." Stone gave him a thumbs up and a smile. He sat against the open windowsill for several minutes, listening for the approach of the goon squad. Suddenly, the door slammed open, and several burly men entered, with more in the hallway. Robotnik waggled his fingers coquettishly at them before exiting the window with a cheerful, "Adieu, rageux!"

Stone watched open-mouthed as he tipped backward out the second story window and flipped to hit the ground feet-first, somersaulting in reverse. Two seconds later there was a small explosion and smoke started pouring out the window. Robotnik cackled triumphantly as he sprang upright and ran to hop on the back of Stone's motorcycle.

"That was amazing, Doctor!" There was an excited flush to Stone's cheeks and a proud grin on his face.

"Thank you, Agent Stone. Now, time for this train to leave the station!" Paris had been fun, but Robotnik found himself wishing they'd come under different circumstances. He held onto Stone for dear life as the agent pulled back into busy traffic, on their way to the Gare du Nord. Maybe their next destination would be somewhere more relaxed. 

Saturday, September 24th, 2016

Dr. Robotnik had instructed Stone to bring his best suit along on Thursday, citing an important event they needed to attend. The agent ruminated on the oddity of Robotnik scheduling something without telling him. Granted, they didn't usually work on anything official on Saturdays, but it was strange. 

Still, he supposed the doctor's friendship with the soon-to-be-Mrs. Roberts had been close enough to warrant the interruption to their now-shaky routine. Robotnik was part of her wedding party, earning them a luxurious room at the venue rather than the holiday inn down the road. She had been very accommodating of the doctor, making him her best man without any of the standard responsibilities that usually entailed. "What, you think I'm gonna have a bachelorette party at my age?" He'd still complained about the wedding being out of town, of course. 

"Stone? I hope you're decent, I have something for you." Robotnik entered the common space where his agent was getting ready and bequeathed unto him two matte black boxes. He gave Stone an appreciative up and down, approving of the sharply tailored jacket and pants.

Robotnik himself looked like nothing so much as a great bird of prey. He'd traded his standard long button-up for a shorter tunic with a stripe of red running up the center. A high-necked cape draped over his shoulders, lined in brilliant red silk and tapering in the back like folded wings. A ruby button near the top pulled the look slightly more towards modern elegance than military futurism. He'd elected to go gloveless for the special occasion, not overly concerned about security, but they'd brought BRD3 with them at Stone's insistence.

Stone popped the lid on the larger box and pulled out a pair of ostentatious red-soled mid-calf boots. "Louboutins?" He looked down and saw the doctor's slim slacks tucked into a taller, but similar pair. "Very nice, Doctor, a real statement piece."

"Yes, yes, I look fantastic. Open the next one."

The smaller box contained ruby studs and cufflinks, and a bright red tie. "I noticed your ears are pierced, so I thought a little extra coordination would be in order." Stone hadn't worn jewelry since the last time he was in Berlin, he was lucky the holes had not healed over. He toed off his dress shoes and pulled on the boots, lacing them quickly and efficiently. He ran his fingers briefly over the spiked studs above the outsole. They really were very nice. He switched out his simple silver cufflinks while Robotnik reached out to start undoing his tie, and Stone swayed into the pull of his hands. 

"You do look fantastic, Sir." The cape emphasized the broadness of his shoulders and the agent was having a hard time resisting the urge to touch him in return. 

"Thank you, Stone." Robotnik looped the new tie around his agent's neck and pulled it into a complicated cafe knot, smirking. "Now that you're presentable we can get this show on the road." He straightened his agent's collar and they were off. When Stone caught their reflection in the elevator doors it settled the covetous monster in his chest. They looked like a unit. 

Tina and her wife were resplendent in their suits, red and white respectively. Their wedding was presided over by a judge instead of a priest, at a venue known for its beautiful gardens. Stone teared up and the doctor mocked him for it mercilessly. They managed to navigate the whole of the ceremony and opening festivities without pissing anyone's grandmother off, so it was going pretty well.

"Stone, could we have a moment?" Robotnik gestured outside, and they made their way from the reception hall to the hedge mazes. The doctor seemed flightier than usual, maybe he was nervous around so many people he couldn't yell at? He led them a good ways in before he stopped and turned to face Stone.

"I'm going to ask you for something… Strange. And I'd like for you to consider it fully before you say no." His hands curled nervously at his sides.

"Anything, Doctor." Stone's brow furrowed in concern. 

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "I trust you, Stone. I trust you with the most important parts of myself." His girls, his safety, his tenuous mental health. "I don't think I can continue doing this whole rigamarole with Walters without you. When you were hurt…" When he opened his eyes they burned with past fear. "It was the most scared I've been in decades. They wouldn't let me in to see you." His breathing had quickened.

Stone reached out and took his right hand. It trembled in his grasp. "Breathe with me." He placed the hand over his heart and inhaled deeply. Robotnik calmed with the steady up-and-down, the physical reminder that his agent was fine, damn it, stop overreacting.

He continued. "I also need someone to be there for my babies, if something happens to me." His gaze turned intent. "You know the lab inside and out, you know my design philosophies, you repaired Guppy practically single-handedly. I don't want my work falling into the hands of the hack scientists G.U.N. keeps under their thumbs. They'll strip everything good from them just so they can have another mindless weapon." 

"Doctor, what are you asking for?" 

Robotnik took hold of his hand as he got down on one knee. "Dr. Aban Stone, will you commit marriage fraud with me?"

Stone blinked rapidly in surprise, eyebrows moving high up his forehead. "Are you sure?"

"I'm the defense departments top engagement analyst, of course I'm sure! I've thought through every angle of this thing a googolplex of times." Robotnik climbed back to his feet with a little help from his assistant. Drama was one thing but this was an important conversation. "I'm not getting any younger, I'll need you to continue my work. Please, Stone."

The agent looked down at where his hand was cupped under the doctor's bare one, brushing his thumb over Robotnik's pale knuckles. He'd made himself so vulnerable.

"Have I mentioned that they won't be able to make us testify against each other for that thing in Poughkeepsie? Spousal privileeege," he sang. The bribery seemed unnecessary.

"Yes, Doctor, of course I'll marry you." It was nearly a dream come-true, in fact.

"Oh good, I can finally cash in my favor with Judge Strong. Come with me." He led Stone with purpose through the hedges. They stopped in the split entrance of a circular maze that mirrored itself. The little plaque in front declared it "Processional" but Stone thought it looked like a flying saucer with the large, leafy bump at its center. 

Robotnik released his hand. "Meet me in the middle?" Stone nodded.

They gradually made their ways through their respective halves of the maze. Stone considered how strangely close he'd become with his charge, the brilliant man whose mind he'd admired for so long. The touches they shared, once so rare they could be counted on one hand, becoming more frequent as Robotnik had gotten more accustomed to his presence. Eventually he entered the lush green dome at the center, at almost the exact same time as the doctor, and they locked eyes. He had instinctively matched Robotnik's longer strides, and as usual was only a half-step behind him.

Judge Strong, the same woman who had officiated the official wedding, greeted them warmly, along with Tina, who had toted in a box of expensive champagne. "Mrs. Roberts, he roped you into this, too?" She and Stone hugged briefly. 

"Yeah, kid. You're not friends with someone for this long without doing them a few favors." She nodded at Robotnik.

"Tina, is that Dom Perignon? Retirement treating you well, I see." His voice was laced with smug satisfaction.

"Like you don't know." She whispered to Stone, "Fucker bought us a house up in Cape Cod. I could kill him, I hate the goddamn Patriots."

They got situated in the shady center of the maze, doctor and agent facing each other while BRD3 filmed from where he sat on Tina's neat grey bun. "Alright, Ivo, let's hurry it up. Some of us are actually expected to socialize," she heckled.

"Have you prepared your vows?" the judge asked wryly. 

"Indeed I have, your honor." He took the agent's right hand in his own. "Stone. Your presence in my life has improved it immensely, personally and professionally. I deeply value your loyalty and companionship. Your steady support these last two years has made all the difference in the world. What else is there to say? You are my rock." Stone's smile crept slowly across his face as Robotnik spoke. He hadn't expected something so genuine and… tender to come out of the doctor's mouth.

"Dr. Stone?" The judge asked.

Stone nodded and Robotnik's face lit up in pleased surprise. "I'm good at thinking on my feet." He squeezed Robotnik's hand. "Doctor, you have always inspired me through your words and actions. Every day I find myself more devoted to you. I vow to protect you in peace and in war. To care for you when you're too busy to care for yourself. To be, to the best of my ability, an extension of your will."

"You may kiss the groom."

Stone raised the doctor's hand to his lips and gently kissed his knuckles. Robotnik couldn't contain his charmed grin, or the affection that bloomed anew in his chest.

•••

"Like many parts of your record, they will never be able to prove it said anything else." 

Stone smiled and bumped tipsily into Robotnik's side. It'd been a while since he'd had more than a couple drinks, too concerned with the doctor's safety to indulge. They were both several glasses of champagne looser, wandering happily around the gardens and enjoying each other's company. "What did you do to get a favor from the judge?"

"It's not a question of what I did, Stone. We dated briefly while she was in law school, she cheated on me, I exploited her well-deserved feelings of guilt and justice. And now we're even." Stone's eyes narrowed in consternation. How anyone could throw Ivo away like that escaped the agent. "By the way, I'm bisexual."

"I could have guessed. You're very flamboyant, Doctor."

"Thanks, it came free with the autism. Not that I've ever allowed myself to be formally diagnosed; I know Walters would just love to get me declawed. That's a one-way ticket to a conservatorship for yours truly."

A shamefully hot lurch went through Stone's gut at the thought. "You know I wouldn't do that to you, right, Sir?" As appealing as the fucked up little thought was, the only good Doctor was one who was free to do as he pleased. 

Robotnik stopped walking and Stone turned to face him.

"You remember everything I tell you, right, Agent?"

"Of course, Do—rrr!" Robotnik had abruptly shoved two of his fingers into Stone's mouth, hooking behind his bottom teeth. He didn't know what to do with his tongue.

"Then why are you making me repeat myself?" Robotnik reeled his partner in, studying his eyes closely. "I trust you, Stone. I know you won't dare make me regret it." He shook the man gently by the jaw before pulling back his fingers and dipping them in Stone's champagne flute. Then he popped them in his own mouth.

Stone looked dazed, pupils blown, but still had the wherewithal to hand him a handkerchief.

•••

Their next "covert operation" turned out to be a week's vacation to Cancun. Robotnik was reluctant to call it a honeymoon, but there was really no more accurate term. "No one who'd look for me would think to check such a hot tourist destination. Plus I wanted to surprise you, it seems to be getting harder to do anymore."

"Only because I always expect you to impress." He was such a soft touch.

The doctor was actually serious about taking time away from work. They went hiking, ate out at nice restaurants, and spent hours exploring tide pools. Robotnik seemed incredibly taken by a crab that pinched his finger. "Look at how perfectly the claws fit against its shell, Stone, offense and defense in one pulchritudinous package!"

They spent a day at a nude beach just for the novelty of it, and Stone was glad not to be the only trans person there. There was a cute couple splashing in the surf, naked as jaybirds and deliriously happy about it. The woman shrieked, "Thomas, don't you dare!" as the man lifted her easily and playfully tossed her into the waves before diving after her.

Robotnik got more sun exposure that week than he had in the previous year, pasty complexion warming under the bright sun. Stone kept up with the sunscreen religiously, as a peeling sunburn would not make for a happy doctor, but privately thrilled to see the start of extensive freckles plastered across his cheeks and shoulders.

It was, for obvious reasons, the most he'd ever seen of Dr. Robotnik. Stone was just so relieved at the evidence of the good his care was doing, Robotnik's muscles defined by hard work rather than starvation. It didn't hurt that Stone had always found him easy on the eyes. The contrast between his previously painfully bony self and now was distinct. He tried not to stare too much, but he wasn't exactly in the practice of keeping his gaze off the doctor. 

Robotnik had no such compunctions, eyes cataloging every part of Stone with scientific interest and aesthetic appreciation, and just a hint of lust. It kept the agent on his toes, wondering if this would be the the time the catalyst finally ignited. Unfortunately, the doctor's meticulous planning had left them few excuses for happy accidents. 

On their last day they watched the sun rise over the ocean waves, lighting the sky up pink and orange. Robotnik took his partner's hand gently and spoke with quiet surety. "I don't want you to think I'm not receptive, Stone. In fact, I appreciate your patience very much."

Stone flushed. "I don't expect anything from you, Doctor. You don't owe me." 

Ivo squeezed his hand. "Oh, but I do, Stone. I have a duty to you the same as any god would for their first, most devout follower. My heart simply moves slower than my brain." 

Stone couldn't distinguish between love and duty. Intellectually, he understood others felt a difference, but he'd never been able to separate the two. He supposed, if the doctor could find it in himself to feel that for Stone, he'd be more than happy to "settle." Robotnik didn't feel obligated to anyone or anything but his own vision of the future, and Stone knew he was becoming integral to that vision. 

Stone let the quiet moment stretch before relieving the tension. "I think it's supposed to be 'more slowly,' Doctor."

Robotnik shoved him face-first into the surf, threatening to drown him with a wide, sharp smile.

Monday, October 3rd, 2016

Birdie no longer stalked him on his coffee runs. It was a small change, and the badnik still ran a scanner over the cup once he set it down, but it warmed Stone's heart regardless.

Robotnik was working on a non-military project for once, blueprints hovering over the holographic table while he adjusted the rough draft. Stone stared at the spheroid, trying to work out the purpose of the design. "What is it?"

"It's going to be an oceanographic exploration vehicle. The scanner handles most of the data collection, but the JSFO wants it to have enough space to comfortably hold the research team for thirty-six hours. They want to explore the deep, dark, lightless abyss, see what's crawling around down there."

"That's why it's a sphere?"

"Yes, only a complete moron would make anything else at those pressure levels. But, much like with the badniks," Robotnik flicked his hand and revealed a different layer of the model, showing large, curved panels that sandwiched the top and bottom of the chamber. "I will build an advanced outer shell to hold the power supply and locomotive mechanisms." 

Stone tilted his head and regarded the schematic. It kind of looked like a manta ray. Then he noticed something odd.

The agent pointed to a spot at the front of the badnik, right behind the large central eye. "This piece is redundant. You can filter seawater through the core here to cool it." Reworking the modular reactor's current cooling system would save more than nine cubic feet of space, pulling back the sensors to fit just under the protective shell.

"Brilliant! Just like a crab!"

"What?"

Robotnik's hands clapped on either side of Stone's face. "Just like a real crab, Stone! Carcinization! Convergent evolution strikes again!" He gripped his agent's shoulders and shook him violently. "Form. Is. Function!" He took off, needing to run a lap of the balcony to calm himself down. His sneakers' squeaking echoed off the warehouse walls and Stone valiantly held in his laughter.

Monday, October 17th, 2016

All of the drones were behaving differently. It had taken Stone a while to mark the differences, but once he had he brought the data to the doctor with his coffee. "The badniks aren't… Not listening to me, if that makes sense. I think there's something wrong with the last firmware update,"

Robotnik spoke distractedly, still focused on his work, "I'm never wrong, Stone. You already figured a way around that problem the first time, what's the issue?" 

"No, they're not not…" He looked frustrated with his inability to communicate. Birdie floated over to scan the doctor's latte, then did a loop around Stone and nuzzled under his elbow. "This! They keep bumping into me or following me. Not the way they used to."

Robotnik eyed his contraption with suspicion. "Give it an order."

Stone looked askance at him. "Uh. Birdie?"

Chirp?

"Play dead." The badnik hit the floor with a clunk and Stone's brows raised in surprise.

The doctor wracked his sizable brain for what could have changed in the last update. He hadn't edited any permissions, so that was out. "Birdie, up and at em." The badnik rose into the air and started beeping, floating between the two men. "Stone, give me your service weapon. Go stand over there and call for it." He pointed to the railing. He was starting to form a hypothesis.

Stone passed one of his pistols to the doctor and did as instructed. When Robotnik pointed his weapon at him he froze, but Birdie did not. In fact, the badnik did something he had never seen before. "Threat identified." Panels on its sides split open and revealed its arsenal, pointed directly at Dr. Robotnik himself.

"No, stop, Birdie, stop!" Stone's voice shook uncharacteristically, suddenly filled with fear for his charge. He rushed to stand between the robot and its creator, shielding Robotnik with his body. "Doctor, please put the gun down, I don't know what's wrong with it." 

"But I think I do." He handed Stone's gun back to him and pulled up the agent's lab profile on his wrist screen. He scrolled down through the history, all the way to the most recent changes, and barked a laugh. "Here's the problem, Stone. Or should I say Dr. Robotnik?" He offered his hand to the agent.

"What?" He pulled the doctor's wrist over to read the screen. "Dr. Aban Robotnik. Oh my god." He looked up into the other man's amused eyes, slow realization rolling over his face. His, I'm his. "I'm—"

"Yes, Stone, what's mine is yours, apparently." He smirked. "Of course, that street goes both ways."

"You're never getting rid of me, now." Stone grinned, elated. 

"Mariticide is still on the table, Agent. Don't get too cocky."

Saturday, November 5th, 2016

Stone returned with takeout and found the lab empty. He pressed a finger to his earpiece. "Doctor?"

"On the roof."

He looked haggard, chain smoking, cigarette butts scattered around his feet where he sat on one of the planter boxes. For some reason Stone hadn't thought he would care overmuch about the election.

"Well, there goes my last chance at non-military funding." Robotnik's shoulders slumped. How was he supposed to drag humanity into the future if all they wanted from him were weapons? "I knew the world was full of imbeciles, I just didn't think they were quite so prevalent. At this rate there isn't going to be anything left to rule over, humans are going to boil themselves alive and take the food chain out for bonus points."

Stone sat down beside him and squeezed his knee with a warm hand. "Will you tell me about your world domination plan again? I promise I won't laugh this time." His voice was soft and serious.

The doctor tilted heavily to the side, leaning on his agent to steal some of his body heat. "It'll have to be modified. I don't know that it can survive this level of stupidity in its current state."

"No plan survives first contact with the enemy, Doctor."

Robotnik sighed. "Let the record show that reimagining the shogunate was not my first idea. The United States used to be much smaller, Stone." The agent considered his childhood being dragged between military bases and had to agree, although maybe not in the way the doctor might have meant. "If my intel is correct, and it always is, G.U.N. is powerful enough to flex its influence over every branch of the American military. That means taking control of the defacto world police will be easier than ever before." 

"Couldn't you just rig an election, Sir?"

"Please, Stone, do you know how much power Walters would have to give up to become Commander in Chief? Part of the power play is in keeping it secret. No, politics are not the way to go. Not that I have any illusions my winning personality could get me anywhere close to a ballot." He scratched his chin and twisted the end of his mustache. "Has he given you any more information about what's in-store for my oh-so-compliant countenance? I've managed to muzzle myself in every meeting since induction, surely that promotion is on the way?"

"No, Doctor, nothing at all. I'm beginning to think you'll have to force his hand. Maybe quiet compliance isn't the answer? If he thinks you're under control, there's no reason for him to change anything."

"Hm. You may be onto something, Stone. Will it be too obvious if I start 'acting up' again? Or will he brush it off as the honeymoon period ending?"

"I can try to swing it that way, Doctor. We'll have to stagger it a bit or it won't be believable."

"Naturally. First thing's first. I simply need to rise meteorically through G.U.N.'s ranks until I've acquired enough power to assume leadership, or," Robotnik readjusted and pressed his cold nose into the side of Stone's neck, making him shiver. "I make my tech so integral to their systems that I could hold everything hostage at the press of a button." 

The agent squeezed his knee again. "Por que no los dos? A monopoly on fear."

Robotnik chuckled darkly. "I like the way you think, Stone."

Saturday, December 17th, 2016

Robotnik had given his assistant full reign over their outfits for the night, and the man didn't disappoint. The invitation had said formal, and Stone went all out, wrapping the doctor in red and gold, tailcoat fitted and ostentatious, spats bright. He stuck to black, himself, but wore the gifts Robotnik had given him on their wedding day. 

They'd been invited to the G.U.N. holiday party, an objectively ludicrous event that brought together every capitol agent and stateside officer for a night of embarrassing festivities and mediocre canapés. Robotnik refused to go to such an event without at least three badniks for security. He capitulated to the theme by taping felt antlers to the top of them, red eyes shining like Rudolph's nose and giving him plausible deniability. Unfortunately, the costumes invited far more conversation than he anticipated or wanted.

"They're so round, that's so cute! What inspired your design, Dr. Robotnik?" The woman who was the latest in a rotation of fools to bother him reached out to lay a hand on his arm. Stone glared murderously at her.

The doctor scrunched his nose and shrugged. "It's the Boston Dynamics effect. What's the point of a deadly robot that isn't marketable?" He pulled his arm away from her and wrapped it around Stone's waist, tugging the agent into his side. Nothing like a possessive hubby to discourage unwanted advances. And his agent was more possessive than most. "Adorable killing machines do seem to be my calling card, after all." That off-putting statement combined with the agent's expression had her retreating, and Stone curled into his chest with a laugh. "Come along, Stone, let's cut a rug before you cut somebody."

There was a live band doing swing covers of Christmas classics, and the ballroom floor was starting to fill up with partygoers eager to get their groove on. "Just follow my moves, Stone." Robotnik took the lead, pulling his agent into a quick-step routine that was familiar to him, having watched the doctor spin badniks around the lab while in the throws of his dance breaks. Their time spent sparring together proved invaluable, able to read each other's intentions in the turn of a hip and the flutter of an eyelash. The doctor was so familiar with the weight of him already, every push and pull perfectly calculated to get the agent where he wanted him.

Stone let himself relax into the choreography, gazing into the taller man's eyes with adoring excitement. The doctor was equally enraptured by Stone's wide smile, prompting his own grin to split his face. It was incredibly satisfying to have a dance partner that matched him so well. He ended the routine with a twirl and a dip, Stone throwing his arm and head back dramatically.

The overheated duo retreated from the festivities, parking themselves firmly on the still-crowded outdoor patio. They shied from the heat lamps, brisk nighttime chill bringing them both some relief. Stone unbuttoned and flapped his suit jacket, encouraging a little air flow before he excused himself to get them fresh drinks.

An unpleasantly familiar woman's voice called out from behind the doctor. "Canoodling at the Christmas party! How typical for you, screwing your secretary. Though you don't usually do it literally."

He rolled his eyes as he turned to face the speaker. "Cheryl, glad to see you still haven't learned the definition of 'sexual harassment.' Wouldn't want the HR lead to be too well-informed, would we?"

She scoffed and wobbled toward him in her heels, clearly a few drinks in and ready to make terrible decisions. "Stop trying to play house with the help."

"I believe he prefers the term partner." Robotnik smiled cruelly, mustache curling as Stone returned with refreshments.

"Or husband, as long as we're being formal. Malewife if we're playing." And they were certainly in the middle of a rousing game of cat-and-mouse.

Cheryl jumped, tripping over herself as she turned to take in Stone's serious expression. Robotnik had to admit the agent's glare would have been intimidating if he had been anyone else. As it stood though, he felt only schadenfreude for anybody stupid enough to get between them. 

Robotnik leaned over her shoulder. "I liked it so much I put a ring on it." Not an actual ring of course, he hadn't expected Stone to say yes. "Can you let us go back to our 'canoodling' now? I think you'll find my beau doesn't appreciate our time together being interrupted.”

"When the hell did that happen? You can't, you're his superior, you— you didn't submit the forms for starting a workplace relationship!"

"Oh, we didn't? Stone, you're usually so good with the paperwork," the doctor said with mock surprise. "Of course, if you'd been paying attention to your employee files you may have noticed something important dated say…"

"2002, Sir." Robotnik looked at Stone skeptically, and the agent shrugged with an enigmatic little smirk.

Cheryl extracted herself from between them, objecting inanely with, "Gay marriage wasn't even legal then."

"You don't say? Well goodness, it must be a mystery." He winked at Stone and took one of the beverages off his hands. "Could you even drink at that time, honey-buns?" He took a sip and smacked his lips, making the agent smile.

"No, Doctor. It must have been a terribly controversial wedding." He loved when Stone went all-in on the joke. 

Cheryl piped in again, "Wait until Commander Walters hears about this."

Stone shut her down immediately. "I think you'll find Commander Walters is very aware of the situation. He practically arranged it himself."

Robotnik clapped a hand to his partner's shoulder and steered him away from Cheryl's aggravating presence. "Let's go, Agent Stone, what do you say we blow up this popsicle stand?" He'd had, frankly, just about as much corporatized holiday cheer as he could take. "Au revoir, Mrs. Johnson, let's not do this again soon." He pressed a button and the badniks came flying out of the party, arranging themselves protectively around the Doctors Robotnik.

Monday, January 2nd, 2017

Stone had always enjoyed maintenance. Building his first motorcycle in sixth grade remained one of his favorite childhood memories; the smell of motor oil, learning how all the pieces work together, the satisfaction of finishing such an ambitious task. 

His science fair project that year had covered the history of combustion and steam engines, including a small, partially transparent model he'd made to show the mechanical processes. A love of machinery had led him to seek a degree in engineering. He'd repaired every appliance in his own house at least twice, and far more complicated tools, weapons, and vehicles in the course of his military career. He was by all counts an accomplished, intelligent man. 

So the fact that he could not get this blasted Mr. Coffee reject to pull a shot in under sixty-two seconds was frustrating to say the least. 

