Book titles, unfortunately, were made up of words. That made them unruly. Words had to be stored as character arrays, and that made them hard to sort. That was one reason numbers were superior. If books had numbers instead of titles, Metal could have used integers as his sort key. Well technically, book titles did come with ISBNs, but he couldn't use those to sort by. Then only he could have understood the sorting mechanism, and he had to consider Sonic's needs.

He always considered Sonic's needs.

So Metal was left with the next best thing. To manage his growing collection of books, Metal sorted them in alphabetical order. Search through an ordered set of strings could be done in log₂(n) time. This made his bookshelf optimal.

He took a step backward from the bookshelf and admired his work. While it was hardly a personal library, his small collection of titles contained considerable variety. There were histories, biographies, encyclopedias, dictionaries, popular non-fiction, popular fiction, literary works, and more. And he had read them all too, turned each page carefully, as if they were made of gold leaf, and then stored them back on his bookshelf in the proper order.

There was a knock at the door.

"Mets?"

"Sonic—! Ah, just a moment." Metal quickly grabbed a book from the shelf and sat down in the worn, upholstered chair next to his bookshelf. He flipped it open. "You may come in."

With a soft click, the door opened slowly to reveal Sonic's muscular form and perfect smile.

"Hey!" Sonic walked into the room, glancing briefly at the bookshelf. "Got everything the way you want it?"

Without looking up from the book, Metal said, "Ah, yes. This bookshelf was an ideal addition to this room. My collection of literature is coming along quite well."

"I think it's nice," Sonic agreed. "Adds a lot of you to the room."

He walked over and leaned onto the chair. "Reading anything good?"

Since Sonic had said that, Metal now had to actually read the book in front of him. He squinted down. Stamped inside the book's glossy pages were images of perfectly cooked Spagonian cuisine.

He held the book up so Sonic could see. "Yes. I am learning of the local culture."

Sonic hummed with interest. "Looks good."

He glanced down at Metal. "But why read up on 'em if you can't eat? Unless..." He smirked. "Mets, are you gonna cook for me?"

Metal looked up over the edge of his book, hoping his expression didn't give away the eager hint in his voice. "Do you wish for me to cook for you? I suppose it is the only way for me to validate my technique."

Sonic blinked, looking surprised at first, then chuckled. "I mean, I'm sure you'd be great at it if you did."

Metal quickly flipped to the next page. Now he was in trouble. Now he had to find a recipe.

He had to live up to Sonic's words.

"Then I shall give it a try. I believe I have a local Spagonian recipe I would like to attempt."

"Sure!" Sonic gave a reassuring thumb's up. "Go for it!"

Metal gave Sonic a quick nod then stood up by rolling his weight onto the back of his feet. He slid the cookbook under his arm and head back downstairs to the kitchen.

Sonic's kitchen may be small, but Metal already had it organized. He placed the book along the counter and flipped back to the recipe with one hand while he reached for a frying pan with the other.

Sonic had followed behind him, taking a seat at the table in the kitchen.

"Mind if I watch?"

Metal tightened his grip on the panhandle. "This would be acceptable."

So not only would Sonic eat his meal, but he would also be watching Metal cook it.

There was no pressure.

Metal set the pan on the range and turned up the heat. He could ask Sonic how he wanted his steak, but it would be more impressive if Metal got it right without any input.

And Metal already knew everything Sonic liked anyway.

So he waited. And he waited. And eventually, the pan got hot enough.

Using a fork, he slid a raw, red steak onto the pan.

There was a small creak from the chair behind Metal, presumably as Sonic started leaning back on it.

"Have you ever cooked before, Mets?"

Metal took half a step backward, watching the steak sizzle.

"I have not. It is an odd experience. Most people use their sense of taste or smell to judge the readiness of food, but I lack such senses."

He continued to stare at the steak. He could see the steam bubble against the pan, hear it hissing, but he would never smell it.

Sonic was silent for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was fond.

"You don't need those kinds of senses. You're cool enough the way you are."

Metal continued to stare at the steak. Then, in a single, smooth motion, he slid it from the pan onto a plate.

He turned to Sonic. "But it is not a matter of coolness. It is a matter of experience. There is a whole dimension of the world I will never experience simply because I am...well, because I am me."

"Yeah, but you're still way better than any average mobian," Sonic argued. "You're smarter too. I bet you wouldn't be the same person if you were born as a mobian instead."

He hesitated. "Besides, I mean...I owe you a lot. I don't know where I'd be right now if you hadn't come along."

For a single instant, Metal met Sonic's gaze. There was kindness there, an understanding. And yet, there was more than that too. There was a sense of kinship, of shared experience. For now Sonic was as much an outcast as was Metal, and the words Sonic spoke were coming from a place of fundamental honesty.

"...Thank you," Metal said quietly. He slid the steak in front of Sonic.

Sonic beamed. "You're welcome."

He stared at the steak then glanced over at a power outlet near the table. He gestured to the other seat. "I know it's not really the same, but you could sit over there and charge while I eat?"

Metal picked up a fork and carefully turned it over in his hand, running his finger across the smooth tines.

Then he quietly took a seat across from Sonic, looking up from the fork just long enough to spare Sonic a fleeting glance.

"Yes, this is a sufficient idea," Metal said, plugging himself into the wall. "We are both refueling in our own way. It may be a different experience, but the end result is the same."

He pressed the fork between his palms. "And we may do it together."

Sonic nodded, satisfied, then raised a hand, gesturing for the fork.

Metal glanced at the fork. He could technically just pass it to Sonic. That would be simplest. And yet…

Sonic did always enjoy making a game of things.

"Sonic," Metal tossed the fork into the air. "Catch!"

For a moment, Sonic leaned forward, mouth opening just slightly. Unlike the last time with the bone though, he caught the fork in his fist.

Sonic flushed just slightly, shaking his head and focusing back on his food. He grabbed a nearby knife to go with his fork. He was awkward with both utensils at first as if he needed a second to get used to the feel of them in his larger hands.

He ungracefully cut off a piece of the steak, a piece that seemed large even for him.

He lifted it with the fork and stared at it, as if in a debate with himself, then gingerly bit into it.

The medium-well steak held strong in its almost rubbery texture. It looked hard to chew, but that didn't last long. Sonic growled almost animalistically as he tore at the piece.

Metal hesitated.

"Sonic?" Metal asked. "How is the steak?"

Sonic swallowed the piece of steak then met Metal's gaze. "It's great!" He paused, staring at Metal oddly. "What's that look for?"

"I am studying your response to gather feedback for my own technique. I assume you are enjoying it, given the manner in which you are eating it."

"The way I'm eating it?" Sonic echoed, his gaze turning somewhat sheepish. "What do you mean?"

"You are eating in a similar manner to a dog," Metal said.

"...Ah," Sonic replied quietly. His eyes darted away from Metal, down to the plate, then to the wall. Metal glanced over to the same wall, but there was nothing of interest there, and so he did not understand.

Sonic cleared his throat, letting out a chuckle. There was a certain, uncanny force to it. "It's just that great I guess!"

He looked back down at the plate, readying his hands to continue eating. Yet, the silverware didn't come into contact with the steak again.

Sonic sat perfectly still, his expression wavering. He then set the fork and knife down on the plate, letting his hands rest on the table.

His fingers twitched.

Finally, he pushed his seat back and stood up. He took the plate in his hands, giving Metal an unusual smile.

"I, uh, think I'll finish it in my room though. Let you charge in peace, y'know?"

He turned away, calling over his shoulder as he walked off, "I'll wash the pan for you later!"

"Sonic?" Metal called out to him. But either Sonic didn't hear him or he wasn't listening because Sonic kept going until he disappeared against the staircase.

Metal then simply sat there for a moment. What had been that reaction? It certainly wasn't anything Metal had expected. Why would Sonic react so poorly to a logical exchange? He had asked Metal a question, and Metal had answered with his observations. That was enough, wasn't it?

Wasn't it?

Metal skidded over to the staircase, peering over it with one hand on the railing.

"Sonic?"

Still no response.

Metal headed up the stairs. The door to Sonic's room was slightly ajar. Metal stepped toward it.

Inside, Sonic was sitting on his bed, back facing Metal. His plate was sitting awkwardly in his lap, and the pieces of steak had been cut so finely that any piece could be swallowed without chewing.

Metal's optics widened. He stood with his hand on the doorknob so delicately it was as if the door were made of glass.

"S-sonic?" Metal whispered.

Sonic's ear flickered, but he didn't turn around.

"Yeah? Need something?" His voice was lacking enthusiasm.

The sight of the steak made the fans inside Metal's chest feel faint and weak as if he were falling. He could almost hear his own voice speaking.

You are eating in a similar manner to a dog.

"Sonic," Metal hesitated then stepped into the room. "I-I should not have said that. I am sorry."

Sonic didn't speak for an agonizingly long time.

Finally, he sighed. "...Nah. Don't worry about it, Mets. You were just telling me the truth."

"No. It is unacceptable." Metal was standing behind Sonic now, so close he could see the plate over Sonic's shoulder. "I should not have said it so bluntly. I should have—should have…"

There was always more to the truth.

"I should have been honest with you about what happened in the broadcast station. I mean, it was not so different from what happened in Holoska but—"

Metal shook his head. "I have been inconsistent in my honesty with you."

Sonic let out a soft grunt. He mindlessly stabbed at a piece of steak then stopped. He held his silverware in one hand, then lifted the plate with the other and dumped the plate back, the remaining pieces of steak dropping into his mouth.

He swallowed. "It's fine, Mets. I get it."

He stood up, going over to one of his drawers. He opened it and pulled out the glimmering Chaos Emerald.

Sonic stared at it, back still facing Metal. Cupping his hands over it, he steeled himself up.

A moment passed. Suddenly, a small jolt of electricity surrounded Sonic's body, causing his fur to fluff up. Nothing else happened.

Sonic sighed, setting the Emerald back into the drawer. "'Least I didn't get burned this time."

Metal stiffened. It wasn't that he had all of Sonic's data, nor was it the fact he had known Sonic for a long time. It was the fact that Sonic was his dearest friend. That was what gave it away. For Metal knew that posture, knew that tone, knew that face.

If ever Sonic needed him, it was now.

He stepped up to Sonic's side. "May I see your hand?"

Sonic turned his head to Metal then shrugged. He offered Metal his hand.

"The bandages are still fine if that's what you're worried about."

Metal took Sonic's hand into his own. It had massive weight and bulk, and just one of Sonic's hands completely dwarfed both of Metal's own.

He traced his fingertips against the edge of Sonic's bandage. "The integrity of the material is secure. But—"

His fingers brushed the edge of the fur along Sonic's wrist.

"It is your fur. The Emerald's discharge must have slightly charged your fur as if with static."

"Yeah." Sonic tried to brush down his own fur with his free hand, to no avail.

Metal hesitated. This approach wasn't working.

"You need something with the opposite charge to take the static away. Like so—"

Delicately, he ran his fingers against the fur along the top of Sonic's wrist, smoothing it flat.

Sonic watched quietly, his eyes occasionally darting over to Metal.

His mouth opened once, but he immediately shut it.

Metal cupped his hands around Sonic's wrist. The fur there was smooth and warm and oddly delicate. It was like Sonic himself in that way—protective and strong, and yet not unkindly.

"You told me what I said back in the kitchen was the truth. But was it really? I think, perhaps, it was not."

Metal moved closer to Sonic, trailing his hands up Sonic's bicep. "Being abandoned by the doctor, getting to know you better...these things have been disorienting. I have doubted myself and doubted my purpose. It has been difficult to process this.

"But I have learned—thanks to you, might I add—that my models from before, my worldview...while they may not be directly wrong, they were too simplistic. They were so simple as to not be useful."

Metal stepped even closer, now resting his hands against Sonic's shoulders. "So to call you an animal is not the truth. It is no more true than my purpose being to serve the doctor. An interpretation of facts perhaps, but not the truth.

"And what is the truth, the honest, absolute truth—" Metal placed his hand against Sonic's chest. Sonic's heartbeat was firm and rhythmic, as precise as a harmonic function itself. "—is that you are still Sonic the Hedgehog. You are not an animal."

Metal then threw his hands around Sonic and pressed his forehead into the smooth fur of Sonic's chest in an embrace.

Sonic stiffened. "M-metal..."

His hands reached up for Metal, but he stopped halfway. "You really don't see me that way? Even after all of the stuff that's been happening?"

"I do not see you that way at all. In fact—"

Metal pulled back from the hug, now standing just a few centimeters away from Sonic. "I will not lie. When I first discovered your new form and all of its...associated concerns, I was deeply afraid.

"But now," Metal averted his gaze, "I do not see you that way at all. You are one of my very dearest friends, and I know there is nothing to fear from you. I would trust you with my very existence."

"I'd trust you too," Sonic replied, voice warmer than before. "Just...I feel bad about all that feral stuff I couldn't control. Hurting you the first time was worse, but..."

When Metal looked back, Sonic was flushing.

"I-I figured that all the cuddling I did before would've at least made you too uncomfortable."

"Ah—" Now that was a dilemma. The cuddling did not, in fact, make Metal uncomfortable. Truth be told, he wouldn't say no to more of it.

And yet that was also still not entirely true.

"It did not make me uncomfortable, no." Metal brushed the top of his own head. "If hypothetically speaking, it were to happen again, I would be open to accepting those circumstances."

"Open?" Sonic echoed.

He pursed his lips, presumably thinking over the strict friendliness of Metal's reply.

Then he smirked. "So, if I hugged you right now, you wouldn't mind?"

Metal looked up. Sonic's room was utterly silent around them. The faint, fading sunlight from outside scattered inside in thin lines from Sonic's window.

Then Metal set his hand on Sonic's chest. "I would be open to accepting these circumstances, yes."

Sonic gently grabbed Metal's hand off his chest, holding it gently. "Good."

With his other hand, Sonic pulled Metal into a deep hug. Sonic's fur brushed the sides of Metal's cheeks.

"Thanks, Mets."

A soft beep escaped Metal. His hands trailed up Sonic's back, and he pressed his palms into Sonic's fur. The weight of Sonic's head rested like a pillow against his own.

"And thanks to you as well, Sonic."

Sonic tightened the hug, assuring Metal that he had heard, then pulled back. He was beaming. But then he noticed his fur was still sticking up, and he frowned. He turned back to Metal with a smirk. "Would you be open to fixing the rest of my fur too?"

Metal leaned backward, shifting himself along the other side of Sonic's body. "I suppose I cannot leave the job half finished after all."

Metal worked his fingers back into Sonic's fur.

Sonic shuddered at first—perhaps Metal's hands were cold?—then sat back on his bed to give Metal a better reach. He averted his gaze but still offered his arm for Metal to smooth out.

Metal held Sonic's forearm in both his hands, smoothing the fur with the back of his hand. The room was utterly silent, and yet Metal could think of nothing more to say.

The silence was cut by a low rumbling sound. At first, it seemed to come out of nowhere, but as Metal listened, he found the source.

It was coming from Sonic.

Metal completely stopped. For a moment, he simply stood there.

Then he finally said, "S-sonic?"

Sonic blushed, the noise stopping as he choked it back. "U-uh—"

He shook his head as if he had been in a daze. "W-was that me? I…I didn't mean to. It just..."

"You just…" Metal trailed off. He was still holding Sonic's forearm, and he looked down at it. "Was that...you...purring?"

Sonic's blush spread further across his face. "I-I guess?" he asked. "Sorry. It must be this feral thing. Maybe I can choke it back? It was just..."

He stared down at Metal's hands on his forearm. "Y-you're really good at that."

"Ah yes, well, there is no cause for alarm. It is simply a noise. There is no reason to…" Metal smoothed another patch of fur. "You think I am good at this?"

Sonic nodded sheepishly. "Yeah? I mean, I just always thought it was amazing, you know? You're a robot, but you're so gentle and you do things so perfectly."

"You truly think so? You do not think I am...well, ah—"

Metal set Sonic's arm back down then turned away. "I suppose that is not how one should respond to a compliment. I vowed I would respond to you with more grace than I did earlier, so...so I suppose I have no choice."

Metal looked up, meeting Sonic's gaze directly. "Thank you."

Sonic grinned, a few of his fangs showing. "You're welcome, Mets."

"Indeed. Well then. Perhaps I should smooth the fur on your back next? I believe I got most of this side."

"What, like..." Sonic blinked. A bit of pink was still on his face. "My back quills?"

Sonic's reaction was atypical. Why was he so concerned about his back quills? Unless—

A constant internet connection did have certain advantages, and it took but a single query for Metal to find an answer.

He could feel the bottom of this optical screen growing warm.

"I-if you would rather I not—" Metal stammered.

Surprisingly, Sonic leaped to correct him. "No!"

He flushed. "I mean...it's fine. I—uh—I'm sure you'll be good with 'em."

"But—" Metal left the rest unsaid. His research told the rest of the story. There was a certain level of intimacy associated with a hedgehog's back quills and—

And Sonic's feral form did consider Metal his mate.

The warmth in Metal's optical screen turned into a full blush. "W-well, if you insist—"

He reached his hand forward. He braced himself. He would be petting Sonic's back quills. They would be warm like the rest of Sonic's marvelous fur, and Sonic would probably purr again.

A piercing, grinding whine escaped Metal's hands.

Metal stopped.

Sonic's ears perked. Immediately, he grabbed Metal's hand in his own.

"What was that? Are you okay?"

Metal tried to clench his fingers, but his hand remained limp. "This? It is nothing serious. My motors have not been working optimally as of late, and it probably needs only a readjustment. It is nothing that I cannot handle."

And yet, Sonic's quills were still fluffed.

"Yeah?"

Sonic frowned, staring down at Metal's hand. "Is this because you're still missing that important part? You'll keep needing little repairs until then?"

Metal pulled his hand back and laid it limply against his other wrist. "That is correct. It is nothing so serious but these minor repairs will have to continue until proper maintenance is finished."

Sonic squinted, his eyes still on Metal's hand. Finally, he looked up, his expression becoming calm.

"So you'll be alright if I step out for a while?"

Metal looked up. "Yes, but...you are leaving?"

He eyes Sonic's quills. "Why?"

"Gotta ask Tails for a favor," Sonic explained simply. He stood, his gaze resolute. "I'll be back later."

He placed a hand on Metal's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. Then he headed out the door.

Sonic's quills were naturally the last thing Metal saw, and they were still frizzy. Metal could have fixed that. It would have been easy. Sonic would have turned around, and Metal would sink his fingers deep into Sonic's fur. It would be warm, and Metal would smooth out each and every strand with delicate care.

But no, Sonic was gone now, and Metal was left here alone. The opportunity had walked out the door with Sonic. So now how was Metal supposed to know what might have happened? Maybe, after he had smooth out Sonic's quills, Sonic would be purring, and he would turn around. He would scoop Metal up and set him in his lap, similar to his feral state. He would hold Metal there, and then he would bring Metal close. So close to his muzzle. And then Sonic's lips would—

Metal lurched forward. He was in the hallway. Without looking backward, he slammed Sonic's door and leaned his back against it.

What was he thinking?

Metal stared at his hands.

He knew very well what he had been thinking.