Archive of Our Own

DR. ROBOTNIK:

It had been a Monday like any other. So far. The morning had begun too early for Robotnik, as mornings so often did. Having been roused by a spontaneous idea how to make the isolation sheet in his latest drone draft even thinner, he had heaved himself into his lab at ten past five. There, he had been modelling until the arrival of his diligent agent.

Stone had pulled him from his trance by the smell of his morning coffee.

And breakfast.

Then he had turned his focus to repairing his mysteriously broken 3D-printer and found out that maybe, he should not have ignored the uncanny smell of smouldering cable. Apparently, current 3D-printers were not made to run for a week non-stop. Pah! He really would have to construct a proper one himself.

Thankfully, he still had his other two printers that picked up the slack and his project's deadline remained unthreatened.

He was sat at his workbench, bent over the innards of his patient, clipping cables, exchanging them, soldering new ones in place, drinking his second coffee - when the landline on his desk rang. Momentarily confused, he looked up, blinked and watched as his agent came over to take the call.

Shrugging because he couldn't be bothered about whatever inane nonsense would now be handled by his trusted assistant, he returned his focus to the circuit board before him.

"Sir?"

For fuck's sake! "WHAT?"

"I think you need to take this call yourself."

"What? Is it the one security clearance you lack?", Robotnik barked roughly but put his gun down and came over, dusting his gloves off the sides of his overall-pants. Pushing into Stone's space, with a pointedly raised eye-brow at his henchman's very belated withdrawal, he took the proffered phone and growled into the receiver - watching his barnacle blush and turn away. "Dr. Robotnik."

The next few minutes were filled with such utter nonsense that it must have left a very unusual expression on his face because Stone somehow gravitated back over towards him - his worrying mother-hen face in full force. His brows were doing that annoying thing that made the doctor unable to look at him.

"Sir...?"

Okay.

Enough.

Robotnik slammed the receiver back onto the station and inhaled very slowly, very deeply.

"Sir?", Stone was close. "Was that really the New Jersey State Prison?"

"Purportedly."

"You don't believe it?"

"Oh come on, Stone! Why would some backwater state prison call me? And at home. I bet you this was one of the old fuckers from Walters' golf posse. Trying to taunt me with my orphanhood."

"How so, doctor?"

"That joker on the phone was trying to sell me some long-lost grandfather having just been released from decades of incarceration."

His agent's mother-hen-frown melted into full-on agent-mode: "Should I send them a gift-basket, sir?"

Robotnik pondered that for a few moments but ultimately waved the offer aside: "Bah! Forget it. We've got more important things to do."

"As you say, doctor."

Unfortunately, the prank-calls did not cease. That same jokester kept trying to reach him until Robotnik lost his patience and blocked the number on his phone. Then followed blessed silence - at least for a while. Noon came and went. Stone brought him lunch and otherwise scuttled around him doing whatever he did when Robotnik was busy in his lab.

Nearly an hour later, general Walters contacted him on his smartphone.

"WHAT, WALTERS! I am busy! Busy with YOUR deadline! Make it brief."

"Ivo", came the nonplussed response, "I just had the oddest call from the New Jersey State Prison."

"OH GIVE ME A BIG FAT BREAK!"

"They said, they've been trying to reach you but-!"

"Don't make me hang up on you, old man."

"Why are you ignoring them?"

"Because I'm not in the mood for your infantile jokes, Walters!"

"Ivo", the man repeated slowly, almost gently, "That is not a joke. Your grandfather is being released from his sentence. They want you to come and pick him up."

Robotnik stared. And stared. And stared. Then he blinked.

WHAT THE HELL?

"Walters, I am hanging up."

"NO! Ivo! I am not joking!", the general cried, "Professor Gerald Robotnik was imprisoned some fifty years ago for causing the destruction of government property costing several billion dollars. And thirty-four lives."

"What."

"I am surprised he is still alive", Walters was mumbling, more to himself than to Robotnik, "He was old back then. He must be ancient now."

"Walters."

"Ivo?"

"I have a living relative?"

"Yes, Ivo."

"And no one bothered to tell me until now?"

"It had been a classified matter", Walters said as if that were an excusable thing.

"A grandfather. Who is still alive."

"Yes."

"Do you think me that gullible, Walters?"

The general sighed deeply: "Ivo, please. Just go there, pick him up and you'll see it for yourself."

"What the hell would I even do with the old geezer?"

"He's your grandfather", Walters said in what he himself probably considered 'soft encouragement'. "Your chance at having the family you've always been missing."

Robotnik had to bite down on his tongue. Hard. Or else he would possibly lose very well-funded employment with the government.

Slowly, he hung up. With no further words.

After several long minutes staring into empty air, trying to sort through his racing thoughts, he stood straight and called: "STONE!"

He heard his agent hurrying through the house, coming down the stairs from the upper floor and back into the lab. "Sir?", he called as soon as he stepped through the security doors.

"We're going to Trenton."

"Was it not a prank-call, doctor?"

"That is still undecided but at this point I'm going to have to find out."

"I'll prepare the limousine, sir."

*

PROF. ROBOTNIK:

It could probably be considered 'sad' that after almost fifty years in prison all that Prof. Gerald Robotnik had to his name was a pile of moth-bitten clothes too small in size to fit him any longer. The clerk responsible for his release had pushed the little stack - freshly laundered and pressed and folded - toward him and had also, magnanimously, pointed to a second stack with provisional civilian clothes that would actually fit him. A gift for good behaviour and maybe the countless times he had accepted government contracts to work on during his incarceration. A cheap exchange, mind you.

The clothes fit. Even if the ensemble was a travesty to look at and could not have cost more than sixty dollars in total.

Still. It was an important change from the prison garb he had been wearing for the past five decades.

Nothing more to his name.

Oh, aside from a long-lost grandson who, he had been assured, was on his way to pick him up.

Gerald had mixed feelings about that.

His last grandchild had died under his watch.

He could only hope this one would... persist.

His memory of Ivo was very fuzzy. The boy had still been in his nappies when first evidence of his brilliance had begun to shine through and he had thus been promptly seized by the government. Gerald had not objected. For one: the boy had deserved the best chances to nurture his nascent genius and Gerald had not had the time. And second: the other Robotnik child had been in worse need of his help.

Maria had not been born with their brilliance. She had needed a normal life.

At which he had failed. So utterly failed.

So, Ivo might have been the lucky one after all.

He was a bit curious to see what had become of that little runt.

From what he had been told his grandson had, indeed, become a masterful engineer and was working as a contractor to the USA government.

Gerald supposed he should be a bit proud.

Even if said government had imprisoned him for basically half a century.

Water under the bridges.

He would look forward.

He would have preferred to see the world burn but Maria had always sternly reprimanded him to keep his temper in check. He could envision her tiny figure, fists stemmed into her waist, glaring at him for being a 'grump'. No, she would have much preferred to see him be reunited with the last living family member and live a 'happy' life.

Difficult but doable. He hoped.

Maybe he could even show the kid a new trick or two! They could 'bond'!

He was certainly willing to try.

The man that stood waiting for him on the other side of the parking lot before the prison building looked a lot less inclined, though. In fact, he looked mightily pissed.

Ha! A true Robotnik that one!

He was tall. And well kept. His moustache was a bit... small, but points for effort. Nice clothes but unfit for lab-work. What would the boy do with that satiny suit and overlong jacket? Not practical at all.

He could already see that one could do with his help.

"You must be my long-lost grandson Ivo Robotnik", he drawled jovially, "It is nice to finally meet you."

"Doctor Ivo Robotnik", the boy growled after good ol' Robotnik fashion, "and I certainly can't say the same. Who are you?"

Gerald had expected resistance, no worries. He grinned, feeling a bit more proud, and puffed out his belly: "I am your grandfather, son! My name is professor Gerald Robotnik."

He watched as one expressive eyebrow climbed sceptically higher and higher on the boy's forehead.

"I was incarcerated for-!"

"Yeah, I know that", Ivo interrupted testily, "What I want to know is why I only find out about your existence now and how that should make me believe any of this nonsense."

"Do you need proof? I am willing and prepared to offer that", Gerald hinted at an inviting bow, "I even encourage your scepticism. It is, after all, the scientific method."

The kid snorted unattractively then: "The only proof that would possibly convince me is DNA. Right now all I can do is trust some decrepit general's word. Are you continent or do I have to put down a towel? I don't want you soiling my car."

Oh~, a charmer, that one.

"I'll manage", Gerald grinned.

"Sir!"

Huh?

A short man of obviously Arab descent had stepped beside his grandson - a paper-tray with two coffees in hand. He was dressed sharply, all black, and could not have looked MORE like a government agent if he had been holding up a sign proclaiming just that.