He stepped back to consider the expired espresso shots lined up on the counter and caught the oven clock. Almost 06:00, he'd simply have to modify his process and figure it out later. 

His hands worked swiftly through the motions of making the doctor's drink. He added a splash of nondairy creamer to the cup to save the shots as they poured while he steamed the almond milk, listening carefully to the harsh, high-pitched whine of the low-fat liquid.

He painted a little firework explosion in the foam and shook a few rainbow sugar crystals on top. Robotnik had asked him to start experimenting more heavily, claiming his processing power took a dip every time he got distracted trying to parse a new recipe, and wouldn't it just be a shame if something interesting happened on a mission because his assistant put the slightest bit more vanilla in than last time?

Personally, Stone suspected it was the man's dairy allergy he was trying to work around. It had left Stone in the unfortunate position of trying to get the doctor to eat more often, since he wasn't getting the caloric boost from whole milk anymore. He'd desperately tried using yak milk on their last trip, but it didn't help. Something about the proteins must have been too close to cows' milk, which was, of course, why he hadn't switched to ghee to begin with. Thank badness for vegan butter. 

He returned to the lab with a fresh latte, a piece of fruit, and a few cookies on a plate. He listened to the doctor rant about the failures of human biology while one hand gesticulated wildly with the half-peeled banana. 

"Well, Doctor, I have heard of a promising gene modification process developed recently. I could call-"

"Nonsense, you know I couldn't possibly trust my body with somebody else's work!" He took a long, ironic slurp from his coffee. "No, you'll just have to figure out the right recipe. This one isn't doing it for me, not creamy enough." Foam stuck to the bottom of his mustache and Stone found it helplessly endearing. 

The doctor reached over and opened a desk drawer, rummaging around for something. He produced a shiny, new plastic trophy. Stone decided to try his luck, despite its silver color. "First place?"

Robotnik pressed a series of buttons that was too long to make the joke worth it, producing a loud, incorrect buzzer noise. "That would be Baker. You were absent for a combined month without notice! You aren't eligible for gold, try again this year." Technically, BRD3 shouldn't have been eligible for Robotnik's Award for Excellence in Personal Assisting either, with that caveat, but there was no arguing with the doctor.

Wheedling he could do, though. "I just think I deserve a little reward for my hard work, Sir." 

Robotnik flushed at the thought of the "little reward" Stone had given himself last year. "Oh, I think you've got that well in-hand, Stone." The agent quirked an eyebrow. "If you really need something extra, you can use the company card."

"What company card?"

Robotnik stood abruptly from his chair and backed Stone against a workbench, gloved hands gripping the edge on either side of his agent's hips. He loomed, curved over and apart from Stone. "Have you been using your personal funds for groceries the whole time? We have government funding, we have a budget, we have a joint bank account. Your foolishness truly astounds, Stone." The agent blushed, only working the doctor up more. Robotnik leaned further into his space, Stone's spine curving where the table hit his lower back. "You've had power of attorney for months. What the hell were you doing with it?"

The shorter man swallowed, eyes on the doctor's lips. "Paperwork, mostly. We've been busy." 

Robotnik growled, "Take some initiative, Stone." 

The agent's eyebrows raised and he tilted his head in consideration. Robotnik furrowed his brow, what could he possibly be thinking over so hard? Stone seemed to reach some kind of consensus with himself, searching the doctor's gaze as he straightened up. 

Robotnik realized what was coming a half second early and steeled himself. He'd given the agent his orders, now he had to deal with the consequences. 

Stone's warm hands came up to cup his jaw, skin soft despite the callouses from frequent weapon and tool use. He squeezed his eyes shut as Stone kissed him, body locking up and hands clamping down on the table at the firm press of his lips. Stone pulled back to correct the doctor, pressing their foreheads together. "We have to go to the bank in person to add me to the account, Sir." He brushed his thumbs over Robotnik's cheekbones, bringing the doctor back to earth. 

His eyes fluttered slowly open. "… I could just crack it." He licked his lips.

"Then why haven't you?" Stone looked at him knowingly. "Admit it, you love showing me off."

Robotnik grumbled, slowly relaxing into Stone's gentle palms. The familiarity of the banter was reassuring. "Shut up. And do that again." It seemed his agent was more aware of the doctor's limits than he was himself.

Stone pressed his affectionate smile into Robotnik's, giving him one more kiss before he reminded the doctor of his current project deadline and the call the agent had scheduled for 07:00. Curse their mutual work ethic.

Thursday, January 26th, 2017

Walters tapped his papers on the table between them. "Alright, Dr. Robotnik. Please walk me through the events in Turkey."

"Turkmenistan. You already have Agent Stone's report, why do you need me to give a repeat performance?"

"Because I need you to be able to justify G.U.N. taking unauthorized military action before the new president's ego gets involved."

"Well get it authorized. He's a buffoon. You could tell him I fought off a ragtag group of anthropomorphic woodland creatures and he wouldn't even ask what species. Seriously, who decided to let this imbecile anywhere near the nuclear codes? I thought you valued stability."

Walters sighed. "Dr. Robotnik, I don't have to inform you of how important the smooth transition of power is in this situation. Whether we like it or not, we have a duty to this country, and its laws."

Robotnik scowled at him. "We're Guardian Units of Nationsss, we have a—" finger-quotes "—duty to every country. You can't possibly tell me that the Commander in Queef is actually concerned about any of this. He couldn't point out Azerbaijan on a map, let alone tell you why the OTS is significant. Not to mention the skew his ties to Russia would put on the information if he was intelligent enough to comprehend it." Robotnik's eyes rolled so hard it tipped his chair back. "Just tell him the commies were making a play for it and he'll forget about it faster than I forgot my sixth atomic wedgie. Hell, you could invent a country to blame it on."

Walters wondered, not for the first time, what he'd done to deserve dealing with a third Robotnik during his career.

Tuesday, February 14th, 2017

Stone walked into the lab after a conference call to find that Robotnik had set up several laser arrays on the lab tables. The main beam was split into two at the halfway point, one beam continuing straight ahead and the other reflected ninety degrees. This design was repeated over several tables, covering the long room between him and the doctor in sensitive scientific apparatus.

"Agent Stone?" Robotnik called across the space, not looking up from the monitors on his desk.

"Yes, Doctor?"

"Pin yourself to the wall and say something sappy, you're usually good at that."

The agent pressed himself against the cool surface. "You look very handsome today, Sir."

Robotnik blushed. "I said sappy, not horny. I'm testing something specific, here."

"What's that, Doctor?"

"The effect of the 'Power of Love' on gravitational waves. There's something strange in the physics of our world, Stone. Something's not adding up, and I intend to uncover exactly what that is." 

Stone's eyebrows raised. "And you think it's love?"

"Love, friendship, attraction, gravity, blah blah blah. We're still missing something from the quantum equation. An essential piece of the puzzle. And you, my fantastically functional flunky, have been throwing off the strontium clocks from the moment you walked in. Simply put: time flies when you're having fun." The doctor leaned closer to the screen and muttered under his breath, "There, what is that?"

"May I approach the throne, your evilness?"

"No. I've set up multiple sensors to see if the effect is directional. Hence why I've had my henchman detain you." 

Stone grinned. "I love your sense of humor, Doctor." Robotnik lifted a hand from the desk and motioned for him to go-on. "I love how inventive you are, always working on a new breakthrough. I love the way you dance around the lab." The doctor looked up, his shoulders starting to creep toward his ears. "I love the way you look at me when I back you up on a job. I love how vicious you get when someone's rude to me. I love the way you talk to the badniks."

Robotnik was starting to look overwhelmed, flushed. Stone continued without breaking their staring contest, eyes soft. "I love cooking for you. Your body language is always so appreciative, even when you don't say thank you. I'm glad you let me take care of you."

The doctor's voice was rough when he spoke, "That's enough, Stone. I think I've got all the data I need." He looked a little shaky as he went back to his monitor, carefully consolidating the readings he'd collected. 

"Can I come look?" Robotnik nodded and started pulling up holoscreens with the various waves and readouts. Stone slowed his approach as he took them in, furrowing his brow. He came around the desk to stand beside him and leaned over to ask, "Does that mean what I think it means, Doctor?" 

Robotnik side-eyed him. "What do you think it means?" It shouldn't mean anything so quickly, not without thorough analysis, but the agent was very observant. One of his finest tools, really.

Stone frowned at the wave forms' synced recordings. The slight ripple seemed to indicate two points of disturbance. "It looks like…" He glanced up at the doctor, who had turned fully to stare at him in fascination. 

"Spit it out."

"Entanglement?"

"Quantum entanglement?" Stone nodded hesitantly and Robotnik looked at the waves again. "Huh. Phenomenal."

Saturday, March 11th, 2017

Walters had slowed down on the number of missions he assigned since Robotnik started revamping his reign of terror. It left them with a little more time to themselves, and the doctor had been doing some planning. If he was really going to start taking world domination seriously, preparations needed to be made. 

He worked on expanding the greenhouse while Scarecrow and Stone prepped seed trays. The badnik was part of a new line he was developing for agricultural work and handling the gardening while they were out of the office. It was currently watching and mirroring Stone's movements, both of them poking holes into the dirt and depositing seeds in the old egg cartons. 

His agent looked comfortable, cozy in old jeans, boots, and a large, warm sweatshirt. He had the sleeves rolled up, revealing toned forearms and sending the doctor's imagination running like a victorian catching a hint of ankle. 

Robotnik found himself easily distracted these days, any time the two of them were alone. It was hard for him to get out of work-mode on missions, but once they were back at the lab the gloves were off. Agent Stone had gotten bolder with his affections since their kiss, his compliments and coffee art becoming hard to describe as platonic. It left the doctor in a lurch, struggling to comprehend the reality of their situation despite all evidence declaring that their feelings were mutual. It just wasn't something he was used to.

Sexual attraction was one thing, he'd observed the lust in Stone's eyes many a time, and it certainly provided a confidence boost. However, it had nothing on the resonant feeling of their partnership. They worked so well together, nearly perfectly in-sync, two halves of a binary star system. The way his agent supported him cut all of his labor in half, including the hard work of loving himself.

He didn't just mean subjective evidence, either. The readings from his experiment last month had pushed him to understand Stone's care for him as being fundamental as Newton's laws. A solid base to build further theories off of. It was almost as if the man had been made just for him, a gift from the universe, making up for all the affection lost over the long years of his life.

"Doctor?" Stone was looking at him, concern in his voice. "Are you feeling alright? You've been spacing out for a while."

Robotnik cleared his throat and turned back to his task. "Perfectly fine, Stone. Just processing. Focus on your own work."

"… Yes, Doctor."

Thursday, March 16th, 2017

It was late, they'd wrapped up their mission early, and the doctor wanted to celebrate with cheap liquor and stargazing. He'd been pregaming, so Stone was left to drive the truck, far from the cities and settlements of Norway. Robotnik had been especially touchy today, hands and emotions both.

It was still cold, too early and too far north to be a good time for this, but Stone would always indulge his husband his flights of fancy. He was well-prepared for it, at any rate, the emergency bag in the footwell containing blankets and snacks, and a large thermos of hot chocolate in his backpack.

When they could no longer make out the artificial glow of civilization Stone pulled off the road and parked. The two of them built a nest in the truck bed, the doctor slapping at Stone’s hands for the perceived slight of placing their makeshift pillows too far apart. 

"Do you want me to freeze to death? Finally cash in on that inheritance I so happily arranged for you?" Robotnik took a quick swig from his bottle, grimacing at the burn then passing it over before settling in.

"No, Doctor, sorry." Stone pushed his pillow closer and shimmied over to press their sides together before tugging the top blanket over them both. He set his gaze on the sky and startled, marveling at its beauty. "Oh. Wow." It had been a very long time since he’d seen the pale run of the Milky Way. 

"Wow indeed, Stone. How eloquent." The doctor shivered despite his layers. "Reminds you how small it all is. Easy to lose." He went quiet, nothing short of the majesty of the cosmos able to inspire such awe in him. 

"Are you feeling alright, Sir? You’ve been… sharper, today."

"No more than usual, surely?"

Stone hummed noncommittally.

Robotnik sighed an apology under his breath, scared for it to be heard even in their isolation. 

They laid together under the stars, the doctor occasionally pointing out some constellation of particular interest and imparting the legends behind it. Stone, familiar with most of them, nonetheless listened closely. The lilting tone Robotnik used was a familiar one, but in this context was no longer sarcastic, more that of a practiced storyteller. At some point the doctor decided they were not close enough, and turned into Stone, curling around him and resting his head on the man’s chest. 

"Have you heard the one about Tanabata and Kengyu?" he asked, intimately close.

"Why don’t you remind me, Sir?"

Robotnik’s fingers curled in Stone’s jacket. "Tanabata was a princess, heiress to the heavens above, immortal and lovely. But despite these qualities she found herself dreadfully alone. She was exceptional, and exceptionalism brings contempt and jealousy for those who hold it. She yearned for someone to share her long existence with.

"One day a mortal, Kengyu, caught her eye, and she condescended to meet him on the earth below. He captured her attention, and the longer they spoke the more infatuated she became. They fell deeply in love, and Tanabata promised she would bring him to rule the celestial heights at her side.

"When the plot was discovered by her father, he became enraged that she would fall in love with a mere mortal. But he would not make a liar of her, no. Instead he placed them as stars in the sky, together forever yet unable to hold one another, eternally separated by the Great Celestial River."

The doctor was quiet again before he choked out, "I was alone for so long." His lip trembled and he bit it to quell what surely would have been a whimper. "I would have taken anything, Stone. Any small scrap of real affection, and somehow the universe saw fit to give me you."

Stone looked at Robotnik, the cold tears gathering in his lashes. He pulled him closer, wrapping a warm arm around his partner, and pressed a kiss to the doctor’s forehead. "You'll always have me, Sir. You couldn’t make me leave if you tried."

Robotnik sniffled pathetically, then wiped forcefully at his eyes. "See that you don’t. Lucky that I don’t have a father for you to contend with." Funny, it had never felt like good fortune before.

Friday, March 24th, 2017

Stone entered the tiered operations room to witness his favorite sight: Robotnik in his element. It wasn't often Stone got to relax and just watch him anymore.

His voice was eager, carefully directing both individual agents and tactical units. He was profusive in his praise and criticism, never missing an opportunity to reinforce good behavior, or tear down a stupid decision. He flitted from screen to screen, checking blueprints and personnel trackers, positively bouncing around the command center.

He was a man of extremes, and he thrived in the chaos of orchestrating an operation just as well as the quiet of his lab. He really did have a knack for leadership, and they'd been very lucky with the officers assigned this time around, all quick to follow instructions with enough intelligence to effectively direct their own teams. They had managed to get used to his constant movement within the first couple hours, taking his egomaniacal muttering in-stride.

Dr. Robotnik was deeply involved in the management of the whole mission. More than once Stone saw him lean over an agent's shoulder to use their microphone directly. His control over every element was absolute. It took a few minutes, but eventually there was a lull in the action, and the doctor turned to him with a manic grin. "Ah, Agent Stone! Just who I wanted to see!"

Stone brought the doctor his caramel latte, oat milk steamed with cardamom. Robotnik took it with both hands, middle and ring fingers on his right one folding into his palm as he reached for the cup. He smirked at the latte art, an egg with a mustache, and took a sip.

Stone grinned. "I love you, too." 

Robotnik promptly choked on his coffee. At least three agents' heads whipped around to stare at them. Whoops.

Monday, April 3rd, 2017

Stone was having a bad day. He'd woken up late, forgotten Baker on his nightstand, dropped his tablet and shattered the screen, and had the worst meeting with the Commander since the time Robotnik blew up a general's car during a weapons demo. He knew it was part of the plan, but that didn't make Walters' criticism of his job regulating Robotnik any easier to take. On top of that, the espresso machine was acting up again, so he had made the doctor café au lait instead, and now neither of them were happy.

When he brought Robotnik his 11:00 coffee the man had taken one look at him and pressed the hotkey combo that pulled up his vitals, frowning. 

"Stone." Stern.

"Doctor." Tired. 

"Go get my rug, the one in my bedroom."

"Yes, Doctor." 

Robotnik skimmed through the recording of Stone's conversation with the commander, right before the point where his blood pressure had started to rise. "—ou're supposed to be keeping him in-line. Instead he's out there running rampant over the chain of command with his micromanaging."

"His success rate is unprecedented, Sir. You've seen the results—" Typical Stone, still defending him in the hot-seat. 

"Yes, and I've read your reports, and your fellow agents'. You're clearly emotionally compromised."

"Are you questioning my professionalism?" Stone's voice was cold, throwing up warning signs Walters would have to deliberately ignore to miss.

"You have to know what it looks like, Agent."

"That's the point of a honeypot, Commander." Stone was taking no prisoners, Robotnik found his composure and refusal to back down incredibly alluring. The doctor was not always the best liar, just a tad too reactive for it. The agent's ability to "commit to the bit" had to be one of his favorite things about Stone.

Stone had never been allowed in Robotnik's bedroom before. He looked around the room, taking in the black sheets and heavy blanket on the large bed, the closed doors to the closet and en-suite, utilitarian sideboard, and the... paper calendar on the bedside table? He moved closer then let out a startled laugh. It was an obscure-word-a-day calendar. The doctor poured so much effort into every little thing.

Stone gave the bed one last longing look and brought back the plush little sheepskin area rug that had lain on the floor next to it. Robotnik took it from him and instructed the agent to remove his shoes and jacket. Then he threw the rug down next to his chair and pointed at it, making intense eye-contact with Stone. "Come sit at my side like the loyal dog that you are." 

Arousal flared to life like propane burning in Aban's gut. He couldn't look away as he kneeled on the soft cushion of the wool, sitting back on his heels.

He watched Robotnik slowly remove his glove one finger at time and toss it on top of the neatly folded jacket on his desk. He reached out to hook a finger in the collar of Stone's shirt, tugging him a little closer, then patted his leg. "Head in my lap, Stone." The man obeyed, closing his eyes and slumping to rest his forehead on the doctor's thigh. Robotnik ran his bare hand slowly up the back of his neck and head, chilly fingers sending a little shiver through him.

"How long before your next meeting?"

"Nothing until after lunch, Sir." 

"Hm." Robotnik scratched lightly at the nape of Stone's neck. "Do you need to… talk about it," the doctor certainly hoped not. "Or just need a break?" Stone held up two fingers and leaned harder into his leg, sighing heavily. The doctor chuckled softly. 

They stayed like that, Robotnik focusing on his work while he ran his fingers through Stone's hair, occasionally sliding his hand over the agent's shoulders. The doctor felt the tension slowly ebb from the man, allowed him to readjust as his knees complained. 

Stone's watch vibrated at the end of the hour, indicating it was time for lunch, and he slowly drug himself back to the world at large. He sat up but was halted before he could move too far away, Robotnik caressing his cheek.

"You're very good to me, Stone. Don't worry about anyone else's skewed opinions."

Stone clasped the doctor's hand to his face and kissed his palm.

Wednesday, April 19th 2017

Stone entered the break room at 17:00, intending to start on the smashed potatoes to go along with the slow-cooked pot roast he'd had going all day. Instead of his nice, neat workspace, he was greeted by a chaotic assortment of chemical equipment and the doctor's whistling while he worked, goggles and lab coat out of place in the kitchen. 

"Doctor?" He approached slowly, taking in the spread of distillation equipment and various beakers.

Robotnik startled and turned to face his agent, who looked perturbed at having his culinary workspace taken over when he needed to make dinner. "Yes, Stone?"

"What are you doing?"

"Synthesizing testosterone."

"Can I ask why you're synthesizing testosterone in the kitchen?"

"Medical lab's in the middle of sanitization." He'd dropped several petri dishes full of different bioluminescent bacteria on the floor, but the agent didn't need to know about that.

Stone sighed. "Why are you making testosterone, Doctor?"

"Why do you think? I don't want you to,"—have to go without—"get all hormonal on me." Robotnik winced, way to put your foot in your mouth.

Stone moved lightening quick. He pressed the doctor against the counter, trapping him with his hips, almost tightly enough to bruise. Robotnik blinked and there was a knife at his neck. He took a slow, deep breath and lowered his hands to grip the counter, nonthreatening.

"Just to be clear, Doctor," Stone's voice was low, diction as dangerously sharp as his weapon.

"Mm-hm." He nodded hesitantly.

"I have killed people for far less." He could do it, too. The badniks were compromised, and G.U.N. would never hold his agent accountable in a situation like theirs. In point of fact, Robotnik had set Stone up to inherit the whole of his small empire, providing more than enough motive to end him. Real fear ripped through Ivo for a second.

Stone felt Robotnik's dick twitch against his pelvis. He pursed his lips. "You do know that it's a controlled substance, right?" He slowly lowered the blade, but didn't pull back from the doctor.

"We're already growing cannabis on the roof, what's another felony?" Robotnik pushed up his goggles, furrowing his brow at Stone. "Are you nitpicking my charitable act of kindness?" 

His agent raised his eyebrows incredulously. "You're not going to speak to me like that. Not about personal stuff." 

What could be more personal than insulting his intelligence? He'd already done that plenty. The doctor quickly switched tracks. "I'll make it up to you. You could show me how much of a man you really are," Robotnik implied with a dirty grin and a waggle of his eyebrows. Trust the threat of bodily harm to be the thing that finally got his engine going.

The agent narrowed his eyes. "You're lucky I like it when you're mean." He took a deep breath, letting the instinctual anger dissipate, and put the knife away. "This is very… sweet of you. But unnecessary. I'd appreciate if you'd tell me before getting involved in my medical care, next time." The doctor's face fell. "I'm not saying 'no more experiments,' just ask first. Please." He pressed a chaste kiss to the doctor's lips.

Robotnik swayed after him as he pulled away, but as desperately as he wanted the doctor, Stone wasn't going to reward bad behavior. Capital E “Evil,” sure, but not cruelty. Intimacy issues aside, the agent was also reluctant to establish sex as a bargaining chip in their relationship. Stone wanted to help the doctor, not create emotional pungee-pits for him to fall into. 

"Now, if you want to eat any time soon, we need to clean this up." He went into custodian mode, entering the medical lab before the doctor could stop him. "What the fuck happened in here?" Okay, maybe dropped was not the most accurate word to describe what Robotnik had done with the petri dishes. "It looks like Jackson Pollock went at it with a fistful of glow sticks!"

"Just wait until I turn on the blacklight!"

Monday, May 8th, 2017

Stone came down to the lab with the doctor's coffee in one hand and the espresso machine under his arm. He set the drink down and the extra clinking of the glass caught Robotnik's attention.

"Iced coffee, Agent?"

"Steamer wand's broken." Stone dropped the hunk of molded plastic and metal on an unused workbench and turned to pull a few tools from their places on the wall. Robotnik rearranged a few holoscreens that were blocking his view of the agent's workspace. The doctor had seen Stone with his hands in a number of machines now, and it hadn't gotten any less satisfying. He followed the practiced motions of his agent dismantling the kitchen's coffee maker as he tweaked the angle of the fins on a submarine design.

"I think you should go for your robotics doctorate. You aren't the sharpest knife in the drawer, but you're smarter than the rest of the apes I'm so graciously sharing this planet with."

"I'm already pretty busy, Doctor." He extracted a small pipe from the machine, frowning at it.

"It wouldn't be that difficult, you have most of the prerequisites already. Remote learning is all the rage these days."

Stone looked up. "You're serious?" Robotnik quirked an eyebrow. "You're serious." He looked back down at the espresso machine he'd been fighting with for the better part of six months. "I'd have to do original research." 

"Fortunately, you have full access to an extremely well-stocked mechanical laboratory and incredibly robust simulation software. Unbelievable, I know." Robotnik could see the gears clicking in his assistant's mind, turning over the idea.

"… It's been over a decade since I've even thought about school." 

He smirked as Stone's gaze became more distant, soft with longing. "I seem to remember someone telling me 'it's never too late to learn.' You're not retracting that statement, are you?"

"Not at all, Sir."

"Come on, Stone, put another PhD on my good name."

"Your bad name."

"My downright villainous name."

Stone smiled, decision made for him. "Alright."

Friday, May 19th, 2017

Dr. Robotnik was being uncharacteristically helpful again. Walters nodded along in their meeting, listening to the man pontificate on the importance of upgrading security. "I could get through any door in this building with a calculator and a maw-full of big-league chew!"

There was real passion in the man's eyes, an investment he hadn't previously witnessed from the doctor. It wasn't the first time the man had surprised him with an upgrade. Between the facetiously named "Husband Material" and the equipment he'd provided free-of-charge to their associated medical teams, Walters suspected his plan had been a success.

Robotnik was getting possessive over the agency. Make a man part of something, willing or not, and he will become protective of it. It was the reason the commander kept up with so many of his agents personally. G.U.N. was a a bit like Olive Garden in that way; when you were here, you were family.

He'd kept an aerial view on Ivo over the years. At first out of concern for Gerald Robotnik's only remaining grandchild, then out of concern for his soldiers safety after coming up against the doctor's work in the field.

"You should take advantage of having me salaried, Commander, this is the cheapest my labor gets."

He'd seen bits and pieces of it before, this need for approval that Agent Stone had figured out so quickly. It made him easy to manipulate. Let him be Daedalus and the Minotaur in one, building his own perfect maze for them to keep him in. It can't be a prison if you love it, right? 

"When you're right, you're right, Robotnik. Get a proposal to me by Monday and I'll see what I can do."

Saturday, May 20th, 2017

Stone rolled into the lab at 06:30 with a large thermos of strong drip coffee under his arm. The espresso machine had finally crapped out on him on Wednesday afternoon and he hadn't gotten a chance to repair or replace it yet. Shipping to the lab was not as efficient as he would like, and he only rarely had the free-time necessary to manufacture parts himself. 

Robotnik hunched at his desk, bare digits fiddling with one of his gloves. He had been complaining about the waterproofing recently, after an incident involving his fingers and Stone's mouth had resulted in them both getting shocked. 

"Agent Stone, you finally arrived, you lout. Get me a latte, I've been up all night and I need the caffeine desperately." Stone poured him a cup and handed him the lid to the thermos, which the doctor sipped and then tossed over his shoulder. "Insubordination! I said latte, not late! I expect my orders to be followed to the letter!"

"Doctor, the espresso machine is still broken." Not to mention that it was the weekend, and Stone's time was technically his own. 

"Then use the aeropress, I don't care, just have my coffee on my desk in the next fifteen minutes." Stone sighed but headed upstairs. The doctor was always in a worse mood when he was tired. 

Still out of it without his own caffeine, Stone trudged to the kitchen and picked a milk from the fridge at random. He turned to get a small pot from the rack and froze at the sight of the large, gleaming machine on the counter. A sticky note with the doctor's messy handwriting read, "HAPPY WORLD OTTER DAY" with a winking doodle of the Robotnik Enterprises logo underneath. What a dork. 

Stone ran his hand over the top of the new espresso machine then pressed the small red button on its front. A hidden light bar flicked on and illuminated the workspace. The bean hopper was already filled, and the dial for the grounds was set to his preferred coarseness. Stone got to work, steaming the milk and pouring it over perfect shots of espresso. He carefully drew a heart-eyed badnik on Robotnik's latte and made his way back to the lab. 

"Here you are, Sir." Stone set the cup on the desk then leaned down to smooch his partner on the forehead. "This is a much better surprise gift. Thank you."

"You're most welcome, Stone." Robotnik tilted his chin up and tapped his lips, and the agent leaned in for a proper kiss. It started gentle and chaste, but quickly heated up when the doctor bit him. Stone's lips parted with a gasp, and Robotnik's tongue took advantage as he cupped the back of his agent's neck. Stone muffled a moan into the doctor’s mouth, grip tightening on the desk chair. Robotnik’s other hand slid to the small of the agent’s back and ushered him to straddle his lap. 

Once Robotnik decided he wanted something—Stone not an exception for once—it was difficult to dissuade him from his goal. In this case that seemed to be mapping the agent’s teeth more thoroughly than his last dentist had, tongues sliding slickly against each other. Stone quickly grew short of breath, hips rocking distractedly against the doctor’s. Robotnik’s fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him back with a wet noise and another airy gasp. Those hazel eyes observed him with a smug superiority, but another twitch of Stone’s hips reminded them both how affecting Robotnik found the agent. 

A ding echoed from the computer, pulling their reluctant attention. The doctor scooted forward, pressing his agent against the desk as he checked his email. "It seems our plans are finally in-motion, my beauteous bootlicker. I don’t think I’ve ever been so pleased with the technological deficiencies of the U.S. government." He started typing a reply, and Stone slumped into his shoulder with a groan. So much for Sloppy Make-out Saturday. "Chin-up, Agent." He nuzzled into Stone’s neck. "I’ll secure that sabbatical soon enough, and you’ll get me all to yourself." 

"I'm looking forward to it, Sir."

Chapter Text

Thursday, June 1st, 2017

Stone tossed a diamond necklace into his backpack alongside the painting storage tubes and assorted family heirlooms. He moved to the next poorly constructed deposit box, one of many in the equally poorly constructed strongroom, and Baker made quick work of the lock with a short laser burst. "This robbing banks thing isn't as interesting as the movies make it seem." 

"Yes, the excitement wears off after the first few times." Robotnik rifled through a stack of legal documents, searching for something especially incriminating. They were here after one man, and one man only. The doctor could only stand so much, and the so-called-inventor needed to be taken down several pegs. He was diluting the standard for what people considered genius. "It goes without saying, but I don't want this little side-quest ending up on Walters' desk."

"Of course not, Doctor. Purely recreational outing." He tossed another piece of jewelry into the bag without looking, efficiently concealing the motive for the break-in.

The doctor's watch pinged as he finally dug up the dirt, indicating their timeline shortening. "Hurry up, Stone, security's on their way." He startled at the agent's proximity when he popped up at his elbow, holding the bag open for him. Robotnik raised a fistful of papers triumphantly and shoved them in the backpack on top of the assorted treasures and trash. "Take the gem, too. Who tiffany cuts an emerald? Jeez that's gaudy."

"Makes sense," Stone said with a derisive snort.

They left quickly, closing and locking the vault behind them. Stone boosted the doctor up to the half-circle window they'd entered through, high up the wall of the basement floor corridors, then followed quickly, running and doing a wall-pop to reach Robotnik's waiting hand. The doctor hauled him up to the sill, grinning at him, and held a finger to Stone's lips. They were pressed close on the window ledge. Stone listened and heard dress shoes slapping on the marble floor, approaching quickly then fading as the security guards passed underneath them on their way to the vault.

They made it outside undetected, replacing the window behind them, sparks flying as the doctor spot-welded the bars back in-place with a pointer finger. Robotnik grabbed Stone's hand and dragged him downtown, through side streets and over fences, even through a bar at one point. The doctor's planning was, as always, flawless. They'd be able to catch their early flight back to the east coast in less than eight hours, which gave them just enough time to get out of dodge and get a very late dinner. Robotnik loved the easy shift of schedule that came with being in a major metropolis—especially San Francisco—late night diners and food carts open all hours. He stopped them at the edge of a small park and took Stone's wrist, removing the disposable gloves the agent had been wearing to keep his fingerprints off everything. He shoved them into his coat and carefully tucked his own leather ones into Stone's right breast pocket. Robotnik was pleased to be out and about, eyes gleaming with mischief after succeeding in another small step of his grand plan. "Hope you didn't mind spending your birthday with the geek squad." He was referring to the team of IT specialists and white hats that Walters had them working with to "upgrade" G.U.N.'s digital security. A whole week spent in noisy, hot server rooms with people who didn't know what deodorant was. Sensory hell.

"I can handle the work, just don't leave me alone with them."

They split at the little lot where the vendors had set up, Stone heading directly for a truck advertising the "Best Pulled Pork This Side of the Mississippi," Robotnik looking around for something that would have fresh vegetables at that wee hour of the morning. Ah, shawarma, perfect. He ordered extra tabbouleh, intending to cram half of it into the wrap with the meat. He had always liked vegetables, crisp and clean, the closest he could get to absorbing the sun's energy directly. That did not mean he didn't still miss the comfort food that was no longer in his diet.

Stone wandered back over to him with his greasy cardboard carton, and they made their way to a picnic table. Robotnik eyed Stone's side of mac'n'cheese with considerable envy. The agent took a bite of his bbq and coleslaw layered monstrosity—easily half the size of his head—and his eyes slipped closed with a small moan of culinary delight. Robotnik took this opportunity to steal his plastic fork, quickly stabbing and wolfing down a bite of deliciously cheesy pasta.

Stone spoke with his mouth full, eyes still closed, "You're going to regret that, Doctor."

"You are a cruel, miserly keeper, Stone. I went most of my life unaware of this allergy, a little dairy every now and then won't kill me." He vindictively stole another bite, he was never one to go home without going big. It was a prime example of the kind of food that had made him so well-padded as a younger man.

"Don't let me stop you. I can make you something similar when we get home, though. Oat milk should have enough fat to replicate it fairly faithfully." It already worked wonderfully for cream of tomato soup.

The doctor grimaced. "Don't you dare pervert the perfection of this dish with your bumbling barista bit. It's real cheese or nothing."

Stone put down his sandwich and raised his hands in surrender, then wiped them on his napkin. "Okay, but don't say I didn't warn you." He reached over and took the doctor's still-plastic-wrapped fork and one of his little tubs of salad. "Are you ready for this?"

Robotnik quirked an eyebrow. "The tabbouleh?"

"No."

"Ah, yes, our very special round of twenty questions." He curled his fingers in an angular come-hither. "Brrring it."

"STD's?"

"None, I haven't been intimate with someone in more than ten years, and I already did your panel when you were assigned."

"Feeling lucky, Doctor?"

"Simply standard procedure. I still have files on all of my previous 'assistants' as well. Ask me something you really want to know." They popped their salad lids in-sync, and the doctor started carefully forking the mint-heavy mixture into his wrap.

"Preferred role?"

"I was a professional dom in two-thousand… three through five? I haven't always had G.U.N.'s funding, and it was very profitable during the lean months between contracts. People like 'em mean." Robotnik crossed his legs under the table, dragging the tip of his shoe up the inside of Stone's calf. "Last I checked I was a stone top," he smirked. "And yourself?"

"That's kind of how I got my name, actually."

"Be serious, Agent."

"I am, Doctor." He smiled goofily, a little embarrassed. "I got the nickname when I still thought I was a butch lesbian, and it stuck."

"You are a ridiculous man," Robotnik said with a pleased grin. "Are you still a top?"

"'Last I checked.' Not exclusively." Stone shrugged. "Bottoming has been more fun since I finished transitioning. No dysphoria to struggle through, anymore. Or if there is I've dissected it to the point of inefficacy." He gave the doctor a considering look. "It's been a while for both of us, maybe we can figure it out together?" The agent sounded terribly hopeful, and Robotnik couldn't possibly bring himself to dismiss the idea.

"Well. I do so love a good experiment." He took a bite of his shawarma, chewing and swallowing before speaking, because he had manners. "Gustatory receptor cells regenerate every two weeks, what's to say other things haven't changed."

A lightbulb flickered on in Stone's head. Tastes did change.

Monday, June 18th, 2017

"Agent Rockwell, thank you for meeting with me today."

"Of course, Commander Walters." Her tight smile only barely met her eyes, but the strength of her handshake warmed him. He was glad for her professional indifference, he'd need it today. It was never fun firing someone you had considered a friend.

He passed a manila envelope to her. "I want to promote you, to Director of Human Resources. Some unsavory information on the current lead has recently been brought to my attention, and I no longer feel comfortable with her level of access."

She slid the papers out and glanced over them. Comprehensive evidence of racism, ablism, intimidation, preferential treatment, and abuse of a government position for personal gain. 

"I try to do right by my agents, Rockwell." She nodded. He had always been remarkably kind for a military man. "If you choose to accept this position, I will be entrusting the well-being of thousands to your…" She raised an eyebrow. "Care." She nodded again, she knew her reputation. "I fear there may need to be an inquisition period of sorts. Mrs. Johnson has been with us for five years, and a number of her hiring choices have been called into question."

Rockwell did not need long to consider it. She had met the previous human resources head several times, and had never liked the fake smile she'd been greeted with. It had reminded her of the cruel gazes of those cliquey girls who had sniffed out her neurodivergence like bloodhounds. What this organization needed was someone who enforced the rules. "I accept the promotion, Commander." She raised the papers. "I'd like to get this handled today, if possible, Sir. There's no time like the present."

He smiled warmly at her and stood from his desk to shake her hand. "Thank you, Director Rockwell. I look forward to working more closely with you." He pushed his chair sideways and gestured to the space behind his desk. "Literally, for today. Cheryl— Mrs. Johnson should be in soon. Bring your chair around and we can get this paperwork sorted out."

"Can I ask how this information came to light, Sir?"

"We hit a spot of luck in our staffing last year, acquiring Dr. Robotnik. He's showing initiative in many unexpected ways. He's always had a bad habit of snooping; I figured, if we can't keep him out of our files, he may as well ensure their safety." He sat back down, leaving half the desktop to the new director. "I have him working on digital security at the moment."

Rockwell's lips thinned further. "We'll need to meet with him soon, as well." She'd heard much about the "Mad Doctor," almost none of it good. Although she had to wonder how many rumors were just people telling tales out of school. She'd been the subject of more than her own fair share. Sometimes natural human variance was misinterpreted as malicious, unfeeling or frigid; she'd prefer to make her own assessment before passing judgement.

Friday, June 23rd, 2017

Dr. Robotnik awoke at midnight. He pulled the page on his word-a-day and smiled groggily. It was one of those goofily relevant, guaranteed to be used ones. He shoved his cold toes into his slippers and trudged to the nice but somewhat outdated kitchen in his quarters and started the coffee pot. He made a full twelve cups, knowing they'd be gone before too long. He stood at the counter and stretched while he waited for the percolator to finish, scratching translations and synonyms with a mechanical pencil. It never hurt to be prepared.

He was fifty-five, hopelessly attached, and ready to throw himself into his next mission: trying to survive the day without his dedicated shadow. His little birthday tradition had been interrupted by the Italian job last year, and they'd been too wrapped up in renovating the staff room the year before to even think about it. In fact, the last time he'd been alone for more than twenty-four hours was… The hospital.

A strange feeling crept into his chest, but he sipped his coffee and pushed it down.

It was another weirdly long weekend for them, home tired from expended adrenaline and travel. Stone would likely enjoy his one day off, free from the doctor's needy presence and mercurial moodswings. Robotnik would be spending the day on his own passions, and of course unwillingly psychoanalyzing himself, a project he knew he was long overdue for. After all, he had to understand something before he could control it. Time to loosen the lid on that little box at the back of his mind he kept shoving distractions into.

He touched up his hair dye, shaved, showered, and dressed. So far, so good. He looked at the man in the mirror, clean, precise lines and deliberate styling and clothing choices. The same ones he'd made for fifteen years. Boxy and concealing, or at least they used to be. The long lines of his button-up and lab coat fit closer than they had just a year ago, starting to cling to his frame in a way his clothes hadn't since the comfortable years of his late thirties. New ways, as well. The doctor had never been as "swole" as he was now, and it was strange to note the capacity for change his body still held. Robotnik smoothed his hands down the front of his lab coat, unease creeping in again. Truly, nothing adapted quite like biology. Not yet, anyway. 

••••

Stone ran through his morning routine and rode his motorcycle to the lab. When he tried his watch at the door the reader lit up red, as usual, and played a sad midi trombone noise, less normal. Robotnik's face popped up on the screen of the reader, looking smug. "Tsk tsk, Agent Stone, you know better than to disturb me on my spawniversary! You've been banned from the lab for twenty-four hours. I don't need your obsequious groveling today, thanks for playing." He stuck his tongue out and the screen went black. Stone turned to regard the sunrise, wondering where he was going to get his coffee now. 

He switched his bike for the SUV and drove into the small town where he usually restocked their essentials. There was an independent coffee kiosk inside the grocery store that did a decent cappuccino, and the owner crocheted hats and scarves to sell on the side. They sometimes exchanged patterns on the rare occasion he stopped for a coffee. He needed to pick up some stuff for the lab anyway. He was glad for his internal to-do list, keeping him busy even with the doctor's dismissal. 

It wasn't that Stone was bad with free-time, necessarily, he just preferred to have a purpose. Caring for Robotnik had been that purpose for the last three years, and he hoped it was one he'd have for many more to come. 

He hadn't known today was Robotnik's birthday. It had seemed too personal a question to ask—on par with the doctor's strong feelings around family—which seemed like a foolish thing to think now that the two of them were… whatever they were. What kind of man didn't know his spouse's birthday? But the doctor hadn't volunteered the information before now either.

He stood in the dairy aisle, debating between coconut and whatever the hell "pea milk" was before putting the former in his cart and moving on to the produce section. He spared a glance at the Meyenberg on his way by but ultimately decided against it. The doctor made such a fuss about repeating himself. Stone shouldn't risk it if he wasn't desperate.

••••

"Stone, I—" Robotnik stopped abruptly and groaned at himself, head dropping back to hang out of the bottom of the crab-mech frame. He swore he'd managed to forget and call out for the man every hour on the hour since 06:00. Little asides, questions, things he wanted to show his agent or get his opinion on. 

He hadn't felt this frustrated with his own loneliness since he was a teenager, desperately clinging to the sparing affections of his first shitty, manipulative, too-old-for-him boyfriend. He'd been put away wet and not taken out again until something was needed from him. He'd chased that dynamic for an embarrassingly long time, well into his twenties, not thinking anything else could exist for him. It was a pattern that seemed to reoccur in his life, between lab partners, contracts, lovers, and friends. He'd been used in so many ways, before he got a handle on what was actually good for him. 

Instrumental jazz music played on as he continued running electrical wiring through the vehicle, gentle cymbals soothing and hypnotic tempo easing him back into movement. The wordless music was a method he'd figured out while getting his first two doctorates. Interesting enough to keep him in motion without another person's ideas directing his own. He forcibly focused himself on more pleasant thoughts as the saxophone bleated.

Stone was… Wonderful. Maybe the only person who'd ever just cared for him. Sure, he was being compensated handsomely for his work, but his dedication went far above and beyond the scope of his job title. Robotnik felt some amount of guilt over taking so long to recategorize the man, but in his defense, Stone straddled classifications and trampled over every box the doctor had tried to put him in. Partner was certainly an acceptable description, applicable in many ways. The doctor chuckled, thinking of one fantastical title in particular he may have earned. T'hy'la. Nerdy and derivative, but tantalizingly so, like a bad pun.

"A love supreme, a love supreme, a love supreme..." Damn, he alway forgot to pull that one from the playlist. Oh, well, it would be over soon enough anyway. And it's not like he wasn't already focused on the subject. 

Thinking of Stone had Robotnik's stomach grumbling halfway through the afternoon. He rolled out of the vehicle and dropped to his knees in theatrically absurd despair, pounding his fist against the floor. Another goddamn interruption. He drug himself up to the break room and stood glowering out the window while he ate a bowl of the agent's weird health cereal. It was a beautiful day outside. He glared harder.

He rinsed out his bowl and decided to head up to the roof to smoke. His mood improved slightly after shoving a handful of cherry tomatoes in his mouth while inspecting the greenhouse. Incredibly, there were bees bumbling around the cucumber plants, flitting over the peas. Tiny wonders. 

... Where had they come from?

••••

There is an apis mellifera infestation in the air conditioner unit. We're keeping them.

Stone looked at his watch and thumbs-up reacted to the text with his nose. The agent was cubing watermelon and dumping it handful by handful into a large tupperware. It was a good food to have handy in the warm summer weather, easy to eat and hydrating. He followed that up by hand-mixing blue feta dip, since his stand mixer was also, you guessed it, in the break room. Eventually he ran out of tasks it was possible to do outside of the lab and had to face his studies.

He started sketching some ideas out, brainstorming. Maybe something with lasers? He scribbled across the page, doodling bees and coffee machines and little outfits. No need to stress himself out about the project, he had all the time in the world, as long as you didn't take missions into account.

He hadn't taken a lot of "fun" classes his first time around, too busy trying to speed run his doctorate and deal with the coming-out-fallout to have spared the time. His mother, still grieving her husband five-years-passed, had been unable to hear it. She had blindsided him, accused Stone of chasing his father into his grave, not having his own identity. And he was like his father, but who wasn't? 

The two of them would watch Star Trek together, a way for the man to pass on his morals and bond with his only child when he wasn't deployed. Stone had liked TNG, but something about The Original Series just captured his attention. The over the top acting, the captain-commander relationship, the love and hope that poured from the screen despite—or maybe because of—the questionable execution.

Stone's phone vibrated as he was doodling a little cowboy with a great big mustache, and he received a short video of Numbers floating through the warehouse. He turned up the volume and played it again, hearing a faint, "Forty. Nine," followed by a somehow inquisitive "Ding?" Oh, that just broke his heart. The text that followed it stitched it right back up.

She's not the only one missing you.

The text was followed several minutes later by camera footage of the other badniks decidedly not on their programmed rounds. Stone texted him back with a frown. We really need to fix the security protocols.

••••

The strap on Robotnik's goggles snapped when he adjusted them, sending them flying off his head. "Pete's sake." He picked them up off the floor, carefully inspecting the cracked lens. He tested the worn elastic but it unraveled in his hands, and it was not the first pair that had done this. They were the last of a box he had bulk ordered in 2011, and he knew, had checked, that the company that once produced them had since gone out of business. He dropped the frames on his desk and took a seat. Time to brainstorm. 

Problem numero uno: his preferred goggles were no longer in production. Simple enough fix, manufacture them yourself. However, that did not solve the secondary problem, which was the failure point of the elastic. He hummed and considered the possibilities. Folding arms were right out, he ended up upside down in the chassis of his larger projects far too often to risk losing eye protection to gravity. Laces might get caught in a gear and lead to his unfortunate death by entirely avoidable head squashing. Glue was just plain stupid.

He steepled his fingers, closed his eyes, and returned to the stray thought he'd had last time this occurred. Magnetic goggles. Voluntary human evolution. It would make getting an MRI near impossible, but he wasn't opposed to having some extra protection around his most important organ. Curved metal plates at his temples, under the skin, subtle and practical. Or possibly the whole skull. Taking body modification to the next level.

What else would change once he started, though? He mentally shook the box that had held the thought. It was heavier than expected, filled with years of dismissed wants. Would he lose himself to the siren call of cyborg transcendence? Abandon his plans for world domination in favor of self-improvement? He scoffed. What's the worst that could happen, he gets a little tattoo happy? He was the smartest person on the planet, he could have it all if he put his mind to it. He popped the lid and took a look. 

Shit. That was far more than they had anticipated. Well, the box metaphor had been trite, anyway. Time to start thinking outside of it. 

••••

Stone couldn't sleep. He'd called it an early night at 21:00, but had only tossed and turned since. He just kept thinking about the badniks. What if he suffered a traumatic brain injury that rewired his whole personality? Or they were sent after a target who'd figured out mind control? It wasn't that far-fetched, not anymore. What if, after all this time, it turned out he was a sleeper-agent, just waiting on Walters’ word to kill the doctor?

He loved the sweet way the badniks acted with him, but it scared him, the possibility that, after all his hard work, he could end up hurting Robotnik far more easily than any two-bit assassin. Stone groaned and pulled himself up to start a load of laundry, then returned with his tablet and got to work on Security—Advanced Guidelines.v3. 

Saturday, June 24th, 2017

Stone picked up the phone immediately when the doctor called at midnight. Robotnik's voice sounded small when he ordered, "Come directly to the lab, do not pass go, do not collect $200." He hung up before Stone could speak, and the agent nearly fell out of bed in his hurry to comply. 

Robotnik was standing outside when he pulled up, looking strangely fragile in his pajamas, dressing gown cinched tight around his waist and arms folded. He was sheepish and disgruntled, deep lines under his eyes. He gestured for Stone to follow him—the same motion he used for the badniks—and led the agent silently through the lab, up to his quarters, and into his bedroom. 

The doctor hung his coat on the en-suite door, kicked off his Einstein slippers, and pulled off his gloves, laying them on the nightstand. He flipped back the weighted blanket, revealing the canary yellow handmade one beneath it, then laid down in the middle of the mattress and finally spoke. "Well, get in."

Stone, full of tension, standing in the open doorway, let out a heavy breath. He toed off his boots, then approached and sat on the edge of the bed, one knee folded up to face Robotnik. "Are you okay? I thought there was an emergency." The doctor glared at him beseechingly, whether it was a request not to make him talk or wordless begging for him to just listen to instructions, Stone couldn't parse. He laid down on his back next to Robotnik and stared at the ceiling. "You have to tell me what you're feeling. I can't actually read your mind, Doc." 

"I wish you could, it would make this easier." Robotnik frowned and sighed, turning onto his side, away from the agent. It took him a few moments, and he sounded exhausted when he spoke. "I've been thinking about what you said about performance."

"Sorry, Doctor, which thing?"

"How you knew you were transgender because you felt like you were trapped on-stage…" He trailed off. "I've always been performing. The masks, the roles. I like the performance, Stone. But it's still…"

"Still fake?"

"No. Or yes, but only in the way every interaction is fake. No one can truly know another's mind, can really communicate their own depth of feeling. Language is inherently imperfect, but it's all we have… Well, not all." He was silent for a bit, and when he spoke it was with that same quiet tone as the phone call. "Would you hold me, Stone?" Oh. "I don't want you sleeping supine, you snore like a Peterbuilt." 

"Of course, Doctor." Stone turned and scooched up behind him, then reached down to pull the blankets over them both. The doctor stiffened up as Stone rested his arm over his rib cage and murmured, "We're kind of doing this all out of order, huh?" 

Robotnik laughed and slowly relaxed into his embrace. "Yes, we are. I estimate we'll get around to consummating our marriage by 2022 at the current rate of progress."

Stone tightened his hold, curling around his partner and pressing his forehead to the nape of the doctor's neck. "I think you're worth the wait, Sir." He slid his hand up to rest protectively over Ivo's heart. 

"Mm. Every sweet nothing gets you another year closer." He yawned and settled. "Just so you know."

The agent pressed a kiss to the the doctor's shoulder. "Then I'll sing your praises in the morning."

Robotnik's chuckle was low and throaty. "Oh, I bet you will."

They just breathed together for a bit before Stone asked, "Do you want me to stop calling you 'Sir?'"

"Hmm, no. My problem never lied with the assumed gender, it's with the military."

"But we're—"

"Societal function is not always compatible with personal politics, Stone. That's the whole problem in a nutshell, isn't it?" He hummed and leaned back into Stone's chest. "I'll let you know when something big changes. I'm still working through it."

"Alright. Goodnight, Doctor."

"Go to sleep, Stone." 

Saturday, July 1st, 2017

"I’m just saying, chaos exposure has been linked to faster healing times and other beneficial side effects." An unfamiliar voice echoed off the labs walls, setting Stone on edge as he came down from the kitchen.

"Chaos energy is a hoax!" The doctor was arguing cheerfully with someone, drawing his agent like a moth to flame.

"That’s what the government wants you to think!" Stone rounded a corner and finally caught a look at the interloper.

"You clearly don’t have access to the same files that I do." Robotnik waved off his guest’s rambling, and Stone stepped forward to shake the stranger's hand. He was short, bespectacled, and built like a brick shithouse, a sparse five-day shadow covering his lower jaw and upper lip. His piercings glinted under the LEDs, and he had a second skin of eclectic tattoos. 

"This must be your young gentleman friend! He’s quite the looker, how’d you land him?"

Stone’s grip tightened around the man’s fingers, but he only received a pleased grin and an equally strong handshake in return. "Doctor, who is your… charming guest?" he gritted out.

"Mr. Karna here is the reason I made it through the messy field that is medicine."

"One of us had to!" The man chirped proudly.

"And it certainly wasn’t going to be this lunatic," Robotnik scoffed. "As talented as he is manipulating the human body, his ideas are doomed to marginal footnotes in the march of progress because he still insists on antics like this:" On cue, Karna twitched a pinky and delivered an electric shock to Stone’s palm, causing him to yelp and pull away, shaking his hand out. "All imagination, no substance. Still, I do have to thank him for putting me onto the embedded RFID chip, he was a menace with a magnetic reader. How many times were you kicked off BART for stealing credit card numbers?"

"Oh, far too many to count." The two of them spoke the same way, it was strange to listen to. "I do fairly well in Portland, though. Harder to scam people who don’t have anything to lose."

Robotnik continued, "He’s here to assess the possibility of installing magnets in my cranium. Karna is responsible for many changes I find myself incapable of making on my own, due to various constraints such as being unconscious or, in the far distant past, ignorant of the world’s complexities."

"Oh, you don’t know the half of it." It was unclear whether the statement was meant for Stone or the doctor, an unreadable mania behind his orange-tinted glasses. "Call me an agent of chaos, just don’t call me late to dinner!"

The small group moved upstairs for said meal, the strange man excusing himself to the bathroom beforehand. Stone whispered to Robotnik while he plated their food, concern lacing his voice. "Doctor, are you sure we can trust this guy? He seems… imbalanced."

Robotnik patted his shoulder. "Have some faith in my judgement, Stone. He removed my appendix and wisdom teeth, there’s not many who have been more up close and personal with my gooey insides." 

"Okay, but who the hell is this guy?"

"Oh, he was my dorm mate in med school. A sort of human curio, very big into body modification, if you couldn’t tell from his everything." The doctor sounded remarkably unconcerned. "You did exceptionally well on your MCAT, so we’re going to take you through the basics of surgical assisting and post-operative care. I know you already have emergency response training, but this is going to be significantly more involved."

"Oh." That was a big step, letting Stone handle and protect his unconscious body. "Thank you, Sir."

"For what? You’re the one doing me a favor, keeping this off the books."

"For trusting me."

"How many times will I need to tell you before you believe me?"

"Sorry, Sir." Stone frowned. "What was he talking about when I came down? What is chaos energy?"

Robotnik groaned. "An old, fringe alternative energy source, they gave up on the research in 1975. I had a passing interest in the subject while working on my physics degree, but the expense for first-hand research would have been astronomical, and it never panned out when the government was interested in it’s potential. Karna has been stuck on it forever, despite it being nowhere close to his supposed field of study."

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. "‘Passing’ is an interesting way to describe an obsession that had you in it’s grip for half a decade."

"Shut your mouth, trollop, you haven’t let an idea escape your clutches in thirty years."

"Guilty as charged. Now, what smells so damn delicious?" Karna asked.

"That would be my significant other’s spectacular stir-fry! It’s a staple in these parts, I’ve gotten very into gardening recently."

Stone smiled. "Correction, Doctor, you’ve gotten very into avoiding gardening."

Robotnik flapped a hand. "Semantics. It’s all about efficiency. Besides, you need to know how something works to improve upon it."

"If that ain’t the truth," Karna quipped.

Saturday, July 29th, 2017

Stone started bringing Robotnik their first coffee of the day in bed. The agent didn't sleep there every night, but the two had quickly come to agree on the efficiency of waking in the same place, familiar with a shared morning routine from their extensive business trips. They just woke up in the same bed sometimes. Stone usually rose earlier than the doctor, wrapped tightly in some kind of modified couples-yoga form, and sneakily extracted himself from their sleeping grasp. He brought his own breakfast—usually eggs and toast—with the coffee, placing the plate just within Robotnik's reach in a transparent attempt to get the doctor to "steal" some of it from him. They couldn't say it wasn't effective. 

Weekends were slightly different, Stone's internal clock allowing him to sleep in a few hours longer. Robotnik could work on their tablet, so they had no real complaints about being unable to leave the bed. If they were honest with themself, it was nice not to have the choice. Stone's grip was inescapable, the furthest the doctor was ever able to get was mostly upright, with their agent's face mushed into their side. They imagined this was what cat owners must feel when the little fleabags fell asleep on them.

This morning, however, Robotnik's body woke up before they did. They blinked slowly out of REM sleep, feeling the solid warmth of Stone lying on their chest, his weight pressing them into the mattress, one muscular thigh tucked between their own. They shifted and let out a surprised little hum at the pleasure that radiated from their groin. Must've been a good dream. They wiggled more purposefully, not ashamed in the least. They wanted to take advantage of their bodies' apparent comfort, and they couldn't imagine Stone minding, though he'd probably prefer to participate. Oh, now there was a thought. 

The doctor smoothed their hands down the man's back, pushing the blankets out of the way, before laying a harsh slap on his ass. Stone jolted against them, grip tightening and pushing a groan from Robotnik's lungs. "Goooood morning, Stone." They ran their hands over the man's shoulders, soothing and waking him further.

Their agent stiffened, taking stock of the situation, before relaxing against them. "Morning, Doctor. Something I can help you with?" His voice rumbled with disuse, timbre low and enticing.

Robotnik chuckled and stretched, pressing them closer together. "Yes, I believe there is."

"As you wish."

"You're being remarkably gentlemanly about this."

"I can't exactly get morning-wood, Sir." Stone pushed his thigh higher between the doctor's legs and ground his hips pointedly against their obvious erection.

Not with that attitude. "Mmm, would you like to?" The doctor's palms slid down to grope Stone's ass, encouraging another dirty grind. "I could figure that one—ah—out if you gave me some time to experiment." Stone's movements stuttered momentarily as he gasped against the doctor's collarbone, a dead giveaway. Robotnik twisted their hips, flipping Stone onto his back and grinning down at him. They straddled Stone's lap and slid their fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants.

"Doctor, I—"

"Don't worry, I know what I'm doing." They dragged Stone's pants and boxers down his hips, slowly revealing more warm skin, pubic hair tickling their knuckles. His cock was a very literal work of art, large, but not so much as to be intimidating. An obligate show-er. The doctor slid their fingers deeper into Stone's pants, fondling his balls. They rolled them in their hand, feeling for the texture of the valve through the skin, then started pumping to get Stone erect, humming happily. Their partner looked up at them with adoration, hands coming to rest on the doctor's knees. Robotnik placed their unoccupied hand over Stone's mouth. "Lick." The man obeyed, sloppily covering their palm in saliva. "Nasty boy." They said it with fondness.

Robotnik took their own dick out, sliding forward to align the two before wrapping their wet hand around them both. Stone's fingers crept further up their thighs, twitching with each stroke. "Fuck, that's great, Sir." 

Robotnik smirked at the honorific. "You're going to condition me if you keep using that word in bed, Stone."

The agent laughed. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"I don't reckon that I should be sleepy or horny on the job. Might be a distraction too great to overcome." They tipped forward to brace a hand on Stone's still-clothed chest, starting to rut against his cock.

Stone moaned, back arching up off the mattress. "I— I could save it? Just for us?"

"I am your only superior. The only one worthy of your respect." They tightened their grip, shuddering at the thought. Stone gasped, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the doctor's silk pajama pants. Robotnik leaned down, nuzzling into Stone's neck and nipping sharply. Stone whimpered pathetically at the small bit of pain, hips jumping, and Robotnik grinned. "Oh, you like that, hm?"

"Y-yes, Sir, you're incredible," he panted, hot breaths agains the doctor's ear becoming more strained with each moment. Robotnik pressed a kiss to their sycophant's neck, then bit down, hard. Stone bucked, moan cracking in his throat as he came, twitching hips raising them both off the bed briefly. 

Robotnik sat back up, looking imperiously down their nose at the agent while they stroked their own cock. Stone's hands had crept higher still, gripping their haunches. He looked like an absolute mess. The doctor slid their hand under the edge of Stone's shirt, pushing it further up his torso and eyeing all that delicious chest hair. The mark on his neck was livid. "Pity that'll fade before we can rub it in our coworkers faces." They were getting close, talking themself to the edge. "You're so sexy, and you're all mine."

Stone grinned up at them, besotted. "All yours, Sir, only yours." That smile, that devotion, is what brought them over. They groaned, striping cum over their agent's cock and abdomen. The breath shuddered out of them in the aftermath, little noises catching on their vocal cords. Stone smoothed his hands up the doctor's sides, looking like he'd just received the best gift of his life. 

Robotnik eyed Stone's still hard cock with a considering look, then swiped their wet hand through the cum on his belly and grasped it firmly, pulling a surprised moan from his throat. "What do you say, Stone? Do you want me to convert this manual to an automatic?"

"What?" He struggled to keep his eyes open against the pleasure, lids fluttering as their long fingers worked him over.

"Is something preventing the blood from reaching your brain? Let me dumb it down for you: I want to make you a Robotdik. And we should do it before I get too much more comfortable in this relationship, or I won't want to leave you alone long enough to heal." They pumped Stone's cock expertly, feeling the agent's thighs trembling beneath their own.

"Doctor, c-can I have time to think about it?" 

"No. What are your concerns?" Robotnik tilted their head and gave Stone a condescending look, which, if anything, just brought the man closer to his second orgasm. They rubbed their thumb firmly at the base of his cock, targeting his buried clit.

Stone looked slightly put-upon, but it wasn't like he could be unhappy in the position he'd been put in. "It's convenient." Robotnik raised an eyebrow. "I like that I can choose when it happens." He let out a strained laugh. "I can't make you uncomfortable if I get ah-aroused when you yell at me."

Robotnik stared at him. "You really like me." It wasn't a question, but Stone nodded anyway.

"Of course I do." His hands kneaded their waist tenderly.

The doctor's gaze softened slightly. "… It could be scheduled, or remote controlled, you could turn it off when not in-use. Or you could just suck it up and deal with the shame of your boss knowing you've got the hots for…" Here they stalled too long, the split second debate in their head devolving into an awkward pause. "Her." Stone's eyebrows shot up and the doctor worked their wrist faster to distract him. "I can hear you struggling to think, Stone. Do it out loud." They leaned over their agent intimidatingly.

He shuddered under Robotnik's ministrations. "Is this about—you like having proof? That I like you?" 

"This is about putting the trans in transhumanism, my perceptive pervert. And yes, evidence of your pathetic pining is pleasing to me." They slotted their hand around Stone's neck, thumbing lightly at the bite mark. "Proof you belong to me." They squeezed, and Aban came, back arched, nails digging into Robotnik's sides.

Thursday, August 10th, 2017

"Gentlemen, I'd like you to meet our new HR lead, Director Rockwell." 

"Agent Stone." Her eyes widened almost comically, surprise in her voice. She quickly masked it.

"A— Director Rockwell. Nice to meet you." The agent had clearly been thrown for a loop, and Dr. Robotnik's gaze flickered between the two of them in suspicion before settling on the director.

"Likewise. Please, take a seat, both of you." She clasped her hands on the desk in front of her, calm and composed. "I have some questions we need to go through, and I think it would behoove us all to have this conversation together." She waited until everyone was seated before starting. "First of all, I'd like to ensure the accuracy of the information we have on file. Have the two of you really been married since 2002?" She tried to keep her personal investment in the answer out of her voice.

Robotnik snorted. "No. I placed that document to screw with Cheryl." 

"Are you married?"

Stone spoke, "Yes. It'll be a year in September." He appeared proud of the fact, chest puffed out a little. Definitely compromised, then, she'd seen that look on his face before.

"Dr. Robotnik, are you aware of the nature of your husband's employment?" Rockwell asked.

"I'm afraid I don't follow, Director." 

Stone and Walters made nervous eye contact across the desk.

She didn't check with the commander before clarifying. Better to ask forgiveness than permission. "Agent Stone's placement as your handler while you were a contractor was predicated on his undercover experience. He was sent to you as part of an ongoing espionage operation focused on your work and person." The commander inhaled sharply and started coughing, choking on his own spit. "As a G.U.N. employee, you are owed certain truths about the nature of our operations, and I'd prefer you hear them from us and not while snooping around the servers." She unfolded her hands and slapped one helpfully against Walters' back.

Dr. Robotnik's mustache curled in wicked amusement. "Oh, get it together, Commander. You people have the subtlety of a herd of polka-dotted pachyderms." He spread his hands in front of himself. "Let's lay all our cards on the table. I have been aware of Agent Stone's objectives the whole time, because I have been aware of all of my little helpers' motives from the second they were assigned." The doctor mirrored the director, clapping a hand to Stone's shoulder. "The only reason this little mole rat is still around is because I find him infinitely more useful than his predecessors. You've made him my problem, and I'm keeping him." Stone leaned nearly imperceptibly into his hand.

Director Rockwell raised an eyebrow. "Even though your relationship to him is a fabrication?"

The doctor turned to address his subordinate. "Agent Stone, do you think the new earpieces could function as hearing aids?"

"Yes, Doctor. Why do you ask?" Stone said guilelessly, setting Robotnik up.

"Well, either these people are suffering cochlear degeneration or they're not fucking listening." He faced the desk again, "He. Is. Use. Ful. To. Me. I couldn't give a damn about the motives, what matters are results." He brought his hands together with a loud clap. "Now, where was all this 'director' hooey when Mrs. Johnson was around?"

Walters, having caught his breath again, said, "That's one of the other subjects of this meeting. We're in the beginning phases of restructuring G.U.N. to be self-contained. Your, chm, research has been invaluable in rooting out bad actors, and the solutions to our security you've presented are already showing their worth."

"Of course they are, anything would be an improvement over what the feds consider 'secure' these days." He smirked, but there was genuine pleasure there. He probably didn't receive a lot of positive reinforcement, if records could be trusted.

Rockwell spoke, "And we're ever so grateful for your assistance. I'm sure you'll continue to bring your concerns to the table in the future." 

"In fact, Doctor, I was hoping to put in a work order. You know these old computers don't run as well as they used to. And your work is—"

He waved a hand, interrupting Walters. "Yeah, yeah, state of the art. File the paperwork. Are we done here?"

"Last agenda item, I promise."

Robotnik groaned heavily.

Commander Walters took it in stride. "Considering the quality of your research, versatility of your tech, and your management style, we've decided it would be best to assign you a fixed team. You may extend offers to any G.U.N. personnel you feel would be a good fit. I trust you have a handle on the scope of your job by now, but keep in-mind the varied nature of your work."

Surprise slackened the doctor's furrowed brow. "How many?" His face was still, calculating, eyes a thousand miles away.

"Let's say ten, two full squads," the commander said, and observed Robotnik's frown with some relief. "And you'll need to provide office space on-site." Dark eyes flickered angrily to meet his.

"Oh, and I suppose I'll have to feed and house them, too! I'm not running a daycare, Commander."

"No, Dr. Robotnik, you're running an R&D department. You've been provided a significant amount of freedom under G.U.N.'s wing. I'd like to see what you can do with some structure."

There was a gleam in Robotnik's eye. "I'll need time to prepare, and a higher budget."

The commander sighed, "Naturally, Doctor. What kind of timeline are we looking at?" He'd gotten a lot of practice not rolling his eyes at the man in front of him over the years. All things considered, Robotnik had taken the news well.

"Hmmm, a few months should suffice, no more than six, I would think."

"Six months‽"

"I do have other projects in the pipeline, Commander. G.U.N. is not the only employer so eager for my services," he condescended. 

••••

"Can you believe it, Stone?"

Liar, liar. "You were on fire, Doctor." Stone wobbled as Robotnik threw an arm around her agent's neck and shook him. 

"I know, I'm going to need new pantalonés after that, ha ha!" Robotnik had been getting better at deception. It was far easier to choose which emotions to lean into rather than try to hide them.

Stone subtly steered the doctor down a hallway, away from the bustle of the main corridors. "Come on, stress relief time."

"I'm on top of the world, Stone, what are you talking about? Walters is giving me everything I want on a silver platter!"

"Not for you, for me."

"Do you need me to slap the nervousness out of you?" Robotnik jested.

"Would you?"

Robotnik's eyebrows raised. "Really?"

"I think it might help."

She grinned, mustache curling and emphasizing her sharp cheekbones. "You are a menace." She pulled off her gloves and shoved them in a pocket.

"I'm aware, Sir." Stone stopped in front of a supply closet, checking up and down the hallway before opening the door for the doctor and slipping in behind her. Robotnik turned to him and startled when Stone pressed her against the shelving by the hips. She quickly recovered, skilled fingers undoing the agent's belt and working him up before something seemed to occur to her.

She squinted suspiciously at him, gripping his dick in a vaguely threatening manner. "What was that look you geology club dorks exchanged back there?" 

Stone gave the doctor a sheepish look. "You won't like it." Robotnik's other hand came up to grasp Stone's face tightly, tilting it from side to examine him closely. He felt the blood heating his cheeks. Robotnik raised an eyebrow. "Let's just say I have a type." The agent leaned closer, chest to chest and giving her the big eyes. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"What do you want me to do for you, Sir?" 

"I thought this was for you?"

"Making you feel good makes me feel good." Stone grinned at her and leaned up for a sweet little kiss before dropping to his knees. 

Robotnik was near silent for that first sneaky workplace blowjob, hand clapped over her mouth and eyes squeezed shut. Her harsh breathing filled the small closet, accompanied by the slick sucking of Stone's lips around her cock. The agent tried to keep his happy moans to a minimum, but it got harder to control them when the doctor's fingers started tugging at his hair. He stroked himself to the same rhythm he bobbed his head, sensations wonderfully complimentary. 

Her eyes were still closed, recovering, when she croaked out, "You should move into the lab. We're going to need your place to house the hangers-on." 

Stone, head leaned against her thigh and savoring the taste of her on his tongue, agreed readily. "Yes, Doctor."

Saturday, August 12th, 2017

When Stone was a young man, he had wished he was a robot. He’d built his own PC and wanted his body parts to be as easy to swap out, customizable. He found stories of cyborgs and cyberpunks to be aspirational, the commitment to self-improvement, of repairing yourself and carrying on. So when the doctor had been serious about fulfilling her insane power fantasy, Stone found he had few actual objections.

"So, what do you need from me, Doctor?"

"Besides your undying loyalty and obedience? First we will establish a hormonal baseline. Muy facile, as we have two years of data to work with, thanks to my unimpeachable judgement and record-keeping." She twirled her mustache. "After that, I’m going to put you through a series of tests to determine at what hormone levels you ought to exhibit physical arousal, and if there is a preference of speed at which that happens." 

Stone gave a sly smile. "And what will those tests look like, Doctor?"

Robotnik stepped close and leaned into his space, murmuring in his ear. "Something like this, I’d imagine." She brought her hands up and unbuttoned Stone’s suit jacket, sliding inside and along his ribs. Stone’s breath hitched and he clutched at the doctor’s shoulders. "I’ll touch you, or talk to you," a small beep issued from their watches. "And take note when your levels rise above normal." She grazed her teeth over Stone’s ear, pulling a shiver from him. "Of course I’ll have to monitor you near-constantly, if we’re wanting to collect accurate data."

"Mmm, a real hardship, I’m sure," Stone sighed.

"It will be if we do it right," Robotnik growled and started tugging Stone’s shirt from his pants.

••••

"Boy, you weren’t kidding about getting off on me yelling at you." Robotnik was cross-referencing Stone’s bio-data with old security footage, and it turned out their husband was a good deal hornier and more self-controlled than they could’ve imagined.

"Not at all. You’re very attractive when you’re angry, Sir." Stone’s hands rested on her shoulders, thumbs rubbing little circles against the doctor’s spine. "You get so close, I thought about kissing you constantly the first year." He smiled softly as he watched Robotnik’s neck flush, still unused to such open affection.

On-screen, Past-Robotnik whirled on his Stone and stalked toward him with apparent murder in his eyes. Even knowing he hadn’t struck his assistant, the doctor found themself tense, worried for the man who had become so dear to them. Had they always been so menacing? Had Stone always looked at them like they were the moon and stars? 

They skipped to the next clip. "I’m going to have to put together a ‘Top 10 Most Embarrassing Erections’ compilation at this rate." It was the seventh time his wild flailing during a dance break had induced a reaction in their assistant.

Stone shrugged. "The heart wants what the heart wants, Sir."

Next clip. Robotnik infodumping about isopods. Next clip. Stone making coffee in the break room, hips pressed against the counter. Next clip. Robotnik adjusting Stone’s tie and criticizing his professionalism. Next clip. Stone splayed out on his bed fingering himself. Next clip. Another dance break.

"Wait, what was that?"

Robotnik’s voice went high and squeaky, "Nothing, don’t concern yourself."

"Doctor." Stone leaned over her shoulder and skipped back. "That is not even remotely ’nothing.’ When is this from?"

On-screen, Stone’s back arched and he moaned, "Ivo, please!"

"Sir, were you spying on me?" Their watches beeped.

"If I said no…" The clip ended, only fifteen seconds long.

Stone’s eyes crinkled as he grinned, and Robotnik's mortification retreated in the face of the overwhelming joy he radiated. "I’d say you were missing out."

"You are an absolute freak, Stone."

"Takes one to know one, Doctor."

Tuesday, August 15th, 2017

Robotnik whistled for BRD1. "Here, little bird. Daddy has an upgrade for you." Stone's list of capital-R Rules, designed to keep the doctor safe, really only had one badnik they could be tried out on. They turned it off, then carefully emptied it of ammo and removed the laser unit. This was previously untested ground, and the kind of accident that was likely to happen was one they wouldn't be able to recover from. They switched the guns for the paintball equivalent and called their assistant into the lab. Time for the last test.

"Agent Stone." 

"Doctor?"

"I'm going to slap you for science."

"Yes, Sir." Stone smiled brightly, something lighting up behind his eyes as their watches chirped. 

"And then you're going to slap me." 

Stone furrowed his eyebrows at that, with good reason. Robotnik tended not to react well to being hit, even when they sparred. "I'm guessing this isn't about expanding our sexual horizons, then?"

The doctor smirked, "Negatory, my masochistic majordomo, but I will keep your enthusiasm in mind for later." Stone stood to attention in front of the doctor, waiting patiently for them to initiate the latest experiment they'd thought up. Robotnik rebooted the badnik and shoved a finger in his face. "Two for flinching," they warned. 

The agent nodded and the doctor stepped back, practicing the motion a few times before smacking him, turning Stone's head and sending him stumbling to the side. The doctor waited with bated breath, watching Birdie carefully for signs of aggression. Its camera focused a few times, but no other reaction came.

"Excellent news, Stone! You are once again completely at my mercy!" Robotnik crowed with delight.

"Wonderful, Sir." Stone shook his head and rubbed a hand over his quickly reddening cheek. He stood up straight again, looking up at the doctor with concern in his eyes.

Robotnik took a deep breath and prepared themself. "Try to make it convincing."

The slap echoed loudly in the doctor's ears, more sound than pain, thankfully, and was immediately followed by the whirring of machinery. Robotnik watched as the guns popped open with a slight hiss, pointed at the agent. Stone quickly ducked and covered his head, grimacing as his back was peppered at close range.

The doctor whistled sharply. "Heel!" The fire-rate slowed to a stop, leaving Stone to recover on the floor, splattered with paint. "Very effective, Birdie."

They shut the badnik back down, then leaned over the balcony railing to find one of the other drones on their rounds. At least their agent had the decency to title the file something easy to turn into a name. "Sage!" The three badniks within sight all froze in-place, then the eye of the one nearest them briefly flickered a bright teal before rocketing to their side. The program showed no sign of carried over aggression, simply hovering at head height and observing.

Robotnik turned to watch Stone, who was stripping out of his suit jacket. The agent looked happy with the results, despite the mess. "Incredible job, Doctor. What's up with Roger?"

"He's running SAG3 at the moment. The program is technically free-floating, stored on the whole fleet, but it can only operate a single unit at a time." They eyed the excessive amount of red goo coating Stone's suit jacket. "It's essential this aggressive application doesn't go haywire, wouldn't you say?"

Saturday, August 19th, 2017

"There’s a few different options. First and simplest is modifying your current setup. Minimally invasive, I replace your left testicular prosthetic with a small peristaltic pump and we leave the old one as a backup in case something goes wrong." The doctor leaned in and grinned, dirty and endearing. "Plus I just like getting my hands in your pants. Then theres the option closest to traditional implants." They pulled up an animated schematic, a segmented rod with positional rotation servos inside the length of it. The model went from rigid and straight to limp, curled downward, then back to straight. "Fairly realistic, if not a little boring. Has the same downsides as these things usually do." They still couldn’t ride Stone like a mechanical bull.

"Is the weight going to be an issue?"

"I was debating between using titanium," body-safe, "Or the ceramics I use for the egg-drones," exceptionally lightweight. "I just don’t know how the material would react inside the human body." It had never been a concern before.

Stone nodded. "We could do a small test, implant a plate in my arm or something." He looked back at the doctor. "It sounded like you had a third option?"

"Yes!" Their eyes lit up. "I’ve been working on perfecting nanobots since 2011, and I think this could be a good application for them! They can be programmed to assume specific configurations, so I don’t see why maintaining an erection would be a problem. Well, except for the volume thing, but you are a show-er."

Stone thought over the options, slight frown putting a little line between his eyebrows. "Could we build them first? That way we could test them and approximate how they’d feel under the skin?"

"I knew I liked you for a reason."

•••

The doctors Robotnik stood in the medical lab taking notes on their clipboards, dressed in pristine white lab coats for the sheer theatricality of it all. They carefully observed the raising and lowering of the silicone-wrapped erectile devices. One of them was just powered by the pump, of course, but it was important to have an accurate control, and making it had given them a fun weekend activity.

Stone, normally so steely-eyed and serious, found it difficult to keep from laughing in the face of the image they made standing in front of the automated erections. He couldn’t look at Robotnik, as she would give him a goofy eyebrow wiggle that nearly broke him every time.

"What do you think, Stone? Any preference so far?"

Stone looked down at his notes. He was leaning towards the pump, there was something to be said for familiarity. "Well, I think it’s safe to say the titanium is a no-go." It was too heavy, no way around it. "I like that the pump leaves us with a backup."

"Thought you might, you do like your contingencies." She leaned forward and closely examined the nanobot knob, giving it a scan with her glove. "There are micro-tears in the silicone, not ideal." Build-up of scar tissue was unappealing in a standard phallus, and they doubted Stone’s would take that kind of abuse happily. "Well, the nanobots are out. I’ll find a use-case some other day."

Stone checked the ceramic cored cock, gripping and stroking down the length of it. "I appreciate the firmness of this design, but it might have to be modified further."

"Elaborate."

"It just occurred to me that my current setup has bilateral cylinders. This design would require an amount of restructuring that I don’t think I feel comfortable with."

"I’ll go back to the drawing board, assuming the ceramics aren’t causing you a horrendous allergic reaction." Robotnik turned and grinned at Stone. "Alright, next test: mouth feel. Take your pants off."

"Yes, Sir!"

Saturday, September 2nd, 2017

They took the move slowly, letting Robotnik get used to another person's things in their space. One day, Stone's mugs moved to their kitchen's open shelves, the next there were twice as many black shirts tucked into their closet, the agent's boxes of craft supplies and sewing machine moving to one of the few empty rooms in the doctor's living quarters. They were still firm on their "No Plants In The Lab" rule, but Stone technically wasn't breaking it. They reluctantly allowed the agent to install grow lights in the den, and gradually their home was filled with greenery: small cacti, succulents, pothos vines, and a tall rubber tree in the corner. 

Eventually Stone moved his insultingly inferior electronics in, consoles that he'd taken out of deep storage a month into working for the doctor. His gaming laptop—huge and clunky, fan whirring loudly—was actually a step too far for Robotnik. "I cannot believe you have a computer science degree. This relic looks like it can barely run DOOM."

"I haven't really had time to upgrade it." He patted the lid and looked at the doctor with a fond smile. "You know I have a thing for the older models." Robotnik rolled their eyes and full-palmed Stone's face, pushing him back to the current task: organizing his DVDs.

"Why do you even have all these? We have the world's collected knowledge at our fingertips," they wiggled said fingers.

Stone held up a movie with a big-headed blue alien on the cover. "Entertainment for when I serve my eighty-five life sentences."

The doctor looked at him blankly, not understanding the reference.

"You haven't seen Megamind?"

"No, Stone, I don't make a habit of watching children's films. I am familiar with the reaction jifs, however," they said with a smirk.

Stone's face screwed up. "Okay, one: we have to have a movie night. Two: that cannot actually be how you pronounce gif." Robotnik's shit-eating grin widened, more than happy to antagonize their malewife.

••••

Stone heard sniffling beside him in the dark of their quarters and turned to see Ivo covering her eyes with one hand, reaching blindly for her dinner napkin with the other one. Her mustache was shaking from the trembling of her chin. 

"Are you crying?"

"Fuck off." She cringed away from Stone, further into the arm of the couch.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Hey," Stone tentatively placed a hand on the doctor's knee, reluctant to touch her when she couldn't anticipate it. Robotnik twitched like she wanted to pull back, but settled and blew her nose into the napkin. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, it just all hit a little too close to home." She sniffled again and wiped at her eyes. "Eugh, sentiment."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"As much as I love to pontificate, if I start talking about this I won't shut up for at least three days."

And she didn't. Stone listened patiently as the doctor verbally worked through her analysis over the next week. Not all at once, but chunks would emerge between tasks, points revisited at mealtime, the occasional stray thought before bedding down for the night. The doctor related parts to her own "upbringing" and personal experiences with the carceral system. She had a surprising amount of sympathy for the Metro Man character, expressed admiration for the character designs, and muttered complaints about the fact that several of the inventions featured were blatantly impossible to achieve. It was deeply interesting to Stone, a more traditionally artistic side he rarely saw outside of the blue-sky phase of the design process. Robotnik talked about the rules of storytelling with the same energy Stone had thought she reserved for religion or robotics. Maybe she considered them to be the same thing, acts of creation and all that.

Monday, September 4th, 2017

Robotnik thumbed over the incision site and ridge of the plate implanted in Stone’s forearm. "Against all odds and plausible timelines, everything seems to have healed just fine. More than fine, frankly. Look at this scan." They pointed at the screen, showing a closely magnified view of the layers of organic and synthetic material. "Your nerves are connected to this in a way I hadn’t anticipated." They tapped on the plate. "You feel that?"

"Yes, Doctor."

"You shouldn’t. Describe it for me." They tapped again.

Stone looked perplexed. "It’s feels the same as you tapping any bone. What do you mean I shouldn’t feel it?"

"Your bones are full of nerves, Stone, this is supposedly inert ceramic. This has incredible bioengineering implications, I can only begin to dream of the ways it could be utilized. And I knew the badniks liked being pet, but this gives me reason to think it’s more than just learning pathways giving them rewards for interacting with their creator." They rubbed a hand over their jaw. "I wonder if I could replace your skeleton…"

"Please don’t. I need my bones to make blood."

"Right, right, those pesky biological necessities. But maybe I could brace some of the weaker parts. Add a framework to your spine, perhaps. Armor plating, maybe reinforce those oh-so-dainty ankles of yours…" They hummed, imagination running wild. "I’ll have to contact Karna, see if he’s available to perform more cutting-edge experiments. Do you think you’d be up to being a guinea pig?"

"Am I not already, Doctor?"

"Trick question. Just you wait, you’re about to have the most well-armored spine since Isaac Clarke."

Tuesday, September 12th, 2017

"Look at it, Stone, isn’t it beautiful?" The doctor held up the segmented, white strip of thin plating with prongs along one side, perfectly designed to match her beau’s bones. Flexible connectors radiated off of the upper-middle segments, meant to attach to the ribs and provide some extra support for the contraption, not that it would need it. 

"It’s lovely, Doctor. But I thought today’s session was about the penile prosthetic?"

So she’d gotten a little distracted, sue her. "Yes!" She spun and picked up the silicone replica she’d been toying with and passed it to Stone. "I’ll admit, it gave me a few problems in the design process, the forks did not want to raise synchronously." 

She clicked a button and the fauxllus stiffened in Stone’s hand. He felt over the silicone carefully, assessing the strangely prominent double barrel outline. "… Are you sure they’ll raise correctly every time?" The thought of his penis being ripped in half was viscerally horrifying, and he had the sudden urge to cover his genitals.

"Hm."

"Is that a ‘yes’ hm or a ‘maybe’ hm? Because I love you, but I’m not committing to a maybe hm."

"Hmmm… I’m not so sanguine as I would like to be. I am a fan of your not-so-little friend, I should like to continue our acquaintance as long as possible." 

"I think my dick would also appreciate that."

Sunday, September 24th, 2017

Robotnik woke Stone with a series of loud, obnoxiously bristly kisses across his face. He groaned and laughed, "Good morning, Doctor."

"Good morning, Stone. I have something for you."

"Mm, what's that, Sir?" The agent's lids finally fluttered open and he looked at the doctor, only to cross his eyes, focusing on the small metallic item held in between their fingers. "Holy shit. Is that—"

"An extremely late piece of proprietary jewelry? Yes, Stone." They sat up, now that they could, and took up their partner's hand to slide the ring onto his finger. "Happy anniversary." They kissed Stone's hand, smiling indulgently at the man. The agent brought the ring closer to examine it, and Robotnik slipped the matching ring onto their own finger with a smirk. Stone gasped, left hand curling into a fist as the jewelry pulsed to life, transmitting their heartbeats. 

"Oh, Ivo." He looked close to tears, eyes glittering over his broad smile.

"Too emotional by far, Aban. I'd think you were acting, if I didn't know how much of a sucker you are for traditional romantic overtures." They moved to get out of bed, only to be captured once again by Stone's strong arms around their waist, pulling them down into his lap. "Careful, you're still on the mend."

"Thank you." He kissed the back of their neck. "I didn't get you anything."

"You do enough as it is, Stone. Besides, if you put one more piece of brickabrack in my living quarters I'll be forced to remove you to make room." They patted at Stone's arm and extracted themself from his grasp. "Now go back to sleep, I'll require your attention again in forty minutes or so." It was ludicrously saccharine, but they wanted to make him breakfast in bed. Their agent spent an absurd amount of time taking care of their every need, which was only the proper function of the universe, but. It was starting to weigh on them. Asymmetrical, annoying. Not to mention that it had driven the doctor crazy trying to get him to take a break. Even when medically necessary, Stone was stubbornly resolute in performing his duties, and they'd had to program the badniks to distract him when he tried to do anything too strenuous. 

Robotnik turned on the oven, set a pan to heat on medium, and plopped in some butter. They cracked four eggs into a mixing bowl, added a sploosh of oatmilk, a teaspoon of cinnamon and cardamom, and whisked it with a fork. They sliced up the rest of the loaf of bread Stone had baked on Wednesday and grimaced at the texture of raw egg on their bare fingers as they soaked them. The doctor left the first two pieces to fry while they dug around in the back of the fridge for the little-used bottle of fancy maple syrup.

They flipped the french toast then set coffee to brew. It wouldn't be as good as Stone's morning lattes, but fresh coffee was fresh coffee. They looked around the kitchen, searching for another topping before settling on sliced banana. The doctor transferred the first two slices to a cookie sheet and put it in the oven to keep them warm.

It had been a while since he'd cooked by himself, possibly years. They couldn't keep from helping Stone in the kitchen, the allure of a shared activity too tempting, but he'd fallen off the wagon long before that. It wasn't like he'd meant to stop, but Robotnik had been overwhelmed by the amount of work feeding himself every day had taken on top of his workload. One day without breakfast had turned into a week, had turned into protein bars and energy gels choked down in the name of efficiency. Go too long without eating and hunger turned right back into nausea. Should they have been cooking more now that Stone had fixed the scheduling problems? He had enjoyed it, at one point. They were enjoying it now. Maybe it would be easier to care for himself if he took care of them both. Efficient.

Music had slipped Robotnik's mind, and so their ears just caught the soft padding of Stone's feet across the cold steel floors. "Smells amazing in here, Doc."

"If you ruin my surprise because you couldn't stay still for longer than—" they checked the clock and looked back at the agent, "—twenty-eight minutes, I'm going to fill your good boots with bee-barf."

Stone ignored their threat, a common occurrence, and embraced them from behind. The doctor leaned back into him, relishing the sleep-warmth of his body against their spine. The agent tucked his chin over Robotnik's shoulder and inhaled deeply. "Savory french toast?"

"The only acceptable way to make it. Keeps the syrup from overwhelming it with sweetness." They tilted their head to the side, resting it against Stone's. "I get enough sugar from you as is," they chuckled and elbowed the agent lightly. "Alright, this is the last of them, get off me and get back in bed."

"It's already 10:30, you planning on keeping me there all day, Sir?" Stone squeezed their waist.

"I'll confine you to my cave if I like. When a knight's metal shines so brightly, it's inevitable he'd be added to the dragon's hoard. Now, scoot, sycophant."

Tuesday, October 17th, 2017

Stone had to sleep on his stomach while the stitches up his back healed, but Robotnik wasn’t complaining about the extra weight on them while they snoozed. Waking up with their husband’s firm body between their thighs was more than worth the stiffness in their hips. They’d go back to their normal positioning soon enough, and then it would be their turn. Robotnik would have to invest in some good earplugs. 

The healing had given them time to think, plan more thoroughly for their own enhancements, ideas for special features popping up in the wake of a successful experiment. They smoothed their palms up and down Stone’s spine, glad to know he was just that little bit stronger, little bit safer. "I can’t believe I let myself become so dependent on you," they murmured.

"I need you too."

Robotnik gasped, startled. "Fuck, don’t sneak up on me like that." Stone just chuckled and pressed a sleepy kiss to their chin. The doctor shifted teasingly against him. "Don’t tempt me, Stone, you’re still not up to vigorous exercise. I don’t care how well these miracles of medical science heal, one month is not enough recovery time for major spinal surgery."

Stone sighed heavily and settled against their chest. "How long will it take?"

"You may start lifting over twenty pounds in November at the absolute earliest."

"You aren’t going to have time for your surgery if it takes that long, Ivo. We’re going to be back in the field before you know it." Stone rubbed his face into their pecs, messy beard catching against the fabric of their sleep shirt.

"I'll reschedule our ski trip. And Walters will have to wait for the brats to settle in before he sends us off galavanting again. Though I find it hard to believe he let us get away this long. Still, I can see your point. Let’s just hope our plans continue to line up as neatly as they have been." Robotnik yawned. "Speaking of lining up," they dragged a palm over the back of Stone’s skull, petting where the hair had grown in over the clean incision, and he groaned happily at the scritch of the doctor’s nails. "You’re starting to look a little shaggy, my murderous mutt."

"You wanna take care of that?"

"Obviously not, but I don’t trust your sense of the back of your skull, so I’ll have to do it myself." The complaint was accompanied by a soft look and another tender stroke of his hair, so Stone decided to take the statement with a grain of salt. He would have to find a way to return the favor. Robotnik deserved more than anyone could reasonably give, so Stone would just have to be unreasonable.

Monday, October 23rd, 2017

The doctor was on a tear this month, happily abusing the spare time and funding to run more tests with Stone. She showed off blueprints for something like a compact particle accelerator, rattled through lectures about electromagnetism and the earth's ionosphere, and tweaked the badniks antigravity generator to hell and back. "We neeed… Hm. We need more data." She swiped rapidly through a series of menus, pulling up a diagram of the earth and its satellites.

"There are multiple variables here. One of them is the bond, the other is the energy the bond is giving off. We know this energy is observable, right, Agent? It has a physical effect. What we need to do next is figure out what can be done to capture that energy. Hypothetically, if we develop the right net, we should be able to transmute it into electricity directly, cut out the steam-powered middle man."

Stone excused himself to make the doctor her afternoon coffee. He really was coming to the end of his ideas. That goat milk was looking more and more like an inevitability, though maybe he should try cooking with it first. Better to test a small amount in a dish than to hand Robotnik a full cup of something she might hate.

Today was the day the doctor had marked "goggles" on the calendar, finally fully recovered from the carefully planned surgery that she'd undertaken in July. The agent pocketed a magnet he'd carved for the special occasion and brought Robotnik a pumpkin spice latte, pumpkin purée sweetened with honey from the high-tech hive that had joined their little rooftop garden.

"Thank you, Stone." She sipped the drink, sighing happily as her eyelids slipped shut in caffeinated bliss. Stone moved quickly, placing the painted wooden poppy at her temple and retreating before she could react. 

Robotnik's eyes flew open and she shook her head, but the magnet stayed firmly in place. "Stone, what in the Sam Hill?" She pulled up the camera feed for Birdie and tilted the camera manually. "Oh! Today's the day!" The doctor turned back to Stone with a big grin splitting her face and shoved the latte into his hands. She spun and rushed across the lab to retrieve the goggles she'd manufactured months ago, trading them for the flower. "Voila! I've been so tired of those shitty plastic safety glasses." She skipped speedily back across the lab to use the badnik as a mirror again, sliding the goggles up and down her forehead experimentally. "What do you think, Stone?"

"Very handsome, Sir." They pushed her hair back in a way that Stone found particularly attractive, mussing the strands of Robotnik's precise quaff. Stone gave her a lingering once-over. "Perfection." His face must have been doing something stupid, because the doctor's cheeks were gaining a red tint that usually only came when the agent had been especially generous with his praise. "There's only one problem."

"Like hell there is!"

"They're outclassing your wardrobe, Sir." He'd been thinking while he did the work for his Fashion 101 and History 414 courses, his sketchbooks full of high-concept villain attire. The doctor had a set uniform she liked to live in, which Stone could respect, but it could use an upgrade. And she'd created that wonderful fabric that the agent had been dying to work with. Stone chewed his lip. "Would you let me surprise you?"

"You have a bad habit of doing that already, Stone."

Sunday, October 29th, 2017

The doctor tended to their only patient, checking over his mostly naked body where he lay on the cold exam table in the equally chilly medical lab. He trembled under Robotnik's gaze, pressing into every professionally regulated touch greedily. Stone had healed up nicely from surgery, the free-time they'd needled from Walters was doing them both good. Robotnik finished their main examination and thumbed a nitrile-gloved finger over an old knife wound on the agent's side. "Who was stupid enough to come for you at close range?"

Stone, eyes slightly glassy, elevated heart rate beating against the doctor's ring finger, sat up on his elbows to check. "Sniper, actually. I think we were both surprised." He took a deep breath, fully giving up on the calm attitude he'd been trying to keep himself in. He looked up at his doctor with a slightly crazed gleam in his eye. "How much longer?"

They didn't want their hard work to go to waste, and the agent had been so very patient. He took such good care of his body when he wasn't trying to give Robotnik a coronary. They snapped one of Stone's sock garters and smiled. "Not too long, maybe two more weeks. Just to be safe. And then, bang! We'll be off to the races." The doctor slid their hand up Stone's leg to trace over the lines of his old phallo donor site, scar tissue gone soft over the years. 

"Thank god," the agent groaned and collapsed back to the table.

"You're welcome, Stone." He chuckled breathlessly at the doctor's cheap quip. Robotnik continued their examination, interrogating their agent over the scars they didn't recognize, trailing possessive fingers over his limbs. They circled to the head of the table, giving Stone a brief, goofy spider-man-style kiss. "And this one," Ivo ran their fingertip over the scar on Aban's nose, "Where's this from?"

"Oh," Stone gave them a sheepish smile. "I was seventeen, at an extremely nerdy frat party." His ears were turning red, fascinating. "I got in a fight defending your Ethics in Robotics thesis." 

"You didn't." Robotnik leaned down to hover over the man's flushed face. Stone flattened a hand over his own eyes and grinned. "Stone, I wrote that on LSD, you can't take any of that peace-and-love trash seriously!"

Aban chuckled helplessly, "I was young and naive!"

"How did anyone get ahold of my old papers? I thought I'd wiped them from JSTOR."

"Libraries are such an important resource for our young people…"

Friday, November 17th, 2017

Robotnik and Stone worked separately to install the new computers and displays for the G.U.N. offices. They still talked, keeping each other appraised of the progress they were making. The doctor had the unfortunate privilege of combining Walters’ slot with their monthly 1v1 meeting, but they were busy enough that he wouldn't have to deal with the commander any longer than absolutely necessary.

"All I'm saying is that taxpayer dollars would be more effectively spent if you let me siphon off of—" finger-quotes "'—Space Force's' budget, rather than giving subsidies to fucking Musk of all people. I already have designs for a global satellite network, and unlike that hack, my projects can self-recover and be refurbished as many times as necessary."

"… How long have you had these plans?"

Robotnik thought for a moment. "At least seven years. I've tried submitting my proposal, multiple times, but for some reason the no-name black site scientist isn't considered terribly trustworthy." He shot a pointed look at Walters and continued. "It's enough to make a man consider going corporate." He shuddered.

The commander turned the thought over. Robotnik's pride probably wouldn't let him create anything less than perfect, and Walters had big plans that could end the Space Race for good. "It's not a bad idea…"

"I don't have bad ideas."

Walters snorted. 

"I don't! It's not my fault none of you jackboots have evolved enough to understand my vision!"

Speaking of. "Have you picked out your staffers, yet?" 

"Don't rush me. Very few of your adrenaline junkies meet my criteria." In reality, they had not considered a single candidate. They would drag this break out as long as possible, get as many ducks in a row as they could in the short time he and Stone had left without outside interference. Hell, his own surgery was scheduled for tomorrow. They needed all the time they could get. 

Robotnik hopped off the step-stool and moved it across the room, the ring of monitors around the walls coming together steadily. They didn't know why Walters thought it would be a good idea to cover a room that's purpose was the sharing of classified information in what he had to at least suspect was spyware, but fuck if they were going to fight it. The doctor had bugged them, largely on principle, despite the redundancy inherent in spying on a system he controlled.

"I'd be happy to provide you with a list—"

"Don't strain yourself, I've got it handled."

"Are you sure?"

Robotnik turned to glare at the Commander, hands still occupied running wires between frames. "Consider me unshakably confident. Trust that, if some heretofore completely unseen issue needs your attention, I will make it very clear." Although, now that he'd refused, he was curious who would've been on the list, if only to make sure they never stepped foot in his lab.

Their agent's meeting was running over, so the doctor headed outside to sneak a smoke. Robotnik wrapped their soft red scarf—just starting to go fuzzy with wear—around their neck. The sporadic pattern was still deeply satisfying to poke their fingers through. It kept them warm in multiple ways, the effort Stone had gone through to make it a consistent reminder that someone gave a shit about them.

Gloved fingers traced over the stitches on the bottom row. Hole, stitch, hole, hole, stitch, hole, hole, stitch. They drug their fingers over the solid line between holey rows, thinking of the etymology of technology. Hole, hole, stitch, hole, hole, hole, hole, hole. Technê, art, craft, technique. Hole, stitch, stitch, stitch, hole, stitch, hole, hole. Of course, modern technology would be nothing without the skilled work of textile artists. Those dedicated women who had weaved the core rope memory that made landing on the moon possible. 0, 1, 1, 0, 1, 0, 0, 0.

Wait just one second. That sneaky little fucker. Robotnik yanked the scarf off and examined the rows closely. A computer science degree from 2003. Stone was reasonably intelligent, and a superlative secret agent. Codes—binary code in particular—were well-within the man's wheelhouse. The doctor's fingers tripped over the lines quickly, and they laughed at the bad poetry and terrible pun Stone had painstakingly crocheted for them. Well, I suppose he can't be good at everything.

I thrill to see you pacing there
Your genius beyond compare
No matter what you do
I find I'm hooked on you

Wednesday, December 13th, 2017

Stone and Robotnik spent days going through personnel files and mission reports. They'd skimmed the larger organization, but the doctor was reluctant to bring anyone she hadn't already worked with and vetted into the lab. Luckily, in the years since their dismissal many of the doctor's previous "assistants" had gotten more experience under their belts, becoming impressive agents in their own right.

The doctor snapped her fingers. "Get Malone, as well. She's good in a crisis." She'd been one of the more exciting records, reflecting her number in Robotnik's files. The commander had been getting desperate at the end there, assigning people with actual skill and mental acuity. Stone's combination of brains, experience, and obsessive compassion had simply been the winning ticket.

"She thinks you're a pig, Doctor."

Robotnik waved it off. "So I'll write her an 'apology letter.' It's called lying, Stone." She rubbed the back of her neck. "It's not like I could've known it was rude to ask to inspect it. Or care. Speaking of limb loss, I hesitate to ask what Harrison is up to."

"What number?" Stone started flipping through folders.

"Seventeeeeeen," she groaned.

"Seventeen, seventeen, seven—ah, here we go. Oh." Stone's eyebrows rose as he took in the young man's photo. No mustache, but he might have been a dead ringer for a younger Robotnik if he weren't so ginger. Or wearing an eyepatch.

"Out with it."

"He's a nurse at Walter Reed, designing prosthetics on the side, this is actually sick." He passed the file over eagerly. Robotnik took it with trepidation, but reviewing the record reassured them that their former agent was thriving through his adversity. "Doctor, can I ask…"

"What, Agent?"

"I'm not the first person you tried to train, am I?"

"Am I so transparent?" She sighed. "No. No you are not. I've had a lot of 'sidekicks' over the years, and I have been too eager to trust in the past, I'll admit it. You may have noticed a lack of legacy inherent to my life, Stone. No family, no public work, no children besides the badniks, if you can technically call them that. No one to carry on the Robotnik name, besides yourself, now." She was pensive. "I have been considering, for a long time, what it would take to reach functional immortality." She looked back up at Stone, cracking a weak smile. "What good is a god-emperor if they die in the first century of their reign? That's barely enough time for people to stop complaining."

Stone frowned.

"Who inherits the responsibility of ruling? Keeps their ideas alive? Enforces their vision? Keeps that power vacuum from filling right back up with small-minded power-hungry vermin? Those who claim goodness are too invested in fairness, in their own happiness, to achieve the kind of lasting effect necessary to change the world. Too optimistic, all that faith in humanity. A villain knows their destiny is to be miserable, to struggle, to compromise their ideals in pursuit of their goals. Without the linchpin it all falls apart."

Stone sure hoped moral OCD wasn't contagious. "Doctor, you deserve happiness, too. The world has never been kind to you, why do you insist on running yourself into the ground over it?"

She threw her hands in the air. "Because I have to! Look at it! A million grifters, liars, and thieves insisting they have the answers, burning ozone and fucking up the ocean! It's not like colonizing Mars is remotely realistic, this is the only planet I've got. I have to. I'm the only one who can, Stone." 

He reached out to hold Robotnik's hand and rubbed a thumb firmly over her fabric covered knuckles. "You don't have to be. Let me help, please." He spread his other hand over the folders on the table. "You can delegate. You don't have to do it all by yourself."

The doctor let out a harsh laugh, but her shoulders relaxed incrementally. "Did you find the philosophers stone on one of your missions, Stone? The fountain of youth?" she asked acerbically.

"I wish I had, Doctor. I really do." Stone stared into her eyes, searching for meaning as her shoulders trembled under Atlas' burden. Dr. Robotnik's motives were not novel. Countless people throughout history had thought that, if only they controlled the world, all could be set to rights. No, what was novel was that she might actually be the one person capable of following through.

Monday, December 25th, 2017

Stone pulled the casserole dish out of the oven just as the doctor exited the elevator. The break room smelled amazing, and Robotnik quickly crossed the room to investigate, hiding something behind her back. "What's for dinner, dear?"

Stone smiled at her, the little endearment sending a shiver of happiness through him. "Mac'n'cheese, with a little substitution."

The doctor wrinkled her nose. "What did I say about the fake cheese, Stone?"

"It's real cheese, Doc, just not from a cow. It's gotta rest a few minutes." He gestured to the arm she held behind her. "Did you get caught on the collider shielding again?"

"No." The doctor handed him a one-inch three-ring binder stuffed to bursting with age-yellowed papers. "Merry Christmas. It's one of my unpublished papers. I figured you might find it enjoyable." Stone quickly flipped it open, only to find it was completely illegible. He squinted at the handwritten pages, there were definite patterns, obviously real meaning behind the symbols, but they weren't in a script he was familiar with. "Since you like your little codes so much."

Oh! The scarf! He smiled warmly at her. To think he'd be the only one Robotnik considered worthy of these thoughts was heady. And the puzzle of the code would be a nice treat, as well. "Thank you, Doctor, this means a lot to me." 

"It will mean more once you can read it," she sniffed. "The note at the front is in the final iteration, so it won't match up perfectly with the ancient texts."

"Can I have a hint? What's the topic?"

"Oh, you know, antimatter, chaos theory, etcetera."

"Don't you think some of this might be relevant to your research?"

"Why do you think I'm having you translate it?" She gave an exaggerated shudder. "Don't make me contend with the foolishness of my past self, Stone, he still thought wallet-chains were the height of fashion."

"Well, speaking of fashion," Stone pointed to the flat black garment box across the butcher block with a nervous smile. 

Robotnik pulled the ribbon and lifted the lid, revealing red tissue paper. She raised an eyebrow. "Pretty swanky." It was rather more trouble than Stone usually went to for gift wrapping. The doctor pushed the paper aside and found clean-pressed lines in a familiar shade and material. She lifted the fabric from the box, revealing a long, buttonless coat with a soft collar. Flipping the inside out revealed a subtly striped lining with a sharp red border. She stripped out of her lab coat and thrust it out for Stone to take, then slid the jacket over her broad shoulders. 

The agent looked over the lines of the garment as the doctor ran her hands over the fabric. Robotnik looked at her reflection in the dark window, twisting to watch the panels flare out at the waist. It wasn't quite a princess coat, but the cut was close enough to give a similar silhouette. "No exterior pockets…" 

"You already live out of mine, Sir." Robotnik's smile curled slowly across her face, unable to deny it when her agent practically kept a spare toolbox tucked into his own suit for her convenience. She spread the front panels to check the inside, and Stone gazed lovingly at her, taking in the image he'd made with the long slits, a bird outlined in red. She flew so far over everyone's heads, and he'd wanted to make that sentiment clear.

She rubbed a hand over her jaw, considering the reflection carefully. "Clean, intimidating, a little faschy. Symbolism a toddler could understand…" This was something Stone loved about the doctor, she didn't mince words or capitulate for the sake of others' feelings. Honest feedback, no matter the consequences. It was nice. "I like it, Stone."

Aban let out the breath he'd been holding, grin taking over his face. "Yeah?"

"Yes." Robotnik pushed a sleeve back to check her watch, obviously pleased with the slit that kept the fabric from bunching at her wrists. "Your design choices are immaculate, as per usual."

"Thank you, Sir. I want the others to see you the way I do." Powerful and in-control. "I've got some ideas for your basics, too. Let me get my sketchbook." 

They spent the evening hunched over Stone's designs for once, eating well and enjoying their time together. "Ooh, what are these?" Robotnik leaned forward, running a finger across a spread of technical drawings of robotic hornets, propeller arrangements, and weaponry. 

Stone, a little self-conscious, said, "Just some rough ideas for class. Nothing as impressive as your work, of course, but I'm trying." 

And succeeding, from the look of it. "These show promise, Stone. I look forward to seeing your final draft." 

Sunday, December 31st, 2017

It was the least formal checkup Stone had ever been involved in. Medical tents in Fallujah had higher sanitation standards, not to mention security. Robotnik was half dressed and leaning over the arm of Karna's beatup old couch, bitching back and forth with the surgeon.

"Well, just like I told you—"

Robotnik immediately cut the man off, "You said nothing of the the sort."

"You’re healing very quickly. Almost too quickly, your body was this close to rejecting the damn thing." Karna sounded serious. He turned to Stone. "What have you been dressing the wound with?"

"It’s proprietary," Robotnik grumbled.

"The same ointment the doctor used for my surgery."

"And that feels alright? I don’t have to get you naked too, do I?"

Stone scowled. "No, it’s healed perfectly as far as we can tell."

"Can I put my clothes back on yet?"

"Yeah yeah, get yourself situated, I just need to talk to your handler for a sec." Robotnik scoffed as Karna pulled Stone aside. "He's too skinny."

"I know."

"Like seriously too skinny, even in college he had more meat on his bones than this."

"I know. I'm working on it."

"If he's going to keep going down this road he needs to eat more, his body is healing too quickly for the amount of energy it has stored, which is next to none, so you either need to fatten him up or slow him down." Good fucking luck.

"Are you two done talking about me like I'm not in the room?"

Karna half-turned to yell at Robotnik. "If you took care of yourself this wouldn’t be an issue!"

Stone put a firm hand on Karna’s shoulder, digging his fingers in. "That’s enough. Only one of you has a medical license. The doctor has entrusted me with her health, and I’ll thank you to let me do my job."

They bundled up and departed the man's apartment quickly, the surgeon giving Robotnik an otherwise clean bill of heath. Stone's jaw didn’t unclench until the pair were several blocks away.

Robotnik startled him out of his brooding. "Do you imagine me a damsel, Stone?"

"Sir?"

"You think the dragon let you into it’s castle, and you climbed that wizard’s tower to find it was a cursed princess all along?" Stone didn’t, but it sounded a little like Robotnik might.

"Doctor, he was talking about you like—"

"An animal?"

Stone nodded.

“Newsflash, I’m not an god quite yet, Stone. He was making the exact same argument as you so frequently do.”

"It was about the way he said it."

Robotnik grasped the back of his neck and shook him. "Saying it without a smile doesn’t make it any more demeaning, darling." The inverse statement hung between them, un-uttered. "How about we lighten the mood. It’s New Year’s Eve in the city that keeps it weird, let’s find something fun to do."

Monday, January 1st, 2018

Robotnik extricated herself, already laughing, fishing around in her pocket for something.

"No. Doctor, please, not right now." Both of their cheeks were flushed, and they swayed on the deck of the small boat they were five minutes from committing piracy with.

"Sorry-not-sorry, Stone, tradition demands it!" She finally got the trophy out of her trench coat. At least it was actually made of metal this year. "For my trophy husband," she said with a smug smile. 

"You are such a bastard." Stone reeled her back in by the scarf, pressing desperate kisses to her lips as fireworks continued over the Columbian. 

"Mmm, thanks for reminding me."

[Handwritten note in phonetic secret script]

My Rock,

Aww, you had a crush on me, how embarrassing. Thinking back on the years with what I now know, I'm surprised it didn't occur to me earlier. I still remember the first inkling I got that your feelings for me were more than inevitable admiration. Do you remember, Stone? The first time you killed for me? Your sweet laugh, your perfect smile. I fell for you that first year, too. How could I not?

My love is not for the weak of heart, but you have always been stronger than most. 

—Ivo Robotnik

Friday, January 19th, 2018

Snowflakes fell gently through the crisp alpine air, gracing the shoulders of Stone's down jacket as he tromped around the corner of the lodge in his snowboard boots. He greeted the doctor with his usual enthusiasm, smiling sweetly and passing her the thermos. She made for a pretty picture with the flush spread across her cheeks and nose in the cold air, emphasized by the red of her hat and scarf. Robotnik took the first sip of Stone's latest creation, sniffed, froze, and rebooted for a solid ten seconds. 

"This is not the first time you've made me this latte."

"Uh, no, it isn't." Robotnik leaned in close to her agent, staring at the man like she could procure an MRI of his brain if she only focused hard enough. "You were a guest lecturer in… May?" He scratched pensively at his beard. "Of 2002. I'd been reading your published stuff for a few years, and I had a little hot-for-teacher crush. I think I traded shifts with someone so that I could make it to the last one." He huffed a laugh. "It was my birthday, actually, that's how badly I wanted to be there."

Friday, May 31st, 2002 - Berkeley, California

Aban "Stone" Azar is newly twenty and so close to his doctorate he can taste it. Caffeine is practically his lifeblood at this point, the scent of his fair-trade-coffee-shop job soaked into his clothing. He keeps running his hands over his fresh crew cut, still a little surprised he'd actually done it. He knows Mama will be surprised when he visits, but he couldn't keep looking at the wrong face in the mirror. It's nearing the end of his closing shift when he walks in, wearing a loud floral shirt under a black blazer. Aban lights up. 

"Hi! What can I get you?" 

"Something with honey. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think I've been talking too much." Dr. Robotnik rubs at his throat, then scratches at the five'o'clock shadow giving some definition to his double chin. His mustache is impeccable even up close. Well, closer than half a lecture hall anyway. 

"You do sound a little hoarse. Any allergies I should know about?"

"What, so you can poison me? I think not!" 

What a goofball. Aban smiles wider in response. "How about goat milk? It's a little funky but I'm telling you, I put a dash of cinnamon in there, you're gonna love it." He widens his big brown eyes and looks imploringly at the Doctor. He's been told this expression is his greatest weapon, an unfair advantage for him to have, along with that big brain.

Robotnik allows it, "You're the professional, after all," and Aban gets to work grinding beans and pulling shots. He pours it into a wide mug and serves it with a little smile and a biscotti.

The Doctor takes a glance at the elaborate hearts in the foam of the latte, looking amused, and takes a sip. "Hm." He smacks his lips together loudly.

Aban leans on his palms over the pickup counter, "So? Your assessment?"

"Not bad, but not an experience I think I'll repeat, thank you. It is intriguing though." Another long slurp. "Not bad at all." They make small talk as he finishes his drink. Aban even gets a couple questions about the lecture answered. 

When Robotnik leaves the barista calls out, "Goodnight, Doctor!" for the first time. 

"Goodnight, Miss Azar. I like the haircut!" He points a finger-gun and a wink back at Stone as he walks out the door.

••••

"You were softer, then. Friendlier, I mean."

Robotnik chuckled. "Softer in a multitude of dimensions. We both were. That must've been right before I acquired my first government contract." The War on Terror had changed both their lives in previously inconceivable ways.

"I do wish you would eat more."

"You know how messy bodily functions interfere with the flow state."

Stone slid a hand up the doctor's arm and smiled coyly. "I can think of a few 'messy bodily functions' that you're a fan of."

"Race you to the chateaux? Winner gets to top." She took a slow sip of her latte, waggling her eyebrows.

Stone grabbed his board from where it leaned next to the doctor's skis and tossed it down, stomping into his clicker bindings with speed. "You got it, Sir!" He pointed the nose and took off down the mountain, Robotnik's boisterous laugh fading behind him.

••••

Stone broke away from the kiss, chuckling as he worked his hands under yet another one of the doctor's thermals, pulling it up and over her head, finally freeing her from the many layers she'd donned to make the cold tolerable. The agent pinched the doctor's exposed belly, brow furrowed. "You're still losing weight."

Robotnik rolled her eyes. "It's winter, Stone, do you have any idea how much energy it takes just to keep the body at a functional temperature? Or operate the notoriously large and complex human brain? And mine requires far more than average."

"Good thing you liked the fancy goat milk, then." Stone grinned.

"And what gave you that impression?"

"Maybe the fact that you spent twenty minutes finishing your drink before you followed me?"

"That could have been for any number of reasons," she said airily. The doctor used Stone's toned shoulders for balance as the agent's hands slid down her back and into her leggings, dragging the tight garment down her legs. His hands squeezed Robotnik's ass and she leaned into him, smirking and rocking her hips, pressing their erections together. "Wanting your dick in me, as an example."

"I guess I could worry about filling you up before I feed you up." 

The doctor tried to kiss Stone to shut him up, but her laugh rumbled between them, affectionate and hungry. She settled for biting at his jaw. They finished undressing each other, possessive hands and mouths working over bare skin. The agent pushed Robotnik lightly, and she let herself fall back onto the soft sheets of the excessively well-appointed hotel bed. Stone joined her and manhandled the doctor up onto her hands and knees. His firm grip on Robotnik's bony hips had them breathless. He rubbed soothingly over her thighs, smoothing his hot palms over skin chilled by the hours spent playing in the snow. The doctor shivered as Stone moved his calloused hands up her body, digging into the always-tense muscles of Robotnik's back.

"If I wanted a massage I would've booked one at the spa," she protested through a relieved groan. 

Stone somehow doubted that. "I'm the only person allowed to touch you like this." The only one she permitted so close. He leaned down and kissed up the neat scar on the doctor's spine, hands roving over her torso, fingers coming up to tweak a nipple. He pulled away briefly to fetch the lube, feeling Robotnik's impatient gaze following him. Stone worked a slick finger into her, the other hand coming up to stroke her shaft teasingly, distracting from the stretch. The doctor responded wonderfully under Stone's patient hands, opening up for a second finger quickly. He found her prostate with ease, and the direct stimulation of the gland had her elbows collapsing, thrusting back on his fingers eagerly. 

"Fuck me. Please," Ivo groaned into the pillow at the curl of Stone's fingers, hiding her furiously blushing face. She gasped as he tugged her head up by the hair.

"What was that?" Stone rubbed harder at the doctor's prostate, dragging a desperate moan from her throat. "I can't hear the pretty noises you make when you hide from me." Ivo shuddered as he worked a third finger in, cock leaking into the sheets. 

"Stone, hurry up and fuck me." 

"Well, Sir, when you ask so politely, how could I refuse?" He sounded smug, confident, indulgent. Robotnik let out a low whine as he pulled his fingers out, missing them immediately. She heard the slick sound of Stone lubricating his dick before he pressed the head to the doctor's hole, bracing a hand on her lower back to keep her from shifting too much. "Ready for me?"

"Yes, you—oh!" Robotnik cried out as Stone entered her, spine arching as she pushed back eagerly into the intrusion. "Ohhh, yes." Her partner slowly worked his way deeper, shallow thrusts that nevertheless knocked the air from the doctor's lungs. Stone bottomed out and groaned as Robotnik tightened up around him.

"Look at you. Beautiful." He pulled out halfway and rocked back in, starting a slow, steady rhythm that had the doctor shivering with pleasure, feeling full. They didn't know that they needed it harder when this already felt so goddamn good. "You're magnificent, Doctor." He angled his hips carefully, adjusting until—

"Fuck, right there, Stone!" The agent gripped her waist and started fucking into Robotnik in earnest, the slick clench of her dragging him closer to coming with every minute. She moaned underneath him, the sound of their lovemaking like music to his ears. The doctor braced against the headboard, pushing back into his thrusts. 

Stone reached around and took Robotnik's cock in hand, sure strokes sending her hips stuttering, pulsing around him. He groaned, leaning down to press his chest to her spine, steady rhythm breaking as he came. "I love you," he panted, shuddering as he fucked the doctor through his orgasm. "I love you so much." Robotnik cursed and bucked into his hand, quickly following him over the edge.

Slowly, they caught their breath, Ivo's trembling thighs slipping and depositing her right in her own wet spot. Unwilling to separate just yet, Stone kissed across her shoulders, hips still rocking gently where they were connected. Robotnik keened when her agent slowly pulled out, tipping over to lay on his side and gaze at her. The doctor's eyes were glassy, but they still focused on Stone's own with intensity. She flopped a hand out to pat the side of his face. "Good boy." He beamed with pride and kissed her palm.

Chapter Text

Saturday, January 27th, 2018

They ate a working dinner hunched over the auxiliary corporate contract that Robotnik insisted on drafting, unwilling to open the lab up without heavy legal consequences for betrayal. They were about to have a whole pile of new test subjects, and required a certain level of tractability from them. NDAs, work hours, intellectual property rights, medical research, all was up for negotiation as far as the doctor was concerned. 

Stone's tablet pinged with a new email. "Malone's on board."

"Excellent."

"She says she has one condition for returning to the lab."

They groaned, "What is it?"

"The team gets to unionize." Stone winced. "She already cc'd HR on it. Sorry, Doctor."

They threw their arms in the air. "Thank badness! Rules of engagement!" Stone tilted his head quizzically. Cute. "Much as I hate to admit it, Walters' stupid family thing works. You give the masses a little bit of individualized attention, they feel like they've been listened to, they fall in-line. However, it can be improved upon. Unions, for example, let the group believe they have power over the people in charge. But they'll learn the rules and self-regulate. They will be providing us with incredible amounts of aggregate data, Stone. These are all highly motivated individuals with different wants and needs, but they're willing to hand us a list of things that will keep them happy and complacent under our boot heel. We clear that low bar, we have their allegiance. Suckers." And best of all, Robotnik would get to deal with their problems collectively, rather than arbitrate every little sob story personally.

Stone squinted at Robotnik the same way he did whenever their attitude and actions failed to line up. "Doctor?" 

"Zzt. Zzt." Robotnik engaged their servos, bringing a hand up to their ear.

"Do you hear yourself when you talk?"

"Excuse me? You may need an attitude adjustment, you've been getting significantly more mouthy lately." His eyes narrowed, glaring at Stone.

"You know, you're allowed to do something kind without ulterior motives."

The doctor frowned at his agent. "Stone. I don't do anything without an ulterior motive."

"You bought someone a house as a retirement gift."

"No, I bought her silence."

"You keep upgrading G.U.N.'s medical equipment and body armor."

"So I don't have a heart attack next time Walters decides to send you in without backup."

"Sure." The corner of Stone's mouth briefly turned up before he forced a frown and gestured to the document on his tablet. "And the clause you're putting in the healthcare section?"

"In what world does extensive prosthetic research not benefit me? The eventual replacement of the human form with a robotic equivalent-slash-improvement hinges on the mind's ability to accept it as an extension of the body. They're lab rats, Stone. I don't have to respect their bodily autonomy if they've signed it away." Robotnik spun on his barstool to face his agent. "You of all people should know that I'm a deeply selfish person." He grabbed and squashed Stone's face between his gloved hands, shaking his head back and forth. "The world should be grateful that the things I want are passably beneficial to the general population. They should be thanking their lucky stars that I'm an anarchist. Walters is stupid enough to believe I can be tricked into giving half a fuck about the 'Greater Good'; don't stoop to his level. I'm evil, Stone."

The agent reached up and pulled Robotnik's hands down to rest on his shoulders. "Doctor, there's no such thing as ontological evil. If you're evil, so am I."

"Maybe you are." He looked intently into Stone's eyes. "Have you thought about it, Stone? Rigorously questioned your place in the order of things? Or have you been looking the other way because your sense of self is too tied up in your job?" 

"Have I rigorously questioned my place in the world?" Stone raised an eyebrow.

"Think past your gender! Isn't there some part of you still, that rails against the things your government asks you to do? That knows your contributions to the great leviathan are the mask it wears to call itself just? You would do anything to distract yourself, I've watched you run circles around it."

Aban felt very seen suddenly, like a prey animal that knew it had been spotted. Robotnik's gaze burned where she looked into him, through him. There was a reason he didn't use his teta's first language for work. 

"Face it, Agent. You joined G.U.N. because you thought control was the key to happiness."

"And if I do? Aren't we obligated to reduce harm? To do what we can to keep the world safe?"

"Aren't we? Whose world? And how much hurt do we cause in the meantime?" Robotnik smiled sharp and cruel, nearly a grimace. He traced his thumbs up Stone's throat, pressing gently.

"… Your world, Sir."

"Now you're starting to get it. Intentions mean nothing. We are our actions, Stone, and I am evil." He would continue to be until he had succeeded, was vindicated. He'd show those soft-hearted, disloyal communalists who really walked the talk.

Stone stared at him for a long moment, gaze defiant. "… You are morally grey at worst."

Robotnik growled. "I didn't ask for your opinion, minion. I am stating objective fact. Our industry is war. I'm hardly less responsible for its atrocities because I built the gun instead of pulling the trigger." They'd done both, now. "Take your moral relativism and apply it to someone who cares."

Stone continued to look at him in that infuriatingly compassionate way, patient, like he knew something Robotnik did not. Oh, that simply wouldn't do.

"On your knees, Stone." The agent's pulse picked up, thumping through the doctor's wedding band. When he didn't move quickly enough Robotnik gripped his hair and kicked the barstool out from under him, and Stone's knees hit the bamboo floor with a thud. "I've been very lenient with you the past few months, but I think you need a reminder of just how cruel I can be."

"Yes, Sir," Stone breathed. Robotnik's fingers tightened, pulling harshly at the dark strands as he dragged the man closer. Stone's face met his pelvis at the same time as his hands met the doctor's thighs, eyes fluttering closed with a low moan. He nuzzled his nose along the seam of the doctor's pants with a content expression.

"You are a difficult man to punish appropriately. You take every bit of abuse with unbridled enthusiasm." He tugged the agent's hair again, point made with the needy, open-mouthed noise it pulled from Stone. "I dare say the only punishment I could effectively implement would be equally terrible for myself."

"Sorry, Sir."

"You certainly don't sound sorry, Agent." The feeling of Stone's grin curling against his slacks had his cock stirring in his pants, the man's insistent nuzzling doing little to dissuade his body's reaction. Robotnik pulled Stone's head back and unfastened his pants, pulling himself out and stroking. He bopped his agent in the nose with the glans and had to contain his giggle at the way Stone went cross-eyed. "Are you waiting for an invitation?" 

That was all the permission the agent needed, descending on Robotnik like a man starved. The doctor allowed him to get into a rhythm before he shifted, hooking his knee over Stone's shoulder and dragging him down to the root. The agent's throat constricted around the head of his cock but he didn't struggle, swallowing through his discomfort, eyelashes fluttering.

Robotnik hummed and scooched his half-finished bowl of gnocchi towards himself, not quite done with dinner. He had gotten distracted in his plotting and fallen behind. Stone's hot breath fanned across his pelvis as the man panted through his nose, struggling to contain himself. A low whine issued from his throat and Robotnik chuckled. "Patience, Stone. I have to keep my strength up to discipline you properly. And we wouldn't want our culinary efforts to go to waste." He took his leisurely time eating, stroking Stone's hair and savoring the small, desperate noises he made as he warmed the doctor's cock.

"Do you remember that man in Oslo? The one whose fingers I broke," he pulled harshly. "One," tug, "By," tug, "One?"

Stone moaned a muffled affirmative.

"Or the undercover job in Córdoba? We met her whole family, stayed for dinner. She begged, Stone, and I killed her anyway." He carded his fingers gently through his agent's hair. "Slit her throat and left her body for her kids to find."

Stone swallowed around him, and Robotnik swallowed another bite of pasta.

"Or, my favorite, Poughkeepsie. We went a little overboard, wouldn't you say?" He scratched at Stone's scalp. "You and I both know that torture is unreliable for information gathering. I've seen you interrogate effectively, and that was not it."

Stone's gaze was foggy when Robotnik eventually pulled him off, tears in the corners of his eyes and drool glossing his lips. A glance down the rest of him revealed a suspicious bulge against the zipper of his trousers. "C'mon, vertical, now." Stone stumbled to his feet, one hand steadying himself on the butcher block while the other reached out for the doctor. Robotnik pulled him in and kissed him languidly, nipping at his lips every so often as he slowly undressed his agent. He felt Stone melt against him, moving eagerly as ever into his embrace. 

Robotnik cupped Stone's hard-on and squeezed harshly. "I think—mmm—I think I will desecrate your kitchen as recompense for your risible redemption attempts. Then make you clean it up with your tongue." 

"Oh, fuck yes," Stone moaned, bucking into his touch. He was methodically stripped of his clothing, skin bared under Robotnik's hands and gaze. His well-built physique glowed under the kitchen's warm lighting, tempting the doctor to press his mouth to the planes and dips of his chest. Long fingers dug into the agent's thighs, dragging up the sensitive skin to knead his ass. A single digit slid between his cheeks, pressing cold metal against his slick hole.

"You're still wet?" Stone had ridden him in the twenty-five minutes before the german pancakes came out of the oven for breakfast, ensuring they both worked up an appetite.

"Maybe. Maybe I just wanted to be ready for anything," he said, grinning obnoxiously. Robotnik pressed his gloved finger deeper and gave Stone's asscheek a light swat, feeling him tighten up instinctively.

"My little prepper. I'll have to get you a pretty little plug to wear if that's how you're going to be." He pressed another finger in, scissoring them briefly. Stone's head fell back with another moan, and Robotnik bit at his exposed neck and collarbone. "Ready for me?"

"Always, Sir."

The doctor stood and turned Stone around, bending him over the butcher block. He pressed a hand between Stone's shoulder blades, pinning him to the wood, and had to laugh to himself as he realized it was the perfect height to fuck his assistant over. "How long have you been dreaming about this, солнышко?" He stroked the hand down Stone's spine, biting his lip as the agent arched eagerly into the touch. 

"Feels like forever. Please, Sir, don't make me wait any longer." 

Robotnik chuckled and licked his palm, stroking over his cock, mixing with Stone's own saliva. He leaned over his agent, lining up and pushing into him in one long, slow thrust. He was tight, evidently it had been a number of hours since he had worked himself open. Stone whined low in his throat, bracing himself against the counter. Robotnik gathered Stone's hands and yanked them behind his back. He pulled out and thrust back in, dragging Stone back onto his cock with one hand around his wrists, the other digging into his hip. Each impact of the doctor's pelvis against his ass pulled another breathy moan from the agent.

"Comfortable?" Stone nodded emphatically. Robotnik leaned over him, clothed chest and thighs pressing to Stone's bare skin. He nipped at his agent's ear. "Who's the genius here?"

"Y-you, Sir."

"Who's in charge?"

"You are," he whined.

"Who do you belong to?"

"You! I'm yours, I'm yours—"

Robotnik released Stone's wrists to remove his gloves, watching his agent scramble to grip them himself, only too happy to be restrained. He slid his bare hand over Stone's stomach, pressing on his lower belly, and his next thrusts pushed sharp gasps from the man, voice fraying desperately. "Do you hear yourself? Stone, you're pathetic." The agent whined. "I've got you wrapped around my finger just like you're wrapped around my cock," he punctuated with a thrust. 

Stone clenched down, rocking back against him, and Robotnik gripped his cock tight at the base. "Ah ah ah, not without my permission." Stone shuddered and trembled in his grasp, stammering out apologies as he came. Ah. Right, no mechanical pause button. "Unbelievable. You're usually so good at following directions, Stone, what happened?" The doctor straightened and continued to thrust into his tight heat, nails biting into the flesh of his hips.

Stone fell slack, forehead knocking the butcher block, overwhelmed but not protesting the rough treatment. His lungs heaved for breath as Robotnik used him, nothing more than a hole to fill. He protested weakly when the doctor separated his wrists, pulling his hands back to the counter and entwining their fingers. Robotnik pressed Stone into the wood, mouthing at his shoulder. 

"What am I, Stone?" His agent mumbled something unintelligible. "What was that?" Robotnik dragged his teeth over sensitized skin, heat spreading through his body, sweat sticking his shirt to his spine.

Stone's voice regained some of its earlier steel. "You're mine." 

"Fuck." Robotnik abruptly tensed, hips stuttering and cock twitching as their pleasure crested. They curled against their husband with a groan, coming deep inside him. Stone shivered underneath them, fingers squeezing gently where Robotnik's nails dug into his palms. They slowly, slowly relaxed, slumping full-bodied onto Stone, panting as they rode out the waves into the afterglow. "Not… What I was… Going for."

Stone's silent laughter shook through them.

Wednesday, January 31st, 2018

Robotnik shivered, mostly naked where they stood on the step riser in Stone's sewing room, one door over from the dungeon. They eyed their own lean body in the mirror, tracking the silvery lines of historic stretch marks over their stomach and hips, and the pinker, newer ones over their biceps. A pattern of hickies splayed over their thighs, put there by none other than the tailor himself. "Can you hurry this up? I'm going to die of exposure," they snipped. Perhaps Stone was right, they should consider eating more. Some extra fat wouldn't go amiss in these brisk winter months. Or they could at least turn up the thermostat.

"Patience, Doctor. And close your eyes, I don't want to ruin the surprise. Or do you need the blindfold?" 

They grumbled but listened to Stone's instructions. It did not escape their notice that Stone's caretaking had taken on a distinctly directorial bent. Robotnik ruminated on the way they'd submitted to his influence more and more over the years, surprised at feeling no worse for doing so, despite the departure from their comfort zone. Robotnik had always prided himself on being versatile, but he hadn't meant it quite that way. Stone had them questioning so many aspects of the identity they had thought was set in, well, stone. They had never been so happy. It was incredibly aggravating.

It had seemed only logical to allow the agent his teeny, tiny tastes of control; he knew what Robotnik wanted and would move heaven and earth to get it done. It freed up brainpower for what really mattered: dominating the world. Their plans for the year were extensive, varied, and time consuming; prosthetics fabrication, team exercises, orbital launches, weapons development, murders both sanctioned and not, and, of course, manipulating The Power of Love. 

Stone's voice emitted from directly in front of them, startling the doctor. Curse his silent footsteps. "Alright, pants first. Leg up," Stone instructed. 

"This is absurd." A strange little game of trust that they played. Robotnik reached out and grabbed their sweetheart's shoulders for support, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

"You say that every time." Stone's warm hands wandered over their frame, slipped under the waistband, triple-checking whatever last minute tweaks he'd made to their new garments. The doctor hadn't been permitted to peek all month, not until the adjustments were finished. Of course Stone couldn't simply make-do with measurements or, heaven forfend, a dress form. "Arms up."

Again, Robotnik followed his instructions. "Well it hasn't gotten any less absurd. You treat me like a life-sized barbie doll." 

"Women in STEM: mad scientist edition." 

"Complete with Fran-KEN-stein's monster!" Robotnik's smile crept over their face at the laugh that got from Stone. They felt the familiar stretch of one of their undershirts pulled over their head, mussing their quaff. Stone's fingers carded through their hair, pulling the doctor's dastardly 'do back together. They leaned into the touch, prompting a huff of fond amusement from their partner and earning another soft caress.

"I promise it'll be worth it." Next was the top, one arm at a time, Stone's hands buttoning up the front from mid-thigh to the high neck. Robotnik shivered as his fingers trailed over their sides, pulling seams into alignment. It fit like a glove. Last were the shoes, one at a time with Stone cupping the doctor's calf for stability. Robotnik was surprised at the slight angle when they put the first foot down, and had to adjust their stance. Stone tugged at the hem of their sleeve one last time. "Alright, you can open your eyes, now."

Robotnik did, and inhaled sharply. Stone had done it again, pulling together garments perfectly suited to the doctor's taste. The high band collar, the oil-slick sheen of the dark fabric, and the heels, they were perfect. Black leather chelsea boots with chrome caps on the cowboy heel and pointed toe. Their eyes raked over their own reflection, reveling in being so keenly understood. They reached out and grabbed their husband by the tie, yanking him close, bending to press nose to nose. "Stone, this ensemble is extraordinary." 

"Thank you, Sir. Would you like to see the rest?" He pointed a thumb over his shoulder to the rolling rack against the wall, and Robotnik went to paw through the offerings. The everyday wear their agent had designed were very much like sherwani, well-tailored tunics and simple dresses that hit around mid-thigh, with slim trousers underneath. They were elegant and satisfyingly practical, and it felt good to be wrapped like armor in Stone's labor of love. 

They were going to need it, their life together was about to change drastically once again. It was time to get back to work.

Saturday, February 3rd, 2018

They'd placed a few choice holoscreens around the warehouse, menacing logos with friendly reminders like, "ALWAYS WATCHING" and, "KNOW YOUR RIGHTS: YOU HAVE NONE" illuminating the government mandated labor law posters. They'd had to get two more chairs for the break room table, and buy more dishes, and of course, because nothing with her was easy, expand the greenhouse again. 

"This is the last time, Agent. I refuse to rework this vile vegetable garden again!" Robotnik shouted down from the ladder where she was welding the frame together, breath pluming like smoke in the cold. At least she was thoroughly bundled up, Stone didn't relish the mood she'd be in if her welds were anything less than flawless. Shivering was simply not an option.

Stone looked around the roof, noting the distinct lack of open space. "There's nowhere left to expand to, Doctor." She'd left ten feet on each side, presumably so they could still smoke on the roof, but the tall metal frame of the greenhouse rose well over the height of the elevator box. "This is going to be a lot to handle, even with Scarecrow helping out."

The doctor flipped up her welding helmet and looked down at Stone from on high. "I'm putting a chore wheel in place. Walters wants G.U.N. to be a family so bad, then his sprogs can stand to do some work around the house." 

The doctor had had Stone reach out privately to a carefully chosen two-hands-full of her previous agents. Not all of them responded positively, but the offer included a very generous benefits package, courtesy of Robotnik's new discretionary budget. She left Stone "in charge" of Monday morning orientation, and the group bunched up near the bay doors.

"All of the badniks will begin listening at a whistle, and you may attempt to direct them using their individual designations. That doesn't mean they will listen to commands. Make reasonable requests. If any of you can't remember your first initiation, please find time to request an update from SAT2." The oldest agent raised his hand and Stone pointed at him. "Yes?"

"What is that?" 

Robotnik called over the balcony, "That, Agent Bailler, is the training badnik I created at your suggestion that I 'make a robot do it if I hated teaching so much.'" She gave the short whistle combination to summon Numbers specifically and hung onto the drone as she hopped over the railing. Stone watched her Poppins-esque descent with an overtly fond eye. "Or, technically, her replacement. Thank you for your actionable feedback. You've earned yourself first go of the updated initiation program." She patted the badnik and sent her to lead the agent, coming to loom over Stone's shoulder and backseat manage.

Stone continued, "SAT2 responds to Saati or Numbers." He held up a box. "Please put on a watch before we proceed any further. They're necessary for traversing the lab, since they double as keys, and will keep you from being injured by the heavy machinery. Your first task this week is very simple, we're going to be clearing some of the first floor storage rooms for office space."

••••

The doctor pinched their fingers gingerly, carefully moving crates of supplies to their new storage areas across the warehouse, when they heard Stone clear his throat behind them. They stepped off the DDR-style pad and pushed the VR headset up their forehead, disconnecting from the crane. Stone had brought Robotnik a bowl of apple slices and peanut butter with their afternoon latte. 

They turned and shouted over the railing, "Break time! I don't care what you do, just don't do it in my lab!" A chorus of weak cheers sounded from below as the doctor queued up their jazz playlist.

"Doctor?"

"Yes, Stone?"

"We haven't really talked about whether you wanted to be out. What's your pronoun plan?" 

"Huh. I knew there was something I was forgetting…" They moved to a lab table and Stone set down the refreshments. The doctor dipped an apple slice. It suddenly seemed like a great deal of information to be throwing out there, with all the possible negative consequences weighed heavily against the positives of open self-expression. It held a feeling of danger similar to their fear of being institutionalized. The apple snapped crisply under their teeth. This was the kind of thing that might turn their reputation from "dangerous eccentric" to "unhinged freak" or "psychological tire-fire." As though violent cis men were not already in control of the whole shebang. "This requires a great deal more consideration than I thought it would. Just... keep to 'he' at work, for now." It wasn't ideal by any means, but needs must. "How... Cool is Rockwell?"

"Generally? As a cucumber, Doctor."

"And specifically? Transphobia isn't the reason you split, is it?"

"No, Sir, it was a very gender-affirming breakup." Stone smiled, a little bittersweet. "There were underlying issues, she was very honest with her review." There was something in his tone Robotnik hadn't heard from him before. Old hurt. Intriguing.

••••

"Is it just me or is he way easier to deal with?" Malone asked suspiciously to the group at large.

Agent Kalluk—a cannonball of a man—piped in from another room. "No yeah, he's in a way better mood now that he's getting some on the reg."

Malone was disgusted. "Please, who would even…" 

Agent Wonai—skin nearly as dark as her own—tapped her arm lightly as he passed pulling a u-boat stacked high with cabling spools. "Girl, use your seeing eyes," he joked.

"I've only got the one, and I think it's pretty obvious." Harrison was disturbingly lighthearted for someone who'd been maimed in this very building. He seemed happy to be back, all things considered.

"Well, I say good for him, and if it makes our lives easier, all the better." 

"Shut up, Roberts." 

"What are you in a snit about, Schmidt?"

"This place is a fucking sausage fest, and we're like, an hour from the nearest bar, and I have to bunk with one of you losers."

Wonai walked back in with an empty cart just in-time to razz the ex-frat boy, dapping up Roberts on his way by. "You're just angry you pulled the short straw and got stuck with Ripley's ugly ass instead of Marco." Rodriguez laughed loudly at that.

Agent Geoffreys, dark red hair in a bun, sleeves rolled up distractingly, walked by carrying a heavy stack of boxes. Malone hoped they'd get along, there were a lot of dudes here. The two made knowing eye contact, and Geoffreys smiled and winked at her.

"Seems like there have been a lot of changes in the last few years. Has anyone else seen the break room, yet? And those drones," Bailler sounded impressed, which must have been hard to do for someone with as many years experience as he had. "It's like a whole different world."

Tuesday, February 13th, 2018

Stone entered the mechanic bay to see Agent Bailler backed up against the wall and Robotnik fuming mad, stalking back and forth in front of him. "Open your mouth and tell me you thought it was a good idea to keep secrets from me in my own lab," she growled. Stone quickly crossed the floor and blocked the space between them. 

"Doctor, I'm sure whatever happened can be corrected more effectively without intimidation. Right, Agent?" They had very specific regulations to follow now, Stone needed to deescalate or redirect her anger before this got out of hand.

Robotnik sneered and gestured sharply over Stone's shoulder, hand flying past his ear. "This duplicitous idiot thought he could start a personal project using company property and I wouldn't notice! Our storage room clearly isn't the only thing with a few screws loose!"

Stone's spine stiffened and clicked as he turned abruptly to the agent. "Do you have a death wish, Agent Bailler?"

"No, Sir. But I—" He looked desperately between them, finding no sympathy in either's eyes. "Agent Stone has a whole table of them, I thought—"

Robotnik surged forward, stopped only by Stone's firm arm keeping her too far away to strangle the man. "You thought! Don't make me laugh!" The doctor started pacing again. "Tell me, Agent Bailler, whose lab is this?"

"Y-yours, Sir." 

She growled.

"Doctor!"

"Correct. And what is the name of the company on the letterhead?"

"Robotnik Enterprises?"

"Correct again. Now doesn't it seem appropriate to you that Dr. Robotnik would have his own table in the lab at the very least?" She did not pause in her pacing, and Stone kept his eyes on the agent as confusion furrowed the older man's brow. "Doesn't it, Agent Bailler?"

"Yes, Doctor!"

"If you somehow find it in your minuscule mental faculties to listen half as well as Agent Stone, I might consider allowing you the privilege of dislodging metal shavings from the cleaning bots. Do I make myself clear, Agent Bailler?"

"Yes, Doctor."

"Dismissed. Get out of my sight. I don't want to see hide nor hair of your ugly mug near this building for at least twenty-four hours." The agent rushed from the room, Robotnik's eyes following him with cold intensity before she turned to Stone. "Make sure the rest of the team knows to get permission before even thinking about submitting a project. I don't want them getting any funny little ideas."

Wednesday, February 14th, 2018

"Well fortunately I know this one already listens perfectly well to instructions, despite her disadvantage. If they malfunction we'll know toot-sweet." 

Agent Stone was watching Dr. Robotnik with a soft expression. "I think it's kind of you. Reminds me of the, uh," he made brief eye contact with Agent Geoffreys. "T Incident." 

"This is blatant character-assassination. If you don't stop trying to ruin my reputation I'm going to gag you," Robotnik growled.

"That’s okay, Doctor, I’m very good with my hands." The agent winked.

Geoffreys smirked to herself as she listened to Stone wind his partner up. It was a stupid game they played, only barely work-appropriate, but she could see the utility in it. The field they were in was high-stress, and Robotnik wasn't very good at dealing with… slow learners. Personally she found the rules extremely easy to follow, but that might be because she had them written down. She'd jotted them in shorthand on her first walkthrough several years ago, and they still sat in the front of the notebook she carried everywhere.

Malone was right, Robotnik was easier to work with now, and she was partially to thank for that. Her insistence on unionizing the lab employees was an impressive swing that had paid off tremendously. Cat was personally very glad to have procedures for medical experiments laid out in black and white. She did not want to deal with another swine flu incident. And speaking of medical experiments.

"Agent Geoffreys, remove your hearing aids." She did so and switched her attention to Stone as his hands moved rapidly to cover the doctor's continued instructions. You didn't point out the stupidity of Robotnik's orders, you just complied and hoped he'd accounted for them. "Now, while those are impressively compact for their age, I think I can do you one better." He turned from the workbench and faced her. "The batteries on these bad boys are charged by the naturally occurring electricity of the human body." He held up two little earpieces, one of which had a glowing red bead on its outer side. "This one is standard issue for all agents, and is your team radio. The other is just a hearing aid. Capisce?" He handed them over and she quickly inserted them. "How's it feel?"

"Comfortable, lightweight." She tilted her head. "Left one could stand to be louder."

"Here." Robotnik tapped a few fingers together and pointed to her watch. "You can make some adjustments through the application." She poked around the app, messing with sliders and seeing options for bluetooth and, most importantly, the ability to turn the radio off.

"What do you need from me past this point?"

"Just light notation and bug-reports, Agent. If you have any issues you can't solve with some troubleshooting bring them back to me and we'll make adjustments." She nodded and left the two to their flirting.

Saturday, February 17th, 2018

Here it was, the moment of truth: the inaugural run of the ring drive. Months of research, design, and meticulous fabrication, all leading up to this. They flipped the switches to turn it on, making eye contact with Stone across the ten-foot circle, excitement running through their veins. The grid lines of the reactor shields glowed, lowlighting the two of them in blue and glinting off their goggles.

"Are you ready, Stone?" They smiled at their assistant affectionately, keenly aware that the project would be impossible without him.

"Yes, Doctor."

Deep breath. "Contact in three–two–one–" They placed their hands on the four catalyst points. "Initiate test 001."

Stone's smile grew wider. "You're brilliant, Sir." Nothing. "My favorite part of the day is waking up with you safe in my arms." A tingle in the doctor's fingers, possibly psychosomatic.

"Weak, Stone, you can do better than that, surely." Robotnik nagged, growing more nervous as the stillness continued.

"Why don't you give it a try, Sir?" 

Couldn't hurt, right? "You are an apprentice of the highest caliber." Nothing. Stone snorted. "What! Like you did any better," the doctor grumbled as they thought. They couldn't help that they valued Stone's mind so highly. "I… appreciate all that you do for me. You are. Integral to my happiness." Stronger tingling, a little like frostbite. Stone's face was doing that thing again, the one that turned all his sharp edges soft.

"Ivo." Oh dear. "I love you. More than anything." Suddenly sparks, vibrant and startling, shot through the machine, glowing behind the shields. Hazardous, poisonous, living green.

"Oh ho ho! Would you look at that!" Robotnik stared, enraptured and distracted by the lights that quickly sputtered out. "What the hell?" They smacked an open palm against the contact plate. "Come on, you hunk of junk!"

"It worked!" Their partner sounded surprised.

Robotnik glared at him. "No, it did not. 'Work' would imply a measurable power output. Saying this worked is the equivalent of describing a lightening strike like a municipal power plant." 

Stone came around the ring as Robotnik began the shutdown sequence. "Well it's not nothing, Doctor, just requires a little trial and error."

"My calculations were flawless! They are always flawless. This is a failed experiment." Or at least proof that they were still missing something. "Damn it."

Stone's warm hands made contact with their back, rubbing soothingly. "It's just a temporary setback. And hey! We got some decent data out of it." The doctor supposed he was correct. They leaned back into Stone's embrace, mentally running the numbers again. It should have worked. What had they done wrong?

Friday, March 16th, 2018

Stone discovered Robotnik was not a natural brunette an unbelievable amount of time into their relationship. It wasn't even a carpets not matching the drapes situation; the doctor kept the downstairs well-trimmed for "sensory reasons." No, the realization came near the end of three long weeks on-mission in Russia, the last of which Robotnik spent carefully rationing her tinted mustache wax and wearing a hat. It slipped off her head in their sleep, and Stone woke with his face buried in the doctor's hair, eye to follicle with her auburn roots. Learn something new every day.

Stone shivered a little and pulled the edge of their couples' sleeping bag back up, curling more tightly around Ivo. She still cut her own hair, despite his offers to help and her comfort with his touch. He supposed some habits must be harder to break than others. His brow furrowed with a hypocritical little thought, I wonder how much she's still hiding from me. He doubted she did so on-purpose, not with the way she'd assumed he knew her birthdate. It seemed like every time a layer was peeled back there was a new structural issue for Stone to fix. It was an honor to be so close to her, to be trusted with her insecurities and dreams. Every moment they spent together was a blessing. Stone had thought he was devoted when they married, but it paled in comparison to how he felt now. He'd happily follow her to the ends of the earth, possibly further.

Robotnik made a sweet, sleepy noise as she woke up, slowly stretching, back arched against his chest. "Morning, Stone. Are you ready to throw another country into chaos?"

"Only always." She twisted in his arms to face him, and Stone smiled, besotted. "I didn't know you were a redhead."

Her eyes widened and she frantically freed a hand from his embrace, slapping it to her head. "Fuck, damn it." The smile slipped from Stone's face, replaced by concern.

"Doctor?" Her breathing was picking up speed.

"Shut up." She found her hat on the floor of the tent, dragging it low enough to cover her eyes. "Just shut the fuck up." The reaction was disproportionate, even for her. Stone rubbed a hand over her back, growing more worried as her heart rate failed to lower. He started humming tunelessly, drawing the doctor closer as she hyperventilated.

Robotnik burrowed into his chest, jamming an ear to his rib cage and forcing herself to breathe more deeply. Her hands tangled in his sweater, pulling and kneading at the cable-knit's chunky texture. Stone continued his slow strokes up and down her spine, soothing as much as he could, and eventually she calmed.

"Fucking embarrassing."

"Doctor?" She grunted. "… Do you want to talk about it?"

"God, no." Robotnik tugged at his sweater again, angrily muttering into Stone's pecs. He switched to patting, light percussion knocking something loose. "I fucking hated catholic school. It wasn't prison, but it might as well have been for all the good it did me. Little cliques and no other kids cognizant enough to comprehend their own cruelty. Corporal punishment just for writing with the 'wrong' hand!"

"Oh, Ivo." His heart ached for the doctor.

"Even I'm not so bereft of morals to consider hitting a child." Stone was starting to think too many morals were Robotnik's problem, but they were in agreement in this. She took a few deep breaths, slowly exhaling through her nose. "Sister Mary penguinnn was not a kind woman. One of those people religion is built for and corrupted by, the ones who need a higher power to tell them not to hurt people. Children can be awful, but the adults are always worse. She thought I was soulless, and made sure everyone else knew it, too."

Stone pulled the hat up enough to make eye contact. "She was wrong."

That got a snort from Robotnik. "Obviously. But she's not the only one." She closed her eyes. "I'm so tired, Stone." He wished they could afford to sleep in, "But we have a job to do."

They gathered their equipment, quickly putting the urban campsite away in the early morning light. They carried only daypacks and falsified documents, discretion of the utmost importance. Stone recited the asinine little rhyme that was drilled into every undercover G.U.N. agent's mind, "Pack it in: pack it out. Leave no trace, they're full of doubt." The genius of Robotnik's inventions never ceased to amaze Stone, and the tiny boxes that their tent and sleeping bag folded into were no exception. He shoved them into his backpack next to their rations and pulled out two canned lattes. "Here, doctor."

She popped the top and took a grimacing sip. "Panic attacks: more effective than caffeine." She sniffled, sighed, and spoke. "Alright, let's fucking go, we've got a world leader to dispose of."

Monday, March 18th, 2018

Agent Schmidt's status as a security specialist had him holding down the fort when the doctor and Agent Stone left for whatever Commander Walters put on their plate. It was a cakewalk; the badniks weren't allowed in the field yet, so the building was well-protected when ill-informed assassination attempts were made.

The lab—sorry, RoBoTnIk EnTeRpRiSeS—had turned into a strange hub of military activity. A home base for the agents under the doctor's orders, a control center for directing remote missions, a weapons development haven, and robotic training center. Not training for the bots themselves, of course, training for the agents who would work with them. Dr. Robotnik's drones were  nearing "perfection," whatever that meant. If you asked Frank, it was just another step closer to being out of work. 

Nobody asked him.

Agent Schmidt didn't like noticing, but that was kind of his whole job, so. He saw them. He knew what it looked like when partners were so compatible they were practically the same person. Missed it. The Doctors Robotnik—fucking two of them? Really?—moved at the same time, shifted into formation at the drop of a bolt. Eyes on each others' sixes, even if one of them wasn't on guard duty. It was freaky how quickly Agent Stone responded to the doctor's needs. Sometimes Robotnik called out and the tool he wanted was already on its way. More often than not he didn't say anything at all, just held out a gloved hand expectantly. It was hard to say whether it was spooky or just cohabitation—God knows none of the rest of them had stuck around long enough to slide into the doctor's good graces. Not that it seemed to protect Agent Stone from his wrath. 

Dr. Robotnik's rages were, for lack of a better word, predictable. You could watch the tension ratchet up over the week, his jaw clenching tighter with each small mistake. That was nothing compared to when an actual hard and fast Rule was broken; you could hear the shouting from across the damn warehouse. Despite the doctor's frequent bad moods, his most violent ones seemed to fall squarely on Agent Stone, leaving the rest of the team to retreat gratefully and learn from example.

The rules Stone broke were basic, and Schmidty got the distinct impression that he broke them on purpose. One particularly memorable incident had seen the man on his knees while the doctor circled him menacingly, dismissing the other agents with a barked order to, "Leave! Everybody out! Now!" When it had been deemed safe to return—after a long lunch—Agent Stone had stood on shaky legs next to the doctor, both of them in a good mood that was, Frankly, disturbing.

Saturday, March 24th, 2018

Robotnik leaned against the roof railing, smoking a stale cigarette, breath and smoke streaming from him in the cold night air. He stared out at the forest and debated whether it would be too late to call. What, as if she has get up for work tomorrow? Don't be stupid. The phone rang a few times before it connected, and a bleary voice whispered over the line. 

"Ivo? The hell are you calling me at three a.m. for? I'm an old lady now, I need my beauty sleep."

"Hello, Tina. I thought you should know my 'egg cracked.' I need a consult from an eggspert."

Her tone shifted, immediately more alert. "Well, congrats, honey. Took ya' long enough. What's the issue?"

"I'm stuck on whether to pursue transition. There are a great many problems that doing so could cause me, and it's not as if it's required of me."

"But did you want to? Wait, let me take this on the porch, don't wanna wake up Tish." 

Robotnik thought for a moment. "I fear that if I allow myself to want it, it will become unobtainable." He smirked as he heard the flick of a lighter through his thumb's speaker. 

"Not an excuse when we both know you're more than qualified to mix your own potions." She took a drag, breath whistling over the line. "You're no stranger to negative attention, why is this different?"

"It… Feels different." To quote Stone, "Personal." The fear of exposure was unusual for him, he'd learned to weaponize his past pain like a cudgel to beat others over the head with. But to be known—or worse, misunderstood—in this way, publicly? To be judged for something he needed, rather than something he already was? It was an all-too familiar feeling, chiseled into the monument of his mind young.

"We're friends, aren't we Ivo?"

"I'm literally paying you for these sessions."

"And I told you to stop doing that, I'm not goddamned licensed. What are friends?"

He groaned. "Open, honest, and vulnerable with each other. I suppose we are friends, by that definition."

"Gee, thanks, you sure know how to make a girl feel special. How's Jacky doin'?"

"Excelling. You raised him well."

"You can't give me that credit, it's all his mom."

"Now who's not being honest?" 

"Alright, alright." A pause. "And your loverboy? How's he taking all this?"

Robotnik chuckled. "With a great deal of enthusiasm. I think he'd serve me the world wrapped in tinfoil and gold leaf if he could."

They spent a little more time catching up before Tina cut to the chase. "Which side of the debate do you want me on, Slim?" They'd done this often over the years, after the older woman revealed that she'd been top of the debate team at her high school. She was always quick with an argument, not one to fluster easily.

Robotnik thought it over. If he wanted quality discourse he'd have to give the person who knew more about his plans the anti-transition position. Tina was more concerned with his well-being than he was, at any rate. And he couldn't say that her personal experience in the field wasn't relevant to the discussion. "Pro. Do your worst, Vixen." 

She laughed. "Alright. You're in your fifties, your biological clock is ticking, you have a steady job outa the public eye, and you don't have to worry about conflict with your husband over it. What the hell're you waiting for?" 

Straight to the jugular. "Femininity is frequently punished in my line of work, and I dislike being considered vulnerable. Weak."

"Anyone who'd think that is an idiot. You are the most guarded person I ever met."

"Obviously. But idiots are prone to taking risks without considering the consequences. I'm already a target of disrespect for many of my methods and views, which you are well-aware I am unable to keep to myself."

"All I see is another reason to come out on-purpose. You’re better off planning on it happening than the inevitable public meltdown ya'd have otherwise."

"Hey!"

"You know how you are." She continued, "This isn't the middle of the NIDS crisis, the government reacts better than they used to, even under this asshat."

"Oh yes, excellent tactic: remind me of the first time they scrubbed my name off critical research. Surely that won't invoke the specter of disgraced scientists past." Not to mention the continuous erasure of trans people from history, and subsequent insistence that they had never existed.

"Like you said, you're already a disgrace." Harsh. "Seriously, what are you actually worried about here?"

"I have schemes, agendas! Critically important plans that I cannot have under constant scrutiny! If I pursue this as well it will draw a spotlight directly to me. Walters' nosy ass would be on me like parasites on a feral felis catus…" Wait. Walters would focus on his mental state over operations.

"Ivo, the time will pass anyway. And eventually you will run out of it. I know you got those crazy android dreams, but be realistic. How close are you to that world versus the one you have to live in now?"

"… It feels closer every day." He could have it all. He would.

Tina sighed. "I just want you to be happy. Think about it, please."

"Already done." He could use the attention, keep it on his personal life. The spotlight was blinding, would conceal whatever lay outside it. And he had a very competent stagehand. "Thank you, Tina, this has been the most productive phone call I've had in years."

"Did I win?"

He flicked his cigarette butt off the roof. "Yes, yes, take your meager accolades and let everyone know you outargued the smartest person in the world. Goodnight, tell Latisha I haven't killed her son, yet."

"Will do. Have a good night, Ivo."

Tuesday, March 27th, 2018

Malone shook her head, watching another of her fellow agents try to take Stone one-on-one again. Idiot. Schmidt tried to arm bar Stone from behind and was promptly flipped over the man's head and flat on his back, knocking the air out of him. Robotnik's guard dog looked to be having fun, taking each agent as they picked themselves up off the floor and got back in the fray. They had another five minutes before the round was over, and the agents were starting to slow, thinking more critically about their plan of attack.

She watched Kalluk and Roberts knock knuckles and step up together, and they made it a little longer, harrying the one-man wrecking crew until he stopped playing around, grabbing Kalluk's haymaker and using its momentum to swing him around into his roommate, taking them both to the ground. It was worrying, that one man could deal with ten trained agents, but Agent Stone had always been terrifyingly adept, a black-ops legend.

Dr. Robotnik stood above them on the balcony, watching with barely constrained glee as Stone single-handedly wiped the floor with his subordinates. He looked like a Roman emperor at the Colosseum, passing judgement from his seat box.

Malone had opted for athletic shorts for this exercise, which gave her enough space to fuck with her leg while Ripley and Schmidt distracted Stone. Harrison whispered, "I got your back." She grinned wolfishly and looped an arm around his neck, they took a few spinning steps and he, "Just like dance class," lifted and swung her around. Just like last time, her loosened socket slipped. She jerked her thigh, and her prosthetic leg went flying across the room, kicking Stone in the head from fifteen feet away. He went down hard. 

Robotnik cheered enthusiastically, "Now that's more like it! Malone! Inspired use of your available equipment. Harrison! Is that a feature or a bug?" 

"Yes."

"Eggcellent!" He clapped loudly. "What have we learned today, losers? Teamwork makes the dream work! We're going to turn you ignoramuses into a well-oiled machine by June, so help me Stone." 

Malone walked over—with Jannik’s help—to retrieve her prosthetic, just barely catching Stone’s dazed pun, "Leg-cellent."

Monday, April 2nd, 2018

"Forgive my ignorance, Doctor, but I didn't know you had a medical degree." Harrison was being very polite, likely because Robotnik's fingers were very close to his brain.

"Do you know how ignominious it would be to call myself 'Doctor' without at least knowing first aid? Insane." She snorted. "'Is there a doctor on board?' 'Yes, I have a philosophy degree!' Utterly useless." The beam from Robotnik's finger-flashlight illuminated the inside of the agent's eye socket before she pressed a few buttons and scanned it with the palm of her glove. "Besides, it would be foolish to constrain my unparalleled intellect to only those things closest to my domain. I doubt there's a single branch of science or culture I could not make improvements to. Now," she gestured to the screen next to her. "Take a look at this and let me know if it's anything less-than-perfect."

Harrison gave the 3-D model of the Eye-Spy a twice-over, but found nothing that should cause any problems. "Looks fine to me, Doctor. How long before it works, do you think?"

"Depends on what you mean by 'works.' The machine will be functional as-installed, but your occipital center could take a while before it properly connects the input with your nerves, let alone learns to interpret it." She tapped her fingers against the desk rhythmically. "You're the test case here, Agent Harrison. As such, I need you to keep detailed notes on the experience. If anything goes wrong I want to know about it immediately."

"Alrighty."

"Now let me see that hand…" Robotnik turned over the agent's prosthetic, examining it from every angle and typing rapidly in the air. "What improvements are you looking for?"

"Well, I've already made most of the functional changes myself."

She eyed the scuffs and scratches on the joints. "Clearly. What if you were to dream bigger?"

"I want feeling back if that's possible?" His eyes dropped to where her hand was still twitching in midair, taking notes. "Maybe some cool features like the flashlight or taser? That seems pretty useful."

Robotnik paused, considering, then nodded. "I believe that can be accommodated, Agent Harrison. Anything else?"

Jannik blushed. "My girlfriend would probably say..." The doctor's eyebrows raised. "A vibrator?" 

Robotnik added it to the list, surprised she hadn't thought of it first. 

Wednesday, April 11th, 2018

Shaquan and Marco sipped their coffees and watched the doctors spar, taking mental notes. Stone was pulling his punches, Robotnik was most definitely not, vicious grin plastered over his face as he chased his assistant around the ad hoc ring. They moved quickly, nearly dancing at points when either one caught a limb instead of blocking it. High-tempo electronica thumped through the speakers, only strengthening the comparison, especially when Stone looked so pleased to be captured.

The agents exchanged a knowing look, Rodriguez giving an emphatic eyebrow waggle, and Wonai rolled his eyes. It was kind of cool to see, honestly. It wasn't every day that partners found their perfect match.

Robotnik cackled triumphantly, drawing their attention back to where he'd gotten Stone in a headlock. He was speaking to his agent, inaudible under the music, both of their cheeks red with exertion. Stone retorted with a sharp smile before hauling the doctor over his head. Robotnik hit the ground, but had grabbed the back of the agent's pants, dragging Stone with him and bringing the fight to the floor. It was getting heated, and not necessarily in a way that was violent.

Shaquan looked over at Rodriguez and silently mouthed drift compatible.

"You're such a nerd, dude."

Monday, April 22nd, 2018 

The plans for the mobile lab had needed a little tweaking, some details still wonky from when they were initially handling the burnout. The reduced mental function seemed much more obvious in hindsight, now that Robotniks' efficiency was at an all-time-high. Their hands, gloved, their eyes protected, black coveralls and steel-toed boots. They welded the frame together, they ran wiring and placed tool panels, they set up the projectors for the holoscreens, they installed the desk and articulated swivel chair. They installed quick-deploy charging racks for the badniks and converted the cab of the semi tractor into a camper. They slept on top of each other anyway, so the small space didn't bother them.

"Doctor Robotnik?"

"What, Agent Rodriguez?" They responded with two mouths, and all three startled. Robotnik swayed with the vertigo of suddenly feeling somehow alone in their own body, background music going eerie. Stone pulled his goggles down to hang around his neck, eyes wide as he stared at the doctor.

Marco's gaze flipped between the two rapidly. "Uh, you have a call from Commander Walters. He said it was scheduled."

Robotnik didn't reply, mind running faster than the speed of sound, and Stone said, "Thank you, Agent. I've got it from here." Marco nodded and headed back to the office. Stone turned back to the doctor. "I'm sorry, Sir, I shouldn't have—"

"Did you feel that, Stone?" Their voices sounded far away even to their own ears, echoey. Stone stepped closer and pushed the doctor's goggles up, concern creasing his brow. "Perfect synchronization," they muttered.

"Are you alright, Doctor?" He waved his hand in front of Robotnik's face, growing more worried as the doctor failed to focus, just staring into the middle distance. "You're zoning out again. I'm just gonna…" Stone gently took their hand, pressing a few buttons and curling their fingers to make the sign for phone and holding it up to his face. "Agent Stone speaking, Commander Walters."

"…"

"The doctor is in the middle of a delicate stage of the bombnik build and can't be interrupted. Can I take a message?"

"…"

"Yes, Commander. I'll let Dr. Robotnik know." He pressed the end call button, and the doctor's fingers twitched. "Alright, let's get you off your feet." Stone guided them carefully back to sit at the mobile lab's desk. He took their face between his hands, angling it upwards, brushing his thumbs over their cheeks. "Come on, Ivo." Robotnik inhaled sharply, blinking forcefully, and reached out to grab Stone's waist, dragging him closer. "O-okay, alright, I've got you." 

The doctor tugged him down into their lap, his weight and proximity a comfort. They stared up at their agent, their henchman, their partner, their other half. "It was a. Humming. Did you feel that?"

"I'm sorry, Doctor, I don't know what you mean. Are you dizzy? Headache?"

Robotnik scowled. Nothing concrete. "No." They were already drafting experiments in their head. They could not put off research on this particular phenomena any longer.

Friday, April 27th, 2018

"There's fucking background radiation!" Robotnik's anguished shout echoed across the warehouse, alerting the badniks, the agents, and Stone to her frustration. He quickly made his way to her side, and the doctor started gesturing wildly at the readout panels in front of her. "Look at this!" 

Stone observed the familiar waveform, scratching pensively at his beard. "Yes, Doctor?" Robotnik groaned and pulled up another screen with a timestamp from five minutes previous. 

"Here." She pointed dramatically. "Before your entrance overpowered the damn thing." 

Oh, there it was. "So… Multiple sources?"

"Disconnected ones. This frequency is consistent in every test I've done, steady." She pointed to another wave. "This one has an amplifying effect on that frequency, but only when you're near. Ergo—" Robotnik lifted a hand and spoke into her glove. "Whoever is falling in love needs to quit that right the fuck now, or I'm including you in the experiment." 

Dr. Robotnik's voice blasted out of the speaker system in the offices, startling Malone and Geoffreys. They separated from each other, string of saliva snapping between their mouths, and Cat's forehead fell to rest on Monica’s shoulder as she giggled.

"What's the third one?" It looked like a faint version of the strong waveform currently displayed in real-time.

"I can only assume it's us. I can't believe I didn't prepare for this." The doctor had always been exceptional, so of course their connection had to have been as well. An oversight on their part, to assume other organisms would be incapable of producing a similar output. "I cannot account for the first frequency, Stone, but look closely." She pulled up readings going all the way back to last February. "If I use the other two I can isolate it, like so."

Stone watched carefully. "That's incredible, Doctor." He leaned in, squinting. "It's getting stronger over time?"

"Consistently, Stone. I wish I had older data, or even just measurements from before you wiggled in here like heartworm. It's affected by the bond and the… POL" Robotnik sighed and rubbed their tired eyes, hoping the data would resolve into something less complicated. No such luck. If love, or whatever, wasn't a power source, then where was the energy coming from? And what did it mean that it was separate from their quantum bond? "As with most things, greater understanding brings only more questions. This may be a whole new branch of physics we're only just discovering. Or rediscovering; Tesla certainly had a lot to say on the subject of vibrations and ambient energy."

"At least we know why the ring drive didn't activate, now." Only one of these forces was consistently strong enough to work as a power source. 

"Retrieve the lesbians, it's time for them to earn their overtime."

"Right away, Doctor."

Malone was not pleased to be interrupted a second time.

Tuesday, May 1st, 2018

"It's over, Dr. Robotnik! Give up, we already took out your drones!"

"Well, you know what they say. If you want something done right…"

Stone sprinted out from a cross street, dipped and grabbed his partner, and kept running. Robotnik grunted as the agent's shoulder dug into her middle and splayed an arm down Stone's back, jamming a hand into her bodyguard's back pocket to stabilize them. Stone gripped the doctor's legs tightly to his chest, it wouldn't do to drop one of G.U.N.'s most valuable assets. 

Loud, offended shouting followed their retreat as the team realized what had happened. The doctor laughed breathlessly, "Perfect timing, Agent Stone."

"Can you reach my holster, Sir?" The energizer bunny of a man sounded like he was taking a brisk walk, not running while carrying a grown adult. 

Robotnik focused on getting a hand under his jacket, sliding up the agents warm side until she hit leather. "Yes!" She pulled the weapon from it and looked up, aiming carefully for their pursuers. They only had so much ammo. She popped one of them right in the chest, sending them shaking and tumbling to the ground and tripping two of the others.

Stone turned a corner and kept running, only moving faster as they got a little cover, darting through complicated back-alleys. Robotnik carefully reloaded the taser and attempted to whistle to coordinate the badniks. Stone's steps were just bouncy enough to wreck her breath control, and the doctor let out a frustrated splutter before going limp and focusing on her powerglove's screen.

"Stone?"

"Doc?"

"Find some real cover, four of the girls should still be up and running."

"Yessir."

Stone darted into a building and launched himself up the stairs, making it up two flights before setting the doctor back on her feet. They rushed through the building, headed for the top floor. A pause for the doctor to pull up the map and redirect the badniks, two to the roof, two to guard the entrance, and they kept moving. They burst onto the blacktop, legs burning, and gulped in the fresh air. Stone could hear vague shouting from the ground below, and wrapped a fist in the back of Robotnik's jacket as she leaned over the edge.

"Look at them, Stone, like ants milling around down there."

"Yes, Doctor. Now please step back from the ledge." He tugged gently, and she turned into his arms, grinning and flushed. 

"Alright, escape plan: Brute and Birdie wait off the side, and we make a dramatic last stand before falling over the edge into their capable claws."

"I don't know how safe that is."

"We'll be fiiine, quit yer bitchin'." Two error notes pinged from her watch in quick succession, and she grimaced. "Unless you have a better plan, Agent? I believe our only exit has just been cut off." Stone checked his pockets for more spare cartridges, but came up empty.

"No, Doctor." He grimaced.

"Don't you trust me, cariño?" she simpered.

"With my life, Sir."

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and rubbed their noses together. "Do you want to be my meat shield, Stone? I've been meaning to broach the subject of electrostim. Or is it too weird to include the ducklings in our foreplay?" 

"Let's revisit that one later." Stone embraced her tightly, prepared to do anything she asked of him. Including, apparently, jumping off the high roof with no safety harness. The things he did for love.

Malone burst through the roof access door, taser in hand pointed squarely at the doctor. "Dead end, asshole." The rest of the team followed her out, arranging themselves in a semicircle around the Robotniks.

"Time's up! I'd commend your efforts, but I still don't think you've truly grasped who you're up against."

"Shut it, Doctor. You're completely surrounded, there's nowhere else for you to run. Surrender now and we won't have to risk you cracking your head open on the pavement."

Stone shut his eyes and buried his face in the doctor's shoulder. Robotnik laughed and pulled Stone with her onto the roof's ledge. "I wouldn't be so sure of that, Agent. Besides," she glanced over the edge then back to Malone, giving her the crazy eyes. "That sounds like a risk I'm willing to take." Stone inhaled sharply as they tipped sideways, grip on the doctor tightening as they free-fell.

They jerked to a stop in the arms of the badniks, swinging alarmingly in the vine-like cradle. 

"Never doubt me again, Stone." He did not loosen his grip.

Friday, May 11th, 2018

Rockwell rubbed her knuckles firmly into her temples, encroaching migraine not helped by the situation Agent Handel's squad was at the center of. Who would have thought organizing a sexy charity calendar could be this much of a headache?

"—ay here and keep watch while I exercise my rights." The knob to Rockwell's office turned and Robotnik peaked his head around the door. "Knock knock! Madame Director, may I borrow a moment of your time?" 

Laying it on a little thick. Rockwell raised her eyebrows quizzically. "Dr. Robotnik. Do we have a meeting scheduled?" They did not. The department did have an "open door" policy, but it did not extend to her office. 

"No, nothing so formal." He entered and commandeered a chair, crossing one leg over the other. "Can I cut to the chase?"

"Please do, Doctor."

"I am something like a woman, and I intend to start exhibiting symptoms." Rockwell blinked. "I need reassurance that any backlash following sartorial shifts going forward will be dealt with in a manner befitting our organization's policies and procedures." His—her?—their tone was steady, practiced. "I do not suffer fools, Director Rockwell. If this department does not back me up I will be taking matters into my own manicured mitts." Their gaze was challenging, direct. "This is not a prank, publicity stunt, or power move, outside of the fact that my natural superiority renders everything I do a power move."

Rockwell's gaze flicked over the doctor, catching briefly on their heeled boots. She took a deep breath, and a leap of faith. "Then let's discuss our plan of attack. Just us girls." 

The tension leaked from Robotnik, a satisfied smile replacing the defensive glower they'd entered with. "Just us girls."

••••

She practically skipped through the rest of the day. Stone basked in the radioactive glow of the doctor's happiness, proud grin stretched over his face. They were making their way to their dinner reservations, then back to the hotel afterwards for a rare Friday nightcap. They had plans to stay the night, drinks either celebratory or funereal depending on how Rockwell and her conversation had gone.

Stone logged the motion first, just in time to have Robotnik on the ground with her head covered by her jacket. Gunshots rang across the plaza, sending the general populace into panic, but the agent was already on the move, pistol out and aimed at the shooter's leg. One shot took him down and then Stone was on top of him, cracking the butt of his pistol across the man's cheekbone. He removed the gun from the man's hand, who bit out a curse in Russian.

"Иди на хер, отвали от меня!"

Stone hit him again, then twisted to put another bullet in his leg. The Ruski howled, and Stone slapped a hand over his mouth, muffling his screams. "Продолжай плакать, долбоёба, Может быть, дьявол пожалеет тебя. Not me though." Stone pressed his pistol to the man's shoulder and put a hole through it. He got bitten for his trouble, but that's what antiseptic was for.

"Stone." The agent put another bullet in the man's shoulder. "Stone, that's enough!"

"You're absolutely right, Doctor, as always. Невелика потеря." Stone jammed the gun under the man's chin and pulled the trigger.

"What the hell has gotten into you, Agent?"

Stone fished the man's ID badge from his ruined suit jacket. "The ambassador's teeth, Doctor. He recognized you."

"Well, it's not my fault I have the world's third most iconic mustache!"

Stone climbed to his feet. "... Charlie Chaplin."

"That's just the first mustache again."

"Vincent Price. Freddie Mercury. Steve Harvey." Robotnik cracked a smile at that, and Stone gave her a once over, checking for injuries. "Sorry, Doctor, I got carried away."

"New rule: if they're not on the 'Okay To Kill' list, perchance we try exerting a little self-control."

Stone's eyes shuttered, flicking to the corpse with a sneer. "We'll see. I can't make any promises, Sir."

Robotnik's hand flew up, fingers digging into his cheeks as she dragged him to meet her gaze. "You will control yourself, Agent Stone. This corpse was very briefly a bargaining chip, and I don't appreciate losing access to a valuable asset."

"Yesh, Doctor." 

Her hand slid down to rest on his clavicle as she surveyed the area. "We're a fair distance from the consulate…"

"Might've been looking for us. We should be more careful next time. Wear masks, maybe."

"Not exactly a common sight in this poor excuse for a country." Robotnik scowled.

Stone checked his watch. "We may have to cancel our dinner plans. I know you wanted to celebrate…"

"Nonsense, Stone. If I stopped going out to eat just because someone wanted me dead starvation would have gotten to me long before you did." She looked down at the body and sighed through her teeth. "Call them anyway, see if they can slide the reservation back an hour or so. Walters is just going to love this."

Monday, May 21st, 2018 — Issue NO. 200

RE WEEKLY 

[photo of egg shaped satellite with red light taken from ISS][photo credit: Ricky Arnold]

From the desk of Dr. Ivo G. Robotnik

“Happy” Monday! It is another centennial, which means you lucky SOBs get another issue of my drunken periodical!

In accordance to the schedule covered in the last publication, this weekend saw the launch of Robotnik Enterprise’s first orbital satellite. This program is part of an ongoing collaboration with Space Force, and has been a long time coming. Launch occurred at 10:03 (AM, for the plebeians) and went off without a hitch. Next launch is scheduled for July 3rd, following thorough stress testing of the Sat-egg-lite 01.

In less astronomical news, the standards and practices for civilian proximal missions have been updated. This is in response to the unfortunate incident involving the late ambassador, Rest In Pieces. Every field agent will be receiving a taser and are required to complete deescalation training by August 15th at the latest. Don’t come crying to me, this comes direct from Commander Walters. All complaints can be made directly to his office, who will care equally as little, but will be more polite about it.

All my worst,

Dr. Ivo Robotnik [all pronouns]

P.S.—My darling husband’s birthday is NEXT THURSDAY and if everyone is not clapping with a carrot cake on the table at the security meeting I am BLOWING THE WHOLE BUILDING UP.