~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ S ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When Robotnik next startles awake, the room around him is dark and quiet.
That, above all else, is why he immediately knows that he is not at the lab right then. The lab is never really dark, never really silent; there is always some emergency lighting on, or a machine humming lowly. Always life around him at all times. This, this feels like waking up in a grave.
Why is he here? Robotnik wonders blearily while fighting to room around and sit up. he can't remember; can't even really think. It is too hot to think, and the room is spinning, and... he should be working, yes. He shouldn't be here. What is he doing, sleeping like this? He has work to do; deadlines to meet; mind-numbing meetings to attend. He cannot slack off now of all times, those pentagoons are just waiting that he shows any weakness, are hoping from a slipup from him so they can pounce on it and rear into him, those vultures...
Sitting up takes much longer than it should have by any rights. His body seems to refuse to cooperate with him, and his arms feel weak and gooey when he attempts to push himself up. It takes him several tries until he is upright, and by then he is already breathing heavily through his open mouth, feeling as if he has climbed a mountain just now. The entire room is spinning around him, and he is shivering and burning up at the same time, but he can't let that stop him. With shaking hands, he begins to pull at the blanket wrapped tightly around him. It sticks to him like a second skin, soaked with sweat and so, so hot, and in his bleary state, he can't seem to untangle himself from it. He tugs and tugs, until there is the sound of tearing, and still he is stuck. His frustration burst out of him in a shout, which turns into a series of violent coughs which shake his entire body.
"Doctor?"
The light clicks on, sudden and bright, and if Robotnik had the air to shout, he would have done so in protest. The light stings, and he glowers through tearing eyes at the reason for the sudden brightness.
Stone takes one look at him, tangled in a blanket while sweaty and delirious, and his entire face crumbles in worry. With two quick strides, the agent is across the room and at Robotnik's side, gently taking him by the shoulders and manoeuvring him back into the middle of the bed. The opposite of where the doctor wanted to go, and he immediately begins to resist, but finds he is too weak to do anything against Stone, who is as unmovable as... well, a stone.
And he is still talking, too, "What are you doing, you could have called if you needed to..."
"Work," Robotnik interrupts. Since resisting physically does not work, he will have to make his assistant see reason verbally. "I need to go to work, Stone, why...why am I not working right now? I should be, I..."
The hands on his shoulders squeeze tight, only once, before gentling into a near caress. "Doctor," Stone's voice has lost some of its frantic energy, shifting into something quieter, kinder. "You don't have to work right now."
The mere thought is so far removed from reality, so incredibly weird, that it makes Robotnik bark out a laugh which ends on a sharp cough. "Nonsense. I always have - always have work, I can't… laze around like this, I got to..."
"Doctor..."
This is getting him nowhere; he doesn't have time for this. Attempting to shove Stone's hands of his shoulder and get up, Robotnik snarls in displeasure when he finds his assistant to be unrelenting, and he begins to struggle to the best of his currently limited abilities. Physically overpowering the doctor might have been easy, but Stone is hampered by his own unwillingness to hurt him. They struggle briefly, an awkward affair altogether, before Robotnik nearly manages to escape and Stone is forced to change tactics. Instead of attempting to hold the doctor back by the shoulders, the agent sighs, mutters something akin to an apology, and simply throws his arms around the other, using his entire body to keep the doctor still before he can hurt himself.
The moment they touch, Robotnik freezes and stops resisting entirely. Not because of the careful yet unyielding grip on him; no, mostly because Stone is solid, not spinning right the rest of the room, and in comparison to the doctor's own burning skin, his sycophant is blessedly cool to the touch.
He should hate this. He should struggle even harder, more audibly, kick and yell and bite if necessary to get free, but instead he freezes and... slows down. Reassessing carefully, blinking slowly, Robotnik angles his head until he can tuck his face into the crook of Stone's neck, and simply - becomes deadweight right there, resting his entire weight against his assistant. He thinks he feels Stone freeze, tensing up beneath him, but he ignores it in favour of pressing closer, releasing a ragged sigh. That is much better. At least Stone does what he should do, and stays still and solid and comfortable, not like the rest of the reality seems to be doing right now.
"I really," he mutters part of him still hung up on the same topic, "really should get to work."