Gerald's expression morphed into blatant displeasure.

GUN agent!

He's had enough of those to last him a life-time!

"I found a coffee shop but sadly, no Austrian goats milk", the desert mongrel explained, addressing solely his grandson.

Ivo grunted, shrugged and accepted his to-go cup anyway.

"Who's the stiff shirt, son?", Gerald asked with not-at-all concealed distaste.

"My personal slave. Now get in the car. I have a schedule to meet."

"Slavery is back?", Gerald boggled because he had both not expected that and simultaneously wasn't surprised.

"For me it is. Get. In. The. Car."

The desert boy opened the backseat passenger door and stood patiently to the side. At this point Gerald figured that his grandson was having one over on him. He would let it slide, for now. But he would get to the bottom of this! Why would his grandson be followed around by a desert-bunny government ankle shackle? Those agents were not to be trusted.

The limousine rolled into motion - fully on its own! - once he and Ivo were sat in the back, with the spy seated in the front-seat passenger spot.

"Can he talk? Our language, I mean", he whispered in Ivo's direction, subtly leaning toward him.

"Not with you."

"And he's a GUN agent?"

"He's MY agent. Shut up."

And for the moment Gerald yielded. They had time. He was sure. Ivo had obviously been taken by surprise by the sudden emergence of a mysterious grandfather. The boy needed to process this relatable shock.

This shock, though, seemed to persist for the coming two weeks without even the slightest abating in temper or mood.

But, one thing after another: his grandson's home was an over-designed monstrosity of angular lines, giant glass panes and every technological gimmick known to man. Or that man specifically. Of course the home of a master of robotics would offer a row of... functions.

It was surrounded by a yard so large it was strictly speaking a park. Gerald had no idea how his grandson had acquired so much land at the outskirts of Washington DC... Must have been his connection to the government.

That stupid house, though, looked like futuristic cubes stacked on top of each other. 'Modern architecture', pah! What had happened to architectural values? Where was the wood? And proper stones? And the classic roof?

It was like stepping into a mad-man's shoebox.

The inside was... passable. High ceilings. A lot of light.

To his initial amusement Gerald was confined to the ground-floor level. There was a guest room he was permitted to call his own - "For now!". He could access the kitchen. And a guest bathroom. And the living room. And terrace.

Ivo's lab lay in the basement and was strictly off limits to him.

The bedrooms and secondary living spaces were upstairs and equally forbidden.

And to his complete bafflement: the agent seemed to be living up there too!

Why? Why would the fetter be living with his grandson?

Was he under such strict supervision that the government had put its spy directly into his home?

Understanding came slowly but like an avalanche: there was more to this arrangement than first met the eye.

Gerald nearly boggled when he noticed that the agent was basically throwing his grandson's entire household. He took care of everything. All so that Ivo could focus on his work.

Mmmh.

It didn't really explain all the hearts on the coffee though...

Whenever possible, Gerald kept pelting his grandson with questions: "Have you noticed the 'art' on your coffee-foam, son?"

"Huh?"

"The hearts! There are hearts on your coffees!"

"So?"

"Why does that agent adore you so?"

"My inescapable charm. Now get lost! I need to work!"

"And he's... doing your laundry?"

"Who else is going to do it?"

"Aren't you married, son?"

"GET LOST, OLD MAN!"

"He cooks for you every day. I've gone grocery shopping with him and you are constantly on his mind."

"Yeah, old man, that's what an 'assistant' usually does."

"No, not really, son."

"Isn't there some bingo group you could attend? I'm sure Stone would drive you there. Anytime. Right now, if you'd like."

Gerald had mastered the 'internet' during his time in prison. He knew how to 'google' stuff. And he knew of 'forums' where people could discuss various topics. Faced with his grandson's peculiar situation, he was familiarising himself with the possibility of Ivo having chosen an 'alternative lifestyle'.

An entirely new concept to Gerald. But he was dead-set on making an effort.

If his grandson wanted the gay-boy then he would get used to it.

And apparently, it wasn't even a big deal any longer.

Gerald felt more than stupefied that the homosexuals could even get married nowadays!

Wonders over wonders! And how fortuitous for his grandson.

But.

Putting aside Ivo living with a man, and even ignoring said man being a damn GUN agent, how could a grandfather acquire grandchildren with that... inefficacious configuration?

First and foremost, of course, his idiot of a grandson needed to get his head our of his arse and properly commit because from what Gerald had been able to observe: the gay-boy was absolutely head-over-heels in love with Ivo and Ivo harboured obvious tender feelings for him as well yet NOTHING WAS HAPPENING.

Why?

Was his brilliant grandson an idiot after all?

An idiot-savant?

He would certainly not have been the first of his kind.

Second: If those two finally committed to each other, Gerald could begin to test the waters by careful interrogation. Apparently, if the world wide web could be trusted, there was the possibility of adoption. Yes! Even for the homosexuals! What a wild time.

Previously, he would have had his doubts about the concept but his grandson was a genius and that doe-eyed agent was a veritable hausfrau, so. The stars were aligning.

And for full disclosure: He had had several 'but it is a bloke!' moments during his first two weeks when observation showed just how much his grandson cared for that fairy agent. When he was still trying to wrap his head around Ivo's sexual orientation. It had required a bit of getting used to, seeing his grandson sometimes standing just a bit too close, or speaking just a bit too low, smiling a bit too softly - and then on the other end, witnessing the spy blushing like a sheltered maiden.

After those first two weeks, Gerald even began to believe his grandson when he kept saying the gay-boy was his agent and not GUN's.

It definitely looked like it...

So, in the end, he decided if Ivo wanted to live with that boy then Gerald would give them his blessing - if he could get a (great-)grandchild out of it.

So.

He needed to get these two idiots to finally commit and then see to acquiring a child for Gerald.

It was the inherent purpose of all grandparents to be surrounded by grandchildren to spoil them rotten.

And Gerald would make sure that he would be granted his right.

Two steps. Should be easy.

Unfortunately, it was not.

Because his grandson was a stubborn mule:

"You should take him out, son. The gay-boy, I mean. Your agent."

"I assuredly won't. I spent far too much effort in shaping him to my will. Also, he makes my coffee just how I like it."

"I mean, ask him out."

"Why?"

"He's looking at you like you hung the moon and the stars."

"Nonsense. He always looks like that."

A very stupid, stubborn mule.

The pinnacle of this bizarre comedy happened after those first two weeks, on an early Friday afternoon:

Ivo had been locked away in his lab since early morning. The agent had been doing household chores. And then, barely past one in the afternoon, the front-door to the house opened and the bell-clear voice of a girl called.

"I'm ho~me!"

Gerald's ears perked up.

The next thing he heard was the agent dropping plates into spongy sink-water, grabbing a towel and hastening toward her. "Sage!" He skidded around the corner to the hallway. "You were supposed to arrive in the evening!"

The girl closed the door and dropped her little travel-bag to the floor: "I know. The bus left early and I thought I'd come home alone."

Gerald peeked around the corner and watched how the agent dropped to his knees, gathering the girl into his arms, squeezing her, swaying her left and right: "But we wanted to come and pick you up!"

The girl wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist as he stood and lifted her: "I wanted to surprise you!"

The gay-boy kept littering the side of her face with kisses: "I am surprised! I missed you so much! How was summer-camp?"

"Bo~ring!"

That made the agent laugh uncontrollably: "Of course, habibti. Come, let's go and tell your father."

Enraptured, Gerald watched as the child was carried past him, toward the stairs that would lead down to Ivo's lab.

*

Dr. ROBOTNIK:

Robotnik had been putting together a robotic arm - his workbench cluttered with uncountable, tiny little shrews, a spray-bottle with lubricating oil, coil springs and two dozen other things. He wore headphones which was why he had not heard Stone and Sage coming into his lab, quietly sneaking down the stairs.

He screeched like a banshee when the girl suddenly, without any warning whatsoever, threw herself around his neck. From behind. He nearly fell off his chair, tore at his headphones and then, amidst a severe cardiac event, recognised the diabolical giggling in his ear.

"SAGE!"

Her cackling would not stop. Incensed, Robotnik rose to his feet, hysterical ex-heir hanging from his shoulders, and turned to find his traitor of an agent softly laughing in his face.

"She wanted to surprise you."

"WE WERE SUPPOSED TO PICK HER UP!"

"I know", the idiot grinned - a bit red around the ears.

"Did the old man see her?"

"I'm not sure", Stone smiled that lopsided, apologetic smile of his, "Possibly."

"HNGHN!"

Sage dropped to the floor, having sniffed secrets on the wind: "What old man?"

Robotnik rolled his eyes: "Child. You upset my game-plan."

"Tell me or I'll access the house security feed", she tried to argue and met her father's glare stubbornly.

"I already locked you out, fiend", the doctor grinned triumphantly, "Now go to your room. Take Stone with you. I'll have to go and do damage control."

She was obviously gearing up to fight this but Stone, ever the defuser in the house of Robotnik, picket up the little girl and carried her back upstairs - by means of the second staircase, of course. Meanwhile, the doctor tried to steel himself for a very annoying conversation.

*

PROF. ROBOTNIK:

"You're having a child out of wedlock?" The future was a lawless, depraved, corrupt place after all. He watched as Ivo rolled his eyes - obviously not taking child-welfare seriously after all. How could that boy have grown up to be such a-!

The orphanage! Oh it was clear! Without a proper family during his formative years, to show him the proper way, he had grown into an irresponsible, fickle-!

"WILL YOU SHUT UP, OLD MAN!"

"How did you two manage to have a child?" Had they adopted after all? Without having been married?

"What kind of question is that? I am her father, I made her. Stone just loves being a doting mother-hen."

"A child needs a proper family. You should make your affiliation official."

"What? I have the paperwork already. Stone's going nowhere."

Gerald, having spent enough time around his stubborn grandson, regarded him for a long, long moment. Quiet. Assessing. He himself had referred to a marriage certificate. He was sure Ivo had thought about the agent's employment contract.

At this point, Gerald lost it:

"Son! That gay-boy truly loves you! Why won't you do anything about that!"

"HE WHA-WHAT? WHAT ARE YOU RAMBLING ABOUT, OLD MAN!"

*

DR. ROBOTNIK:

The old man was insane. Robotnik had fled the conversation as soon as his so-called grandfather had opened his mouth and inhaled to launch into a detailed report about his delusions. He had simply turned on his heel and left.

His feet had carried him upstairs at nearly the speed of light.

He found Stone and Sage in the girl's room where he barged through the door, slammed it shut behind him and then plastered his back against it, just to be sure it wouldn't be opened and he would be forced to look at that horrible face with that ridiculous moustache.

Stone was looking at him funny. As in, he was looking at him with his mother-hen eyes.

"STONE! New order for you: DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT engage with the old man. He's full of silly notions. I'll try to find him a senior home."

To his displeasure it was Sage who cried out: "What? You cannot send grandpa to a home!"

"STONE!"

"Sir, I-!"

"You traitor!", Robotnik growled and pushed off the door to threateningly advance on his agent. It did not have the exactly desired effect. Instead, his sycophant blushed prettily and rubbed at his neck: "I really thought she deserved to know. It is her great-grandfather after all."

The doctor knelt beside the spot where Stone was sitting with Sage. They had been unpacking her travel-bag.

"It's not Abby's fault", Sage jumped to his defence, "I could see it."

"WHAT? Are you comparing me to that- that bloated old-timer?"

Sage remained unimpressed: "It's the bone structure, papa. And the eyes."

Not even a little assuaged, Robotnik flopped onto his arse and glared: "I'll let your body age and I'll let it age hideously."

Stone nudged their knees together, pouting, and silently tried to sway him. Irgh! That idiot!

Sage felt a lot less threatened: "I wanna meet my great-granddad. It's going to be fun!"

"Oh~, it's not", Robotnik groused and added, "not for me." Then he inhaled deeply to change his tone somewhat, shooting for a more serious approach: "But honestly, Sage, we did not want you to meet him like this. I mean, the DNA-test proved, unfortunately, that he is indeed my grandfather. But he is a stranger and we know nothing of him. I want you two to remain vigilant and not to trust too easily. He was in prison for almost half a century. Keep that in mind."

Stone was already familiar with the speech but Sage nodded obediently: "I understand, papa. I'll be careful."

"Good girl."

She grinned and from the corner of his eye he saw his agent's soft, soft smile.

"I'll be sleeping with you tonight, habibti", Stone said then, still in the middle of taking out clothes from the girl's travel-bag and sorting and folding them, "Just to be on the safe side."

"Aren't you being paranoid?", Robotnik drawled, "He isn't allowed upstairs. The security system would alert us."

The lop-sided grin his henchman then offered was warning him pre-emptively that he would not like hearing the man's next words: "True but he is your grandfather and according to Walters' file, he is just as brilliant as you are. Sir. What if he hacks his way up here?"

The doctor gasped theatrically: "Stone!"

"I'm sorry, sir." The agent kept folding his daughter's clothes and passing them along to her for sorting them into the dresser. For a moment, Robotnik watched the two - observing how they wordlessly worked together. Then he said: "You'll both be sleeping in my bed tonight."

*

PROF. ROBOTNIK:

Almost a week later and Gerald still found it hard to believe that his usually so smart grandson would raise a child out of wed-lock. That was just... irresponsible. And frankly ridiculous - given the fact that all the necessary pieces were basically there.

Everything was the wrong way round!

How could his fool of a grandson have acquired a child and a life-partner and not be married? That was just wrong.

On one afternoon, he had even tried to ask his beautiful great-granddaughter about it:

"Child, may I speak with you?"

She had been sitting at the couch table in the floor-ground living room, watching cartoons and doodling sketches of hyper-realistic daffodils. The 'agent' was never far and constantly keeping an eye on her - or Gerald. Probably both. His effort to protect that precious little girl was commendable.

Sage - what a pretty name! - had hummed and invited him to sit with her.

"Do you know what is going on with your fathers?"

She had frowned: "I need clarification. That is simply too vague a question."

He had sat awkwardly next to her. Stiff joints and a possibly too big belly would do that... "Why aren't they married?"

The world-heavy sigh that had fallen from the little girl's lips at that enquiry should have told him everything: "That's a grown-up thing. I am ju~st a little girl and I don't know what I am talking about."

That had sounded like something she had been told before. Gerald had scooted a bit closer. "Between you and me, what do you think, though? I get the feeling my grandson is being an idiot. The gay-boy- ow!"

Sage had zapped his nose, cute little face twisted into a horrifically disapproving glare: "His name is Abby! No calling him names!"

"FINE!", Gerald had groused and rubbed his reddening nose, "Why aren't they, though?"

The girl had heaved another heavy sigh: "Because papa is an idiot."

That had been his final straw: his grandson was in obvious need of some assistance.

*

STONE:

The arrival and subsequent moving-in of the doctor's long lost grandfather had been, to put it mildly, a surprise. Stone had been filled with a lot of conflicting emotions, he had no idea how his boss had felt throughout all of this.

And, to be fully honest, Stone had been a bit... selfishly worried.

Over the course of years, so many years, he had managed to carve out a place at the doctor's side for himself - with a lot of patience and then even more patience. And he had been happy. So happy.

The professor's arrival had threatened to upset this dream of a life.

But thankfully, and Stone had felt ashamed over his relief, the doctor had had no initial interest in that long lost relative of his.

And his disinterest had only grown.

Which had filled Stone with a sort of happy relief/triumph. Not his finest character trait, surely, but... He had everything he had ever wanted and more and the fear of losing all that paralysed him.

He was working, still working, for the most brilliant man on the face of the earth. His greatest hero and the best man he'd ever known. He had his trust. Had it to an extent that made Stone vibrate with happiness and pride.

'Working' might have even missed the mark by a margin because for years he hadn't received a single monthly salary. But, why would he need that? He had unrestricted access to the doctor's accounts. All of them. Even the not-strictly-legal off-shore accounts.

And when the doctor had, some years ago, decided to put a lot more distance between himself and the USA government and moved from that GUN-owned HQ in Washington DC to his own personal and private house in the Washington DC suburbs, Stone had gone with him. No questions asked. From neither party involved.

He had thought living with the man the culmination of all of his hopes and dreams.

Until Robotnik, that unparalleled genius, had made Sage.

And Stone had come to experience an entirely different kind of love.

Never ask him which Robotnik held more space in his heart.

So.

Elysium.

Then his boss had received that call from the New Jersey State Prison. But his brief terror had quickly evaporated because Robotnik had seemed as disinclined to welcome this new person into their lives as Stone had.

And while Stone's apprehension had slowly abated over time, Robotnik's had risen and risen and risen.

To a point where Stone almost found it cute.

Especially the prohibition he had received, from speaking to the professor. Not that he ever had any intention to spend prolonged time with the odd geriatric but the doctor's instruction had made him smile.

That smile had quickly morphed into barely suppressed eye-rolling when, a week later, the professor tried talking to him.

"Gay-boy, come over here a moment. I'd like to share a word."

"I'm not allowed to speak with you."

Personally, he held no interest in that old man. If he could, he would make him disappear. But, he was the doctor's grandfather. And Sage's great-grandfather. So, he felt compelled to make an effort. Beyond that, all the people he needed in his life were the doctor and Sage. No more. None necessary.

But the old man would not leave him.

"I would like to go into the city", he explained, "There is a restaurant I've been meaning to try out. Would you perhaps drive me there?"

"The limousine can do that, professor. No need for me to drive you."

His answer had obviously not been anticipated because there was that distinct Robotnik-glint in the old man's eyes as he tried to plot around this obstacle.

Stone did not wait for him to come up with more flimsy excuses to lure him into whatever scheme he had been concocting. He returned to the kitchen, to wash vegetables and began putting together their dinner. He was in the middle of verifying that all the ingredients were available, when the doctor poked his head into the kitchen.

Having anticipated the brief visit, Stone gestured to the tall cup of steaming hot coffee sitting on the kitchen island - waiting for Robotnik.

"Your grandfather is plotting something", he warned en passant, watching from the corner of his eye how his boss took a long, long sip from his coffee. The resulting moan made Stone shiver and smile.

"Yeah", Robotnik groused.

"Is there reason to worry?"

"For my sanity, yes. Otherwise no", the doctor assured. He licked a stripe of milk foam off his moustache. "Keep away from him, anyway. I'll be in the lab."

"Yes, sir", Stone acknowledged, "Dinner will be on time."

With a last nod, the doctor and his cup left.

An hour later, had Stone putting the prepared baking dish full of vegetables, chicken and parmesan into the refrigerator. It would only take about thirty minutes to heat it up when the time came. Until then he would focus on putting together the sauce.

"Boy!"

Oh what now!

"The limousine is broken."

*

PROF. ROBOTNIK:

Convincing the ga-, hrm, agent to believe him and then come and see for himself, proved quite a battle. In the end, he won, though, and it was almost comical watching the boy stare dumb-founded at the unresponsive limousine. Gerald had no doubt that he would be able to fix the car, given time.

Which was why he upped the pressure:

"I am almost running late already", he huffed, "I had a table reserved. Will you drive me now, boy?"

Once a tool, always a tool, the agent rolled his eyes and surrendered. He promised to get his motorcycle. He did, though with a sidecar. Not exactly a very dignified mode of transport for Gerald but he kept his focus on his goal.

And thankfully, the boy also forewent his thick motorcycle gear opting instead for staying in his black slacks and shirt. The weather was nice enough, warm and sunny. He pushed the lower half of his tie into his shirt as he straddle his machine.

"I will drop you off", he announced, starting the machine, "and return home. Call me when you need to be picked up. Okay?"

"Ja ja", he lied and awkwardly squeezed himself into the side-car.

The drive from the suburbs to the restaurant he had picked for his plot took only twenty minutes. Now, he needed to trick the agent into staying...

*

DR. ROBOTNIK:

Usually, whenever he came up to get himself a cup of coffee, his trusted agent would come to pick up said cup of coffee, now empty, from his desk. Without a fail. Today, those twenty minutes passed and no barnacle showed up. Perplexed, Robotnik rubbed his tiring eyes, picked up the cup himself and went upstairs to investigate.

No Stone.

Nowhere.

The kitchen was empty. The living room. All the bedrooms.

Sage was in the upstairs living room, sat before the TV, doing her home-work. "Sage", he called, "Where is Stone?"

She barely looked up from her book: "Out on a date."

It took the doctor a moment to process those words because his initial, auto-pilot understanding was 'out, grocery shopping'. Possibly because the man had been missing some ingredient for their dinner. He was known to do that. Then Robotnik's brain did a full-stop.

He took two steps back and poked his head once more around the door-frame to the living room.

"Come again?"

Sage still wouldn't look up: "Out. On a date."

"A date?", he repeated incredulously and came closer.

Sage made an affirmative humming noise. Still not looking up.

Robotnik stood over her now - looming. "With whom."

Finally, his daughter looked up and the look in her single, visible eye should have made him pause. Yet, his brain was busy shattering around the concept of his agent 'out on a date'. "Didn't say."

He squatted down: "Sage."

"Yes, papa?"

"I need you to particularise."

*

STONE:

Old people could be peculiar, Stone knew. So he had just shrugged when upon their arrival at the professor's chosen restaurant, he had bidden Stone to come inside for a moment and wait at his table while he himself had shuffled off toward the restrooms. Old people, what could you do.

So, Stone was sitting at the reserved table, scrolling through his phone and re-checking his recipe for the evening, hardly noticing how much time the professor was taking. His chin was resting on his palm.

Dinner would be served later than planned, so much he had already calculated. But the doctor would probably hardly notice. Sage knew where to find her nano-bot-smoothies.

He sighed wistfully around a smile when he remembered the doctor's brief visit to the kitchen, for his habitual coffee. Oh how handsome he had looked - in his cashmere turtle-neck pullover and the freshly pressed plated slacks! Stone had very nearly made a noise the moment he had spied his boss.

So, so handsome. Stone was truly the luckiest man on the planet.

His dreamy yearning was interrupted and he almost had a fright when someone rudely plopped down onto the chair catty-corner from him. He had barely drawn breath to hiss some very unfriendly commentary to get the unwanted visitor to leave, when he recognised the stormy glare directed toward him.

"Doctor!", he gasped and blushed.

Indeed! Robotnik himself had fallen onto the chair like a vengeful angel had taken throne in this unworthy mortal restaurant. The smile that spread Stone's lips was wholly involuntary. A true Pavlovian reaction.

"Stone", the man growled thunderously and suddenly the agent wondered whether all this anger was directed at him.

"SIr?"

"What the hell are you doing here?"

The doctor appeared honestly incensed. Stone frowned wondering what he had done and how to appease his boss: "Your grandfather wanted to come to this restaurant and-!"

"You're here with my grandfather?"

Eeeehhh. Why was the doctor saying it so oddly? "He... he wanted to come here and I thought... if I kept him out of your hair... you would, would appreciate-?"

"I would appreciate it if you went on a date with my. Fuckin'. Grand. Father."

Oh god! OH GOD! NO! Stone immediately scooted closer: "Sir!"

"You have five seconds to explain, agent."

He didn't feel embarrassment any longer. Only nausea. How could the doctor possibly believe for even a second that he would-!

The doctor's smartphone chimed where it rested in the man's trouser-pocket.

Without taking his eyes off Stone, Robotnik pulled it out: "Think of something fast. This isn't over." Then he finally lowered his gaze and the agent felt able to breathe once more. His heart was racing frantically in his chest.

He cast his own gaze around and realised with rising horror how this must have looked: he was sat at a table for two, a slender vase with a deep red rose put onto it. Soft, cheesy music from the late 60s was playing from the radio. And oh god, he had probably been smiling like a love-sick loon because he had been looking at the pictures of their latest family trip to that rodent-themed amusement park.

*

DR. ROBOTNIK:

The chime from his phone had saved his wayward philanderer. Temporarily. He could not believe that he had to put his foot down and remind Stone of his sole reason in life: to be his agent. Nothing more. Nothing else mattered.

All his focus, all his concern, his every aspiration belonged to Ivo Robotnik. No one else.

Why the hell would he have to remind the idiot of that?

Huh.

The message had been from his grandfather. That meddlesome disturbance.

Grandfather: Enjoy your date and make the most of it. You're welcome.

Robotnik's eyes widened comically.

What.

Wha- WHAT?

Stone took this moment to further plead his case. His now totally obsolete case. "Sir! I swear it wasn't-!"

He needed to shut up.

Robotnik's hand shot forward, clamping around his henchman's mouth - maybe a bit roughly, but he needed him to shut up.

"Uumphf?"

"Oh give me a break...", Robotnik groaned. He let his phone drop to the table and then dropped his face into his free palm. "I can't believe this..."

Stone frowned in worry - he could feel it.

"Stone", he sighed, "Calm down." Slowly he pulled his hand away, noticing how his agent swayed after it.

Before either of them could say anything more, a waiter stepped to their table - a bit nervous because he had probably witness the hand-mouth-thingy. Irgh. People are so squeamish.

"Are you ready to order, gentlemen?"

"We are leaving."

*

PROF. ROBOTNIK:

Gerald was sitting next to Sage at the couch table in the ground-floor living room, trying to help her build her Lego 'death star'. Whatever that might be. The plastic ball was almost bigger than his little great-granddaughter was. The instruction manual seemed forward enough but the innumerable pieces nearly boggled his engineer-brain. How was a nine-year-old-girl mastering this?

"Are you sure that is the right colour?"

"Yes, grandpa", Sage insisted patiently and showed him the schematic on the last few pages of the manual. "See?"

"I see", he mumbled, unconvinced.

From one moment to the next, the front-door to the house slammed open with a force strong enough to knock out an ox. In strode, naturally, his furious grandson Ivo - towing behind him a very flustered agent.

"We'll be up in my bedroom", Ivo hollered, "If you know what's good for you, you'll stay right here. Oh, and"- he stopped for the shortest of moments to glare at the two Robotniks sitting at the little couch table and did that 'I'm watching you'-gesture with his v-spread index and middle finger- "we'll be having words. Later."

Then he stormed off, tugging the agent along by the wrist.

Gerald snickered and clicked together two pieces of Lego: "Let's hope they finally come clean." To his displeasure, his great-granddaughter made a sceptical noise. "What! You think there's still a chance at failure?"

Sage shrugged and turned her kill-globe to look at the opposite side: "Papa's been thick-headed about Abby's crush on him for ever."

"What about the gay- the boy?"

"Abby? He'll never say anything. He's scared papa will kick him out."

"But... Are they stupid?"

"Yes."

*

STONE:

Oh this was possibly going to end so very badly... The ride back home in the doctor's roadster had been a tense affair. Not one word his boss had lost but the unshakable expression of biblical wrath had never wavered for a moment. The trap-theory only solidified when they passed by the ground-floor living room and found Gerald sitting there - playing Legos with Sage.

Stone glared, too, then. He was so pissed off! If that old geezer had cost him his perfect life, he wouldn't care how much DNA he shared with the brilliant doctor: he would kill him.

Before he could do anything though, Robotnik had already dragged him off. Upstairs. Into the privacy of his bedroom. Robotnik's, that is. The door slammed shut behind him and Stone felt himself blushing beet-red because... well, because... Fuck! This was going to be so cruel....

"Sir", he begged, "I had nothing to do with this! And I would never- ooph!" He had been shoved backwards against the door by one commanding hand.

When he opened his eyes again, the doctor was right there!

"You would never what?", the man growled dangerously - sexily. Stone swallowed thickly around the dry lump in his throat. "What exactly would you never, agent?"

Oh god, this was so not the moment to be aroused...!

Stone's eyes were wide. His breath was stuck in his chest. "I'd never betray you, sir. Or leave you", he assured shakily, "I am... happy where I am. I wouldn't-!"

Robotnik was still glaring, still trying to gauge whether he was telling the truth: "So you were not in on the old man's plan to set us up?"

"S-set us up?" Huh?

"Yes or no, agent", the doctor hissed, "It's not a difficult question."

"N-no, sir! I- I wasn't... in on it."

"What's with that pause, agent? That sounded important. Do not dare lie to me."

"I'd never lie to you, doctor!"

Oh~ god! His boss was so close. The last time Robotnik had been angry enough to get... physical was but a distant memory of Stone's. And he wasn't exactly looking forward to the man's ire but he had certainly missed this closeness. It made him a bad agent and possibly a very bad friend but... sometimes he felt weak.

He loved this man.

And sometimes he wished he were allowed to touch. Even the briefest hug would be nice...

His throat clicked as he swallowed.

Robotnik stood close enough that with every breath that expanded their chests, it brushed their bodies together. Stone kept his hands raised as if held at gun-point because no matter how much he wished and longed and desired he would never overstep the line. He knew his place. Knew the limits of this paradise he had been gifted. And he would never do anything to upset the doctor.

"I believe you, Stone", the man growled so low the vibrations hummed in Stone's very marrow, making him shiver, "I believe you because I know you cannot lie to me. It's a tragic drama watching you even try. But. This means you're keeping a secret."

Eh...

"Out with it, barnacle", Robotnik ordered, "How have you planned to betray me?"

Stone's heart was about to work itself into tachycardia. He felt faint and sick. "Sir..."

The doctor's palms slammed against the door to the right and left of Stone's head, bracketing him in. The gesture had been meant as a threat, of course, but Stone only whimpered. His face felt burning hot. "Out. With it."

"Doctor... I was entirely ignorant of your grandfather's schemes...", his voice faltered.

"But?"

"There is... for me... I know it is..." He really had no idea how to describe his feelings on the matter without provoking Robotnik to kick him out in disgust. "I'd never betray you." He was such a failure... Absolutely unworthy.

The doctor pushed off, threw his hands about and generally did that exasperated dance people do when they're praying for divine help: "Stone! The old fool that is my grandfather has the delusion that you love me. That is why he concocted this ridiculous ploy! It needs to stop and since I cannot deal with this nonsense any longer, you'll go down there and make it clear that he is insane!"

Stone blinked.

After several moments he remembered that his body required regular intake of fresh oxygen and he inhaled sharply. "I cannot do that. Sir."

"WHAT."

"I cannot do that", he repeated with a frown. Or pout. He was no longer sure which feeling his face was showing.

Robotnik made a theatrically incredulous expression and Stone had to tamp down on his reflexive smile: "WHY THE HELL NOT?"

"Because he's right", he offered, thoroughly confused.

His confusion only heightened and solidified when he observed Robotnik going through several stages of processing: incredulity, annoyance, firm disbelief, wrath, frustration, resignation, acceptance. "Stone", he finally managed to sigh as he massaged his forehead and temples, "I am not in the mood for more jokes of this kind."

Why would he ever joke about something like this? "Sir?"

"Just... go and tell the fool that you have no inclination toward me. At least not of the romantic kind." He was turning away, waving Stone off.

What the hell? "No, sir." Now he pout-glared because. Because!

"GAH! MUST YOU ANNOY ME SO?"

"I'll tell him to stop bothering you anyway", Stone relented, his hand already going for the doorhandle.

He had barely opened the door a centimetre when it was slammed shut once more. Robotnik was standing right behind him, looming, one arm over his shoulder and his palm pressing against the door. Stone had to close his eyes. He could feel the man's warmth. His brain had already been fogging up with his perfume. The situation and their proximity made him shudder. He was praying fervently that he would not get any more aroused by this...

"Why."

The doctor's voice was right next to his ear. His harsh breath fanning over his skin, brushing his hair.

"Why won't you tell the decrepit meddler that you don't love me?"

Oh god.

Stone was blushing to the tips of his ears.

He inhaled and cleared his throat nervously, keeping his eyes averted: "I don't want to lie about this, doctor."

"Huh?"

Stone managed to look at the other, frowning unhappily, and shrugged: "Of course I love you, sir."

There was that wary glare again: "I think we're talking past each other here so let me explain: I know you love me, you idiot. But my grandfather believes that love includes wanting to smooch and hold hands and sleep in my bed and arms and take my fuckin' name! Now go and tell him that he's making a fool of himself and me!"

Thank god the doctor was standing behind him. Because otherwise he would have easily noticed Stone's bodily reaction to the picture the man had painted. Of course he wanted that! So much. One thing made him pause though. He turned his head, flushed cheeks be damned, and looked quizzically at his boss: "A fool?"

"You speak nearly a dozen languages", Robotnik growled into his ear - provoking goosebumps to spread all over his body, starting from where his breath had huffed against his skin, "Please don't tell me I have to explain that word."

Stone lowered his gaze, body still somewhat angled toward his boss, and scratched his nose in a nervous gesture: "I'm sorry I caused you problems, sir. I'll talk with your grandfather and make him understand the situation."

Sigh. His perpetually one-side love for Robotnik was nothing new to him. He had accepted the fundamental asymmetrical balance of their feelings for each other a long, long time ago. To a certain degree, he knew the doctor loved him. It was obvious in the way he had been allowed be a part of his family. But it was still... different. Because Stone, in the secret depths of his heart, absolutely wanted. Wanted all those things like smooching and hand-holding and, god, sleeping in the doctor's arms. The thought of taking his name? It nearly broke his heart because yes! He wanted!

And Robotnik did not.

Instead, he felt like a fool, bothered with the potential extent of Stone's foolishly obvious affection for him.

God, if the old man had been able to notice it so quickly, Stone would have to keep himself in check. More in check. He guessed, he had felt too secure. Had become too complacent in this fantasy he had been living.

His heart was squeezing so painfully in his chest.

If only the old man had never shown up...

Stone's hand was resting on the doorhandle.

Because.

Something... something wasn't adding up. It was so difficult to think clearly with his heart pounding unhappily away in his chest. And even if he could, he was constantly afraid of losing himself in his wishful thinking...

But.

"Sir?", he asked quietly.

Robotnik had sat down at the foot-end of his bed, elbows resting on his knees, head hung. "Yeah?", he moaned and rubbed his temple.

"Would...", he had to swallow around the lump of nauseating fear in his throat, "Would you really feel a fool if I wanted that? All of that?"

"Stone", came the warning growl, "If this is one of your power-plays, I advise you stop this instant because I'm really not in the mood."

"I'm sorry, doctor..." He pressed himself against the door, still not opening it.

Odd.

"Sir?"

"Are you going to mock me more? I never took you for being-"

"Mock you?", Stone frowned and turned his head to meet the doctor's fatally resigned expression, "I'd never. I- I don't understand. Why would you feel like a fool if I loved you like this? And if it made you uncomfortable, shouldn't you be relieved that I went out on a date? Not with your grandfather though... but... in general? What about my pitiful yearning for you is a power-play to you? How could I mock you with my foolish feelings for you?"

"Huh?"

His boss looked well and truly baffled. Thoughts were racing behind his wide eyes, so much Stone could clearly see. Curling his fingers into fists, Stone forced himself to wait. Rarely had he felt more terrified but his stupid, stupid heart was threatening to pound a way through his chest, toward the doctor. Stupid, stupid and hopeful.

Could they, and he felt so ridiculous over his incessant longing and hoping, have been stuck in a misunderstanding?

Eventually Robotnik's confusion melted into squinty scrutiny: "What."

Stone looked to the side, unable to be brave any longer: "I- I'm sorry... I thought... maybe I misunderstood..." Embarrassed he rubbed his neck.

He flinched in surprise when the doctor suddenly rose - that horrific glare back: "Shut up, agent!" In only a few strides the man was back before him, looming handsomely. "My meddling grandfather has been trying to convince me that you love me. As in love love. I told him he was stupid. But he kept insisting, kept pushing me to 'make a move'. Naturally, I ignored him and his senile machinations. But he would not stop pestering me. When Sage said you were out on a date... I had never wanted to dispose of that old man more. His arrival has been disturbing our peace. My peace."

It was strangely pleasing how the doctor had harboured the same feelings as he.

"You say you weren't in on his scheming", Robotnik pondered.

"I wasn't", Stone assured softly.

"But you also say that he is right."

"Insofar that I truly love you. With all my heart. And yeah, I dream of kissing you. And sleeping in your arms."

The look of pure shock on his boss' face was nearly comical. After a moment, the doctor blinked and cleared his throat: "And... the... the... my name?"

Stone blushed all over again: "I never dared to dream of that..."

"Chier....", the doctor cussed, still looking very puzzled.

"Can I... Can I assume that you were not upset-?"

"FERME LA!"

"Yes, sir."

"You mean to tell me that... that we both have been idiots? That that vieille bique was right? PUTAIN! Que bordel! Ça me fait chier! GAH!"

"Sir..." Robotnik was pacing the room, tugging at his hair and being generally very upset. Not a sight Stone had ever been good at suffering. "Is there-?"

"Yes! Come here at once!"

Contradicting his own words, the doctor was already approaching him in just a few long strides, crowding him back against the door all over again and this time stopping only when Stone was squeezed in between. Oh what a good place to be! Stone gasped in delight and then dissolved into a figurative puddle of goo because Robotnik had grabbed the sides of his face and was kissing him.

Kissing!

The doctor was kissing him!

Stone could not be bothered that he had made a rather unmanly, high-pitched noise of surprise. Followed by a moan. Followed by more whining. He flung his arms around the man's shoulders, clinging to him out of fear, fear that his knees would buckle and he would just fall.

There was nothing sweet about this kiss. At all. The doctor seemed to transfer all of his annoyance and frustration into it but Stone loved it all the more for it. It was so typically Robotnik that he shivered and moaned and wanted and wanted and wanted.

Before he knew it he was carding his fingers through the other's hair, upsetting its order but receiving a vibrating hum of approval. He moaned all over again.

"Sir...", he gasped.

Robotnik slid his lips and that iconic moustache to the side, tickling over Stone's skin in the best of ways, until he reached the spot beneath the agent's ear and bit.

"Ahhngh~!"

Fuck! He was going to die! Die of overexposure. The doctor was disposing of him, after all these years and all the progress they had made to become sort-of friends, and Stone would be so, so fine with it.

"Wait." NO~! "Before this goes any further", Robotnik murmured without removing himself, "Clarification. You love me and all that commonly entails. Practices pertaining to romance, consummation and co-habitation in that configuration."

Stone groaned and climbed into the doctor's embrace: "God yes! And don't stop talking about minutiae..."

His boss made chortling noise, making it clear that he was both amused and exasperated: "Whatever went wrong during your sexual socialisation...?"

"You ruined me, doctor", Stone admitted easily.

"So it would seem", Robotnik's voice rumbled deep, deep in his throat and Stone shuddered from feeling the vibrations translate into his own body, "How fortunate for me. Proceeding. I love you. Same conditions."

The whine that erupted from him at that proclamation was... mortifying. "Si~r!"

"Stop crying", the doctor groused against his lips, faux-annoyed, "And if I ever hear anything about you going out on a date that I wasn't informed of and permitted which, by the way, would never happen, there will be a reckoning."

Stone didn't possess the necessary faculties to assure the doctor of just how hilariously unlikely that scenario would ever be. Instead, he simply gathered the man into a hungry, hungry kiss. So hungry.

He positively wailed when Robotnik suddenly pulled away: "One more thing." And then he stepped away, opened the door and disappeared. "I'll be back in a moment."

Stone looked after him - stricken, baffled and so, so amused. His silly doctor was such a goof.

The pause afforded him with the much needed opportunity to, well, breathe and re-supply his brain with oxygen.

He was also hoping that his heart would calm down. At least a bit.

His pulse was racing, his respiration still coming in harsh puffs.

Overwhelmed, he tugged his tie loose and ran his fingers through his hair. Was it too late to resemble a bit less... un-cool? Oh, whom was he kidding? If the doctor were to touch him one more time, Stone would dissolve. Oh god, he was hard. So hard.

He cleared his throat and wondered whether his boss would be amenable to... help him with that once he returned.

The possibility had his knees wobbling.

*

PROF. ROBOTNIK:

Gerald squinted at the colourful pictogram and wondered whether he had reached the point where he needed glasses after all. He looked at the construct in his hands, then back to the pictogram and back again. He frowned: "I think I made a mistake."

Sage leaned toward him, took three seconds to assess the situation and then pointed at a pictogram two steps before his current score. "No, you are fine. You are just confused because the perspective changed. See here? That arrow means the schematic was changed, perspectively."

"Ooh~!"

That made sense!

It was at that moment they heart hurried footsteps coming down the stairs. Seconds later, his grandson stormed around the corner to the hallway like a fiery djinn from the deserts his lover-boy originally came from. He was well and truly incensed. So it came as no real surprise when the boy took several apples from the basked on the kitchen island and then rifled them all, one by one, at Gerald.

And with a precision and force that was frankly impressive!

Gerald tried to duck but his belly hindered any quick movements: "WHA-! HEY! ACK! AH! ELDER ABUSE!"

Sage sat unimpressed and safe next to him. "Papa", she sighed disapprovingly.

"DU VERDAMMTER, ALTER SCHEIßER! MISCH DICH NICHT IN MEIN LEBEN EIN!"

Nearly every syllable came with a projectile-apple and each one hit at least one part of Gerald's unfortunately rather cooperatively large body: "OW! BOY! ACK! SON, WILL YOU STOP IT! OW!"

Huffing from the exertion but thankfully out of ammunition, Ivo simply glared and raised one threatening finger: "Last warning. I will put you on the street, old man." Then he turned around and left.

Gerald kept rubbing his abused arms, grunting: "What a tantrum..."

Sage, bless her pure little heart, was still looking after her father, her head a bit angled: "Do you think our plan worked?"

"Well, judging from the beard-burn I'd venture we won."

*

STONE:

The sudden screaming from downstairs had Stone jumping to his feet. He had been sitting at the foot-end of the doctor's bed, patiently if nervously waiting for his boss to return. He had barely made it past the door when Robotnik was already coming back up the stairs, glowering.

"Sir? Is everything-?"

Spread fingers pressed against his chest as soon as the doctor reached him, pushing him back into the man's bedroom. "Just a bit of a corrective measure", he was assured.

Stone went easily, his pulse taking up pace just at this minor point of contact: "If you say so."

The door shut and locked behind them, the double-clicking possibly manifesting an instant Pavlovian reaction within Stone's body. He shuddered in anticipation.

"Where were we?", Robotnik drawled, tugging the hem of Stone's shirt free from his slacks. It was hopefully a rhetorical question because the agent wasn't sure he could voice any of the hopes he harboured. He meep-ed when the doctor pulled at his loosened tie, making him crash into a kiss.

God, he was so gone on that man! He had by no means exaggerated when he thought himself ruined.

If the doctor hadn't wrapped an arm around his waist, he would have fallen because his knees were no longer holding him up. His arms, though, were making up for his sudden bout of weakness. He clung to his boss' shoulders with the intention to never, ever let him go. Only at the far edge of his perception did he notice that Robotnik was walking him backwards.

Well, mostly carrying him.

Stone was busy with other things. Things like, devouring that man he had been yearning for since almost the day they had met.

When he was rudely shoved off and backwards, his first instinct at this unacceptable separation was to complain, emphatically, then he realised that the doctor had pushed him onto his bed and was following closely after him. Stone thrilled when his boss laid on top of him. He let his legs fall open and pushed his hips up - moaning in pure bliss when he felt the doctor's growing erection.

Fuck! This was happening!

It was really happening!

He gasped at Robotnik's warm palms, sliding beneath his untucked shirt and over his tickly belly. Desperate for more, he took the maestro's face in his hands and pulled him in for another deep, deep kiss.

Would it be okay for him to take off the doctor's pullover?

Fingers soft-scratched over his chest making him arch his back off the mattress.

"Sir, please!", he gasped, hugged his legs around the doctor's hips and frantically tugged at the previously so admired pullover, "Can you-?"

Robotnik grunted and sat back up onto his haunches.

Oh god...

The sight of the doctor taking off his pullover, especially from this low angle, had Stone mewling and slapping his hands over his eyes. He couldn't look or he'd embarrass himself...

"What, Stone?", the doctor groused though, sounding affronted, "Is this old body not doing it for you, after all?"

Oh he had it so~ wrong!

"Sir", Stone whined, "You're horribly, horribly mistaken..."

He felt the man moving and heard the pullover being dropped onto the floor. Next, there were fingers fumbling with his belt, opening it and roughly tugging it off him. He moaned and bucked his hips.

"Agent", came the stern rebuke, "Explain because I'm getting mixed signals here."

Equally as rough his fly was opened and his slacks shoved down. Not far. Not enough to free his aching cock which had erected an angry tent in his trousers.

Stone made a tortured noise and gave up. What was the point anyway? In one fluid motion he sat up, gathered a surprised doctor into a less fervent but more tender kiss and pushed, pushed until the man lay on his back with him straddling his hips.

So seated, Stone righted himself and began taking off his tie, licking his lips: "Sir, I'm afraid you're on the wrong track." He circled his hips, shuddering in pleasure when he felt his boss' arousal hard and unmistakable against him. "I had to look away or else I would have come."

"WHAT?"

Stone grinned and leaned down to kiss the doctor, humming in pleasure: "You're a very handsome man, sir."

"OH COME ON!"

"I'd never lie to you, sir", he teased, sitting back up, and began to open the buttons on his shirt. Robotnik watched him with the intensity of a tax inspector during an audit. "And I can't wait for you to consume me."

He took his shirt off and dropped it to the floor. His lips were already pressing against the doctor's again when the man groused: "Well. That can be arranged." Still feeling his boss' scepticism, he smiled into their kiss. He could always begin to let the doctor know whenever he thought he looked hot and sexy, now that they had... found together.

"Why are you grinning, agent?"

Stone smiled wider in response, taking the man's face back into his hands and licking over his lower lip. "I think you're very sexy when you're grouchy." The stunned look that earned him was so adorable, Stone just kept on placing besotted kisses all over his boss' face.

"And I think you're very sexy when you tinker."

"And when you code."

"And when you dance."

"And when you pilot."

"And-!"

"I GET IT!" Robotnik sat up and tossed the agent to the side, rolling after him until he once more knelt above. "You lo~ve everything about me."

Sarcasm dripped from every syllable but Stone just grinned and nodded: "Yessir!" He happily let the doctor pick up his foot and take off his shoe. "Every little thing."

The doctor rolled his eyes and threw the shoe over his shoulder: "Stone, you hopeless fawner." He freed the henchman from his second shoe and dropped it over the edge of the bed. "I guess I should feel lucky. Lucky that I managed to ensorcell you so. My pretty little agent. My friend. يا روحي."

That. Had come unexpected.

Stone whined and surged upward, drawing the other into a desperate kiss. The doctor speaking his native tongue had always been exquisite torture for him. And those words. Never had Stone dared to hope...

He climbed further into his boss' arms, further and further, until he toppled the man over and once more landed on top of him.

"Oof! Argh! Really!", the doctor exclaimed around insistent lips.

Stone paused then.

"What is it now?"

He blinked and sat up: "I'll be back in a moment." With those exact same words the doctor had used, he stumbled awkwardly off the bed and hastened to exit the bedroom. From behind him he could hear his boss shouting in exasperation.

"WHAT THE HELL, ABAN!"

He very nearly turned around on the spot.

But for the doctor to have him the way Stone wanted to be had, so so badly, they needed... consumables.

On shaky legs and with opened trousers haphazardly pulled back up, he hurried to his own bedroom. It took him only a few seconds to reach his night-stand and fish his bottle of pleasure oil from all the way back in the lower drawer. His trophy in hand, he pivoted on his heel and rushed back to the doctor's bedroom.

Where he was caught by the man himself.

Stone had barely set a foot across the threshold when a strong hand grabbed his arm, pulled him to the side and slammed the door back shut. Locking it. Robotnik turned toward him then: "I did not permit you to leave."

Grinning happily despite the dangerous tone of voice, Stone let himself be manhandled. Once more shoved against the door and held there by the doctor's body, a wonderful place to be, really, he simply kissed the man - not deterred by the man's mood in the slightest.

He raised the bottle of oil and wriggled it: "Had to fetch this. Please use it as you see fit." Not waiting for any response, he leaned forward again, wrapped his arms around the doctor's neck and smothered him in more kisses. He'd never have enough of those!

Robotnik reached back over his shoulder to take the bottle, turned his head - with Stone simply transferring his kisses to the man's cheek - and identified the item: "'Smooth Operator', really, Aban?"

Stone nearly snorted a laugh: "It was funny!" It was.

The doctor shook his head and rolled his eyes but also canted his hips forward to arrest Stone with a thigh between the agent's legs: "I'm sure I would have been able to procure something from my bathroom, you breakaway."

"This is better", Stone promised and shut down any further complaints by means of more kisses. His palms slid down his boss' shoulders and arms, to blindly fumble open the doctor's slacks. "Now have at me. Please." He couldn't care less about coming off as too desperate.

More than ten years had he yearned for this.

When his fingers brushed against the doctor's cock he could not say for sure who moaned louder. Encouraged he pulled it from its confines and stroked.

Robotnik's head dropped to his shoulder with a heartfelt groan. In what Stone suspected was retaliation, the man began to kiss and nibble on his neck. It tickled and tingled in the best of ways making him angle his head to lean against the doctor's. He wiped his thumb softly over the man's tip.

"Okay that was enough dawdling!"

Stone yelped, high-pitched, as the doctor suddenly stood back upright and finished divesting him of his slacks before undressing himself. They were both fully naked then, a realisation that had the agent blushing all over. He was left with no time to admire the doctor, though, because Robotnik immediately crowded him back against the door and gathered the agent's thighs around his hips.

By reflex he clung to his boss' shoulders despite having been in no danger of falling - trapped deliciously between Robotnik's body and the door.

"Si~r...", he whined simply because he could not help it.

"Shut up", the doctor huffed without any bite, distracted because while he used his hips and chest to keep his henchman where he was, he was also busy squeezing pleasure oil onto his fingers, "Now, when's the last time you did this?"

For a split second Stone considered teasing his boss. He was relatively sure Robotnik simply wanted to assure he would not be hurt, possibly, probably, but it had sounded a tiny bit jealous too. Which Stone absolutely enjoyed. Unfortunately, he was not exactly in possession of all of his faculties so he only grinned and felt himself blushing even harder: "Well... with another person? Going on ten years. On my own, ehrm, eh..."

"Spit it out", Robotnik groused and thrust his hips up for good measure, "We've been wasting enough time as it is."

"Just last night..."

The doctor's expression required no words spoken.

Stone buried his face into his boss' neck, embarrassed: "You were wearing the maroon suit..." He had. For a meeting in the city centre Stone barely remembered the reason of because all his memory would recall was seeing the doctor in that hot, hot ensemble.

"Does everything I do turn you on, agent?"

"..."

Robotnik sighed deeply and rolled his eyes: "Why am I even annoyed...?"

Stone chuckled: "I love you, sir."

"FINE!", the doctor barked and reached behind the agent: "No foreplay. As punishment for objectifying me." He grinned playfully, making Stone shudder in anticipation. Would it be beneficial to his planned rapture if he begged? Or, begged more? Or would the doctor use it as a chance to tease him more, to delay?

Damn.

Stone gasped loudly when he felt slippery fingers between his buttocks.

Oh! Yes! Yes, please!

"Status, agent?"

Oh he would perish from that teasing tone! "Peachy." Nngh~! Inside! The doctor's fingers were inside of him! Was he dreaming? His body was singing with pleasure.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive!", Stone moaned and arched his back. When the doctor set up a slow thrusting rhythm, curving his fingers just so, he hit his head back against the door and winced. Because yes that had hurt a bit but oh~! The doctor's fingertips were rubbing just the right spot.

Feeling silly over his surprise because OF COURSE that brilliant, brilliant man would be an expert at this too, Stone could hardly deal with how much he adored his boss.

Lacking finesse though uncaring about that, he gathered Robotnik into another kiss. He moaned with every brush over his prostate. "Sir", he begged, "Please..." The maestro was taking too long. He needed more! Now!

"Still impatient?", the doctor spoke against his lips.

"Yes, sir, please..."

"Well, I promised no foreplay", Robotnik conceded as he withdrew his fingers, "And I'm also reaching my limits in patience so be glad for that."

Stone nodded obediently, not fully clear what they were talking about any longer. All he wanted was the doctor.

He nearly squeaked when he was lifted a bit higher, the shove having come entirely unexpected. He wrapped his arms around his boss' neck and marvelled at the other's strength. Stone wasn't exactly a light-weighted man even if he was shorter than the doctor. Years of physical training had left him with a lot of muscles. But Robotnik had the advantage of height and even more years of lugging around very heavy machines and robotic-equipment so, he may have been a lab-rat, but he was a very fit lab-rat - and Stone was regularly losing his mind over that hotness.

He felt the doctor changing his stance and nearly laughed when he heard muffled grousing about age and knees.

To offer distraction, he kissed his boss all over again. Oh he would never be able to live without those kisses! Not when he had finally had a taste!

Then he gasped sharply, moaning into the doctor's lips.

Oh god!

Ooohh~!

"Would you cease your whining, agent?"

This time he could not help the huff of laughter. He felt the doctor's harsh breath puffing against his jaw, heard him grunting in effort as he slowly sank into him.

"Fu~ck!"

Stone let his head thud back against the door. He listened to Robotnik's endless grumbling, hopelessly enamoured, while he felt the pressure coming steadily. The position the doctor kept him in was a bit strenuous but he would bite off his tongue before he would call it quits. His shoulders and thighs could be screaming at him all they wanted, he never wanted to be anywhere else.

"Will you stop wriggling!"

Not possible. The doctor was going too slow and Stone needed him fully embedded as soon as possible. He writhed his hips down, ignoring the enraged "ACK!", and locked his ankles behind the maestro's butt to keep him from pulling away.

"This will have consequences, agent!"

Oh god yes please! "Angh~!"

The doctor had thrust upward. Hard.

"Still peachy, Aban?"

Oh~ yes! Honestly, if the doctor kept calling him by his name, he would come. Despite the rough pace Robotnik had set up. Oh scratch it, Stone was loving that too. Every moment of it. "Si~r!"

"Oh fuck it! You're too heavy for this! I'm not exactly young anymore!"

Stone laughed into their kiss and changed his weight to get his feet back onto the ground - moaning unhappily when he felt the doctor slipping from him. His plan had been to herd the man back to bed and ride him to completion. He didn't even get to take a single step.

"Where do you think you're going, agent?", Robotnik growled ominously.

"I-!"

"Not a chance!", the doctor grinned evilly, making Stone's pulse pick up and his cock twitch in arousal, "Turn around. We're not done here, agent."

"Ye-!"

"Too slow", Robotnik leered and manhandled a very willing henchman around, slamming him face-first back against the door, "There you go. Good boy."

Stone shivered all over, putting up no fight at all. The doctor's body was a hot wall of engineer-muscles behind him, pressing close. This was paradise. "Sir", he whined, hoping to get his boss to hurry up.

His attempt at looking back over his shoulder was swiftly prevented when Robotnik shoved his face forward, ending with Stone's cheek squished against the door. "Bouge pas."

Oh he would never!

But he moaned loudly, possibly a bit high-pitched, when the doctor grabbed his hip and angled it to his liking. His voice only escalated from there. In one expertly calculated shove, Robotnik thrust back into him. To the hilt. And writhed his hips where he was so deeply buried. Stone sobbed, face still squished against the door but absolutely indifferent to that.

He moaned and shivered. This feeling of being entirely at the doctor's mercy was... exhilarating. He had hardly any leeway to move. And the maestro was slowly, emphatically moving inside of him. So perfect. So, so perfect. Stone groaned and just melted against the door.

"Status, agent", Robotnik grunted right into his ear - thankfully similarly affected.

"Hhnn~", Stone answered eloquently.

"I don't like to repeat myself", the doctor whispered, lips pressed against the shell of his ear, "Status, Aban."

Stone actually cried out when a particularly hard thrust almost lifted him off his feet: "Doctor!"

"Wrong." Robotnik seemed to take great satisfaction from his incoherence. He altered his angle and with his next push inside, Stone squeaked and grappled for hold at the door and veritably trembled because the doctor had brushed past that spot.

Fuck!

"Mmmmh, did that feel good? Yes, Aban?" The man repeated the move to much the same result. Stone sobbed. "Are you feeling good? Too good to answer me, Aban?"

"Docto~r..."

The tingling sensation in his belly was shooting sparks of pleasure through his entire body. Every rough slide of the doctor into him had him seeing stars and gasping and generally falling apart. His own cock hang angry and neglected between his legs, trying its best to not get squished against the door. One breath sighed into its direction would set him off. He would come. Like a comet.

"You're trembling, Aban", the doctor kept whispering into his ear, "Are you close?"

F~uck!

Yes! Oh god, yes!

"Doctor..."

The hand holding his face still did not move, but Robotnik slid his other hand around his hip to his weeping dick. He had barely made contact with it, still thrusting his hips into Stone, when the agent came. From one moment to the next. No warning.

The vibrating tangle of pleasure exploded into every fibre of his body - shaking him. He moaned and cried out, slipping a bit, jerking arrhythmically on the doctor's cock. He spilled over his boss' fingers. His heart was beating so hard inside of his chest he feared he would black out. His lungs heaved.

He might have whined, endlessly. About the doctor in general, his love for him, and a dozen things he could not remember.

Robotnik felt like a furnace behind him. A safe, sexy, hot, hot and wonderful furnace. Stone rejoiced when he distantly noticed him losing his meticulous rhythm, grinding erratically into him. So, so deep and toe-curling-ly exquisite. Stone positively mewled when the doctor's face pressed into the back of his neck, huffing wildly.

A moment later, Stone writhed his hips and felt a stripe of warm, wet liquid running down the inside of his thigh.

The knowledge that his cherished doctor had come inside of him had him moaning and shuddering all over.

Robotnik sighed breathlessly into the spot behind his ear: "Really, Aban..." He righted himself, standing to his full height without taking his lips from the sensitive spot of skin. "You're such a delectable, beautiful little freak... habibi."

"Oh god, docto~r..."

*

DR. ROBOTNIK:

The water from the shower felt good. Really good. And the weight of his agent resting in his arms, head tucked beneath his chin, felt good, too. And so expectedly right. He rubbed his palms up and down Stone's back, feeling more than hearing him humming sleepily.

"You good, Aban?"

"Mmmh."

He scratched his fingers softly through his henchman's hair, relishing in the shudder he earned from the gesture. He kissed the top of his head. "Should we order dinner?"

"No", Stone murmured, sounding half-asleep, "I'll make dinner. In a moment."

Lowering his voice, he hoped he sounded both soft but also strict: "You do not have to. We could order in."

His agent's arms lifted a bit higher, squeezing his waist. A tight hug. "No. I want to make dinner. For you."

"If you're sure."

"'m sure. Love you."

The rumble that arose from his chest had not been entirely planned but well, he loved his agent too. So. Whatever. "Good boy."

His barnacle wriggled happily deeper into his arms.

After a long moment of, yes, okay, snuggling beneath the water spray, his henchman spoke up again - drowsy but awake and a bit amused: "Isn't it weird that your grandfather, the relict from the fifties, has more problems with Sage's parents not being married than with them being two men?"

He approved of his sycophant not having chosen more ambiguous words. Because they were the truth. They were Sage's parents. Full stop.

"Don't ask.... I have no idea....."

*

PROF. ROBOTNIK:

It took more than 90 minutes for his grandson and the agent to come back down. Freshly showered. The signs could not have been more obvious.

And though both men kept to the kitchen, the gay-boy starting with dinner preparations and Ivo making himself a coffee, Gerald saw it clearly.

He had won.

His plan had worked.

Without attracting attention, he leaned to the side to whisper to his great-granddaughter: "I think we did it, child."

"Yeah", Sage nodded while never lifting his eyes from her murder-globe, "Now papa only has to ask Abby to marry him."

"WE CAN HEAR YOU!"

END