The solidness beneath him shifts when Stone takes a deep breath, or sighs, or both. Something settles over the back of Robotnik's neck - a palm, cool and solid. "No, you really shouldn't," Stone insists with the same gentleness firmness from before.
"I don't want to."
The words are out of his mouth before Robotnik realizes he has thought them. He can't even bring himself to regret them, or try and take them back. He means it wholeheartedly. For the first time ever, he does not want to work. Or maybe it is simply the first time he has allowed himself to be honest about it.
The hand on his neck tightens. Not uncomfortable, simply grounding. "Then don't," Stone offers quietly. "You don't have to do anything right now, just... leave it all to me. Alright, doctor? I will take care of everything. Trust me."
More of those statements which seem so farfetched, so unreal. Leave it to me. Trust me. Neither of these things are something you say to Ivo Robotnik, genius and psychological tirefire extraordinaire. He is always the one who takes care of everything before anyone else can even hope to catch up. And trust? Is not a currency he deals in.
But. He's so tired, and it hurts so much. Can he really take a break? Leave some of it all to Stone while he does? He finds he wants to. Not be in charge, not having to do everything on his own. Just this once. Until the world stops spinning, and he can properly think again.
With another sigh, so deep as if all breath simply leaves him in one great gush, Robotnik nods, knocking his forehead against Stone's neck in the process.
"Good," Stone's voice is weak with relief. The hand on Robotnik's neck strokes up and down the doctor's back once, twice; the agent does not seem to notice that he is doing it. Carefully pushing the entirely limp Robotnik off his shoulder, Stone reaches past him, fiddling with something behind the genius. There is clinking and water gurgling, and then Stone urges Robotnik to look up, presenting him with a glass of water. "Here. Drink this, and then try to sleep some more. Alright? It will be fine. I promise."
Robotnik nods blearily. With the fight leaving him, all his energy has fled as well, and he moves on autopilot, following Stone's instructions without a hint of resistance. He lets his head be tipped back slightly so he can drink the strangely bitter water in small sips, having to stop every now and then to draw breath and cough a few times before continuing.
By the time the glass is empty, Robotnik feels even more tired than before - drugs in the water, a small voice of reason whispers at the back of his mind - and his eyes keep falling closed. He sways back without resistance when Stone urges him to lie back down again.
The blanket is tucked loosely around him, and there is pressure on the doctor's forehead - a hand, Robotnik notes blearily, forcing his eyes open once more to see Stone leaning over him. Even through his swimming vision, he can see the worry in the other's eyes; his sycophant is always too expressive around him, wide open and easy. Robotnik wants to tell him to stop looking at him like that, he's going to be fine, but his tongue is too heavy and he ends up on an unintelligible murmur.
Words or not, Stone understands that he is trying to speak, and shushes him, the brazen barnacle. The nerve. "It's alright, doctor. Just go to sleep."
Such a command should have offended him, but Robotnik can't muster up the energy. Sleep does sound like a great idea right now. Sometimes his assistant is really a genius in his own right.
Obedient for once in his life, Robotnik closes his eyes for good, and allows sleep to claim him once more. The last thing he is aware of is a hand stroking away the hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, and a comforting murmur of words.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ S ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wakefulness next returns to Robotnik only in slow increments. Gone is his usual quick jump-into-action way of waking; he has to fight his way back to the surface of consciousness this time, sleep refusing to let him go.
Once he finally manages to open his eyes and finds himself staring at a blank white ceiling, he needs several more seconds to piece together where he is and how he came to be here. Fragments return torturously slow to him – the cold, the accident in the lab, Stone taking him home. The entire embarrassment of disgracing himself in front of someone else, and needing help to even manage to get to his own bed. Annoyance wars with shame for a moment before Robotnik shakes both of with a quiet snarl, deciding bygones are bygones now. Stone is at least loyal enough not to lose a single word about all this to anyone else.
Throwing off the blanket tucked loosely around him, Robotnik makes to sit up, using the opportunity to take stock of his physical state. There is still an ache lingering in his limbs, and a persistent buzz of exhaustion thrumming in his entire body, but it has dulled somewhat. He is able to sit up without too much trouble, and while the room sways slightly around him, it does at least not spin like a carousel gone out of control.
Satisfied with the clear improvement for now, Robotnik pushes to his feet. His gaze strays over the organized mess of items on the night table, particularly the decanter of water, and he hums consideringly. He is positively parched, so his first order of the day is pouring himself a glass of water and downing it in slow gulps.
While he drinks, he listens for any kind of noise which could reveal to him where his assistant had gone off to. Not a peep can be heard from the rest of the house, and Robotnik raises an eyebrow. He doubts Stone would have left him here - it is impossible to shake the stubborn barnacle of on a good day, he can't imagine him meaning him to his own devices while he is down for the count
Some kind of blurry, distorted memory resurfaces from the depths of his mind, making him pause while he is about to set down the glass.
"You don't have to do anything right now."
Huh. Had that been part of the conversations yesterday? Robotnik racks his mind, but comes up with no recollection of any particular situation where these words had been uttered. Hmmm. There are some parts of the precious day which are blurrier and more filled with holes than the rest - the trip home, or the stop at the pharmacy - do maybe there had been something there... or it has been some weird kind of dream. He is usually lucid enough to remember those, but then, he is usually also not knocked straight into REM phase by a common cold.
It probably isn't important, anyway. Shaking his head, Robotnik goes on the hunt for his assistant.
The search does not take long. Robotnik only has to wander down the hallway toward the living room, stopping once until a wave of vertigo passes, to find what he is looking for:
Stone is easy enough to spot once the doctor turns the corner to the living room. His sycophant has shed suit jacket, cravat and shoes - the sight of him without them briefly makes Robotnik blink - and curled up on the couch, one arm behind his head as a makeshift pillow, with the other he is holding a tablet and reading something. Or, attempting to; he seems distracted by having to shift around to find a comfortable position, frowning every now and then and shifting around once kore but never quite figuring it out.
At the sight, Robotnik quirks a one-sided smirk. He knows from his own experiences that the couch is not exactly comfortable. Falling asleep on it and waking up with excruciating back pain has taught him as much. Looks like his sycophant has learned the same lesson right now.
Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, he snipes, "Do you often make yourself comfortable in other people's houses like this, Stone?"
Stone's head flies up, eyes briefly dark due to alarm, before he relaxes and a beaming smile spreads over his face. "Doctor!" He slides off the couch to stand up. For a moment it looks like he might cross the room towards the genius, but he holds himself back, crossing his arms behind his back while he stands still and straight. "How are you feeling?"
Such a question would usually only earn an eyeroll, if at all, from Robotnik, but in the face of Stone's eagerness, he finds it difficult to do so. "No longer as if my stomach will turn inside out at any given moment," he allows on a grumble. "And the fever has broken, it seems."
Even the clipped answers are enough to brighten Stone's face even more. "I'm very glad to hear it."
He really sounds like he means it, sincere as always. And as so often, Robotnik is not sure how to deal with this sincerity when it is directed at him. Looking for something to change the topic, his gaze lands on the abandoned tablet on the couch. "Something important come in while I was... occupied?"
"Ah," following his gaze, Stone bends to retrieve the device, and quickly swipes through it, tilting it so the doctor can watch the screen scroll by while he explains. "I was answering a few emails, and doing some rescheduling. Nothing too pressing came in during your absence, but I figured it is good to stay up to date."
The usual and nothing too important then. Still, Robotnik holds out his hand in a silent demand.
To his surprise, Stone does not immediately hand the tablet over as expected. Instead, the agent hesitates, pulling the device closer to his chest rather than holding it out. "Doctor, if I may…?"
Eyebrow jumping up, Robotnik decides that this little show of disobedience might actually be interesting and leans back once more, arms crossing. "Shoot."
"I think it would be beneficial for you to take today off as well," Stone speaks careful but sure, clearly having rehearsed the words beforehand. "Starting work too early and overexerting yourself could lead to a relapse, which could cause a setback in your recovery..."
Something like amused exasperation rises in the doctor's chest and he holds up one hand, effectively cutting the other off. "Stop it with the big words, Stone," he grumbles, smile twitching under his moustache. "You don't need them to try and convince me. I can figure out myself that it wouldn't be exactly... smart, to work like this."
Stone has been blinking slowly upon being interrupted, but while he listens, his expression brightens. "I agree, doctor."
"Of course you do," Robotnik grumbles without real heat, shooting the other a shrewd glance. "I would bet you already reschedule everything planned for today as well, didn't you? And with an eighty percent probability, everything for tomorrow as well."
A slightly sheepish smile flits over his agent's face before Stone catches it, schooling himself back into impassiveness. "It seemed like the most reasonable course of action."
"Uh-huh, sure" Robotnik mocks, snapping his fingers at the other. "Hand me that tablet, now – I might not be going into work, but I will at least find a way to occupy myself before my brain starts rotting from boredom."
Chuckling, Stone does not hesitate this time to handover the requested item, inquiring at the same time, "Would you like to try eating a light breakfast? I can wipe something up while you get up to date on things."
Pausing in his swiping, Robotnik turns that over in his head. His stomach seems settled by now, no nausea, and he is hungry. It has been more than a day since he has last eaten. Directing his gaze back to the screen with a grunt, he waves a flippant hand, "Yes, yes. Breakfast, right. Don't forget the latte; I'm experiencing withdrawal by now."
Already in the middle of turning towards the kitchen, Stone hesitates, then proposes, "Maybe we should leave the latte until we're sure you can stomach it?"
"Ugh. What are you, a sadist?" But he cannot deny the logic behind it. Groaning, Robotnik runs a hand through his hair and acquiesces "Fine. You better make some damn good breakfast as compensation, though."
"I will try my best," with a bright smile, Stone hurries away with quick strides.
Don't you always? Robotnik wants to call after him, but figures it might sound less mocking than he would like to. Shaking his head -overeager barnacle, really now - and turns on his heels to get back to the bedroom. Much as he dislikes it, he is still exhausted enough that even standing around here is sapping him of what little strength he has. For once, he opts to take his breakfast in bed.
Hah. Now that's something which will never happen again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ S ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Turns out Stone makes a mean breakfast. the guy can cook, Robotnik has to hand it to him; even something simple like porridge with fruit is absolutely delicious when his assistant is the one who makes it.
Doesn't stop him from grumbling over the lack of coffee to go with the entire time, however.
After breakfast, they quickly figure out an arrangement that works for both of them while they tackle their respective tasks. They both have their tablets, equipped with holoscreens by the doctor himself, and Stone brings his notes into the bedroom where Robotnik has set up camp. Easier to have him right there when the doctor needs a second set of eyes, rather than have to yell across the house for him, Robotnik explains curtly, pretending he does not notice the way Stone lights up.
They end up sitting across from each other on the bed, Robotnik propped up against the pillows and Stone leaning against the footend of it, both working away quietly at their tablets. While Stone deals with emails, typing protocols of past meetings, and sorts and documents old projects, Robotnik arranging a presentation for an upcoming meeting in a hurry - Stone will later dumb it down for the pentagoons' eyes - and then throws himself into the planning for current inventions. He can't do the practical, hands-on work from here, but he can at least look over the blueprints and make adjustments he will implement once he is back in the lab.
Time flies by while they work in companiable silence, only interrupting the silence every now and then to exchange some ideas on projects, or snide comments over a particularly stupid email from the higherups. They take a break only once, when Stone gets up around lunch and comes back with a rich, delicious smelling chicken broth and a plate of crackers. Robotnik accepts his own serving eagerly, and laughs at Stone when the agent serves himself the exact same thing. "Are you into torturing yourself unnecessarily, Stone?"
"what's good enough for you is also good enough for me," Stone replies readily, taking a delicate first sip of the hot broth.
In the face of such sincerity, the doctor fails to think of some further mockery, so he focuses on his own food instead. One, two spoonful in, he discovers that he is positively starving, and he wolves his own serving down greedily before Stone is even halfway through with his own.
Once they finished eating, Stone clears everything away, and they get back to work - or, half-work, as Robotnik has taken to calling it in his head. This kind of work is much less strenuous than his usual; no schedules, no deadlines, heck, he is even reclining in a bed. This is positively lazy in comparison to his usual.
And it's... nice, he allows himself to confess in a moment of... weakness, maybe. Or softness. Ugh, the fever must still be influencing his mind, he thinks with a shudder.
Of course, Stone notices even that tiny movement. He looks up from his tablet with a slight frown, worry already creeping into his eyes. "Everything alright, doctor? Is the fever returning?"
"No, no," Robotnik waves the question off. His assistant does not need to know about his brief lapse. Easily lying through his teeth, he adds, "Simply appalled by the stupidity of our government thanks to that email you forwarded me eight now."
The worry goes up in smoke, and Stone agrees with a snort, and a nod. Pleased that his distraction has worked, Robotnik pulls his tablet back up and keeps going.
The afternoon passes easily and quickly like this. Only When evening rolls around, the comfortable silence is interrupted by a low growl from Robotnik's stomach. Offended by the interruption and following embarrassment, the doctor glowers down at it and graciously ignores the stifled laughter Stone hides under a cough. "Would an early dinner be alright with you, doctor?"
"Well, apparently," Robotnik grumbles.
"I will go make something. I will be right back."
Humming an agreement, Robotnik waves after his leaving assistant distractedly. Then he continues to go through his work, but his focus has started to wane a little. He is hungry and slightly exhausted by now – ridiculous, considering his usual schedule and drive, but obviously, he had not recovered completely yet. The moment he hears step approaching, he figures might as well, and puts the tablet aside to sit up straighter.
Stone enters with two plates full of steaming food, balancing them easily while he crosses the room and sits down on the mattress' edge. "I used the leftover chicken from lunch and made some rice and vegetables to go with it. More substantial than the soup, but still light enough, hopefully."
"I see you forgot the coffee again," Robotnik comments drily. "Putting me through cold turkey from caffeine now?"
Briefly, the corner of Stone's mouth twitches, but he is smart enough to cover the slip-up with a light cough. "Well. If you manage to eat more than half of that and can keep it down, I think you're good to try drinking a latte."
The mere possibility makes Robotnik perk up considerably – before he notes the glint in his assistant's eyes, betraying amusement. Squinting at him, he prods, "… Stone, are you trying to bribe me with coffee right now?"
"What? No," Stone lowers his gaze, but he is not quote fast enough to hide the smile flickering over his features. "I know that would never work, doctor."
"Hm-hm. Give me the plate," waiting until he had been given plate and cutlery, Robotnik snaps the fork around and stabs Stone's still outstretched hand with it, quick and fast, calculated to sting but not hurt.
His sycophant has the good graces to jump a little and mutter an Ow, even though he is still smirking lightly while he turns back to his own plate.
Just for that, Robotnik keeps glowering at him for a bit longer. At least until he takes the first bite of his meal and his annoyance is immediately forgotten. The food, while still simple, is easily one of the best things Robotnik has ever tasted in his opinion, and he almost wonders when the heck Stone had found the time to master cooking, given their hellish schedule.
If he did not so despise interrupting his work to follow his body's needs, he might actually have considered pestering his sycophant into making him food on a regular basis.
He actually manages to finish the whole plate, a little surprised himself by his appetite.
Stone, at least, seems pleased with it when he picks up their plates and cutlery. "I'm glad to see your appetite returning, doctor."
"Not that I had much of one to begin with. You know how rarely I eat."
"All the better that you're doing it now. You need the energy."
Blowing a raspberry, Robotnik rolls his eyes at the other. "Bleugh. When did you become such a mother hen?"
Instead of seeming offended or hurt by the accusation, Stone laughs, bright and startled, and shakes his head while he turns to leave. "I will be making you that latte now, doctor."
"Finally!" Robotnik snaps after him, tone dramatic, and in the privacy of being left alone in the room, he allows himself to grin at the resulting chuckle echoing in the hallway.
Stone returns in record time, making Robotnik suspect that he had already pre-prepared the drink. The doctor does his best not to show his eagerness when he accepts the cup, but his forced disinterest is forgotten the moment he tries the latte. The first sip is, quite frankly, a revelation. Robotnik stops to really savour it, keeping it in his mouth for as long as he can before swallowing and immediately going in for the next gulp. There is a slight hint of bitterness which is usually not there, but he chalks it up to his taste buds still being a mess after that cold. Despite the new note, the majority of the taste is familiar and comforting, and every sip spreads warmth through his limbs. He really had needed this.
He finishes the cup in record time, despite all his intents to savour too greedy to really draw it out. Stone's eyes are bright when he takes the cup back; clearly he has been enjoying watching the doctor enjoy his creation.
"Right in time before I die of coffee withdrawal," Robotnik announces while he hands the item over.
The gleam only intensifies when Stone laughs quietly. "You can't die of lack of coffee, doctor…"
"Do you really want to argue with a genius, sycophant? Bad idea," blinking slowly – his eyelids feel heavy all of a sudden – Robotnik waves a dismissive hand at the other. "Clearly there's… always a first for…every-…"
He interrupts himself to yawn. Yawn? When did he get so tired? But now that he notices about it, it is there, and it grows stronger by the second; his limbs feel heavy and buzzing with exhaustion, and every blink takes a little longer than the last, eyelids heavy as lead. Huh. Strange. He is tired, alright, but this is excessive, after several hours of undisturbed sleep the night before and way too sudden. He feels almost like… like…
Blinking long and hard, Robotnik manages to briefly focus his sight enough to make out Stone's expression, and there is something… something calculating about it, as if his sycophant is waiting for sign or something similar while he is watching him. It clicks then, and Robotnik groans, half annoyed, half amused; impressed despite himself. "You… you put something into my latte," he accuses, flapping his hand weakly at the cup. His tongue feels heavy, stumbling over the words, and he huffs a dry laugh. To think that he had fallen for it; to think that he had let anyone close enough to let something like this happen! "You bastard, what did you-…?"
"Merely a combined preparation against flu. Painkillers, mostly," Stone lifts a colourful package from somewhere to his side, turning it around to read the description as if he does not know perfectly well what it says. "Although I think this particular brand also has the effect of a sedative in some cases."
Keeping his eyes open and his wits about him is quickly becoming difficult, but Robotnik is nothing if not stubborn. Even swaying precariously in place, he narrows his eyes at his smiling – smiling! - assistant and grumbles, "You really… think I won't fire you for this… don't you?"
"Let's say I'm keeping my hopes up," Stone reaches out to put a hand against the doctor's shoulder, steadying him so he stops swaying. "I'm sorry for being so forward, doctor, but knowing your history with insomnia… I just want to make sure you get the best rest you possibly can, so you recover faster."
Robotnik thinks, blearily and far away, that he should feel alarmed about this development. He is completely unarmed, slowed down by the illness and now sedated on top of everything. He is vulnerable, and Stone is right there, he could easily do whatever the heck he wanted to, right now.
But the alarm never comes. Not only because of the feeling of cotton-soft sleepiness taking hold of the doctor, but also because this is Stone. The guy who had basically held his hand while he had been introducing the contents of his stomach to his toilet. The very same guy who is currently helping him to ease back onto the pillows and the begins tucking the blanket around him with a care which is entirely foreign to Robotnik.
Stone makes it damn hard to be alarmed, or even suitably angry, Robotnik reflects with a tired smirk, eyes already dropping closed. But he cannot let this stand like this, so despite the fact that he cannot open his eyes any longer. Forcing his tongue to cooperate with him to form words, he mutters "You're… in so much trouble, Stone,"
"Looking forward to it, doctor," there is no trepidation in Stone's voice, nor fear. He sounds like he is smiling as he says it.
Before Robotnik slips into sleep entirely, he thinks he imagines a gentle touch to the top of his head, almost a caress
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ S ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When Robotnik snaps awake the next time, it is much closer to his usual style of waking; one breath, eyes snapping open and he is fully awake immediately, memories of the last events before he fell asleep immediately.
Remembering how easily Stone had tricked him makes him scoff and then snort - amused despite himself - and he pushes himself up, stretching slowly. He feels well-rested in a way he very rarely does, too used to insomnia and overworking himself as he is, but the good feeling makes him all the more set on revenge. Can't let his sycophant think he can get away with something like this only because he had been right.
"That barnacle is in so much trouble..." he says to no one, already smirking in anticipation of what he can come up with to pay Stone back tenfold; watching the other figure out some creative way to deal with the doctor's punishment in a way not even the doctor has seen coming is always entertaining.
Scooting to the edge of the mattress, Robotnik notes with great satisfaction that moving has already become much easier again. No body aches, headache or nausea to speak of. He does not even get dizzy once he gets to his feet. The lazy day the day before and the good sleep has worked like a miracle.
Running a hand through his hair to tame it somewhat, he calls out for his troublesome assistant. "Stone?!
No answer, not even a rustle or the hurry of footsteps. Unusual. Intrigued now, Robotnik leaves the bedroom and checks the other rooms in passing while he wanders to the living room.
But Stone is nowhere to be found. There is also no sound which could hint that someone else is still in the house. Stone is not here; had he been, he would have reacted to his calling by now. Had he gone back to work? Robotnik wonders while he stands in the middle of the living room, looking around. Everything is neat and tidy, and...
Huh. A glance out the window makes him pause, eyebrow jumping up. There is his car parked in the driveway, although he remembers that they had come here in Stone's car. Had his sycophant actually gone back the lab to get it for him? Once more, Robotnik finds himself knocked off-kilter by the lengths his assistant would go unprompted.
Shaking his stupor off, Robotnik mutters to himself about barnacles which refuse to be predictable and continues his journey to the kitchen - the last room he has not yet checked.
He is not surprised to find it deserted as well. There is a covered plate on the kitchen table, and the collection of medicine sitting on the counter... and, most interestingly, a note right next to the plate.
Figuring that would finally give him a hint to Stone's whereabouts, Robotnik crosses over to the table and picks the note up. The message on it is written in Stone's neat and clean handwriting:
Meeting scheduled short-term for this morning. Concerning next Badnik batch. No option to reschedule.
I will take care of it.
There is an address and a time scribbled down beneath the words, less neatly than the rest of the message, smudges at the end of the last line. Clearly Stone had been in a hurry when leaving. Robotnik absentmindedly checks the time, sees that the meeting is soon due to begin, and wonders when the pentagoons had deigned to inform them of the meeting. Probably much too late.
He should have turned around on his heels and gone to dress and prepare himself in order to hurry over to the location, but instead, he finds himself hesitating, thumb running over the note one more time. I will take care of it. Why did that trigger some kind of nebulous memory in the back of his mind…?
"I will take care of everything. Trust me."
With a scowl, Robotnik attempts to focus on the blurry image, but it keeps slipping out of reach, refusing to stay still and be analysed. Ah, whatever; probably just part of that strange dream he had had. He has more important things to worry about right now.
Whipping around on his heels, he strides out of the room and goes to prepare. He needs to look his most intimidating best for this, but he also has to be fast as well.
Twenty minutes should be enough.
Better not start the fun part without me, Stone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ S ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Twenty-five minutes later, on the dot, Robotnik sweeps into the mentioned building with all his usual flamboyant flair, ignoring the way the guards at the main entrance have to scramble in order to unlock and open the doors for him. He's in a hurry, and has even less time than usual for these ants; the meeting should have already begun by now, and he is determined to make it there before it can really pick up speed.
Not that he doubts that Stone can handle it, but he will damn well be there to see him do it if he has anything to say about it.
The elevator ride and the way down winding hallways which all look the same seems to take much longer than necessary, but finally, the room number Stone had written down comes into sight. Assembling his features in a haughty sneer, Robotnik pulls to a stop in front of the door, checks himself over once more – a little short of breath still, and a tad warmer than usual, but nothing he cannot deal with or cover up – before reaching for the door handle.
He is about to fling the door open and storm into the room in order to take over the show taking place inside, when loud voices from inside give him pause. Someone is talking, almost shouting, loud enough that even the massive door can barely muffle the words.
"... can't be so difficult to tell us what is keeping Doctor Robotnik from showing here," a voice the doctor does not recognize is saying right now; there is annoyance bordering on anger accompanying every syllable. "Surely we have a right to know why he would leave us waiting like this, sending you in his stead?"
A frown tugs Robotnik's brows together; he does not like the way this stranger is addressing his assistant. His grip around the handle tightens and he once more moves to open the door, when a very much familiar voice halts him in his tracks.
"With all due respect, sir," Stone's voice leaves no doubt that he does not feel any respect for his opposite at all, "the details of what Doctor Robotnik is currently occupied with are absolutely none of your business."
A wide grin spreads over Robotnik's face and he chuckles darkly. Good sycophant.
Stone had done his job marvellously. Now it's the doctor's turn.
The door flies open with so much force it cracks against the wall; Robotnik strides into the room behind it with his coat flaring behind him, snapping his fingers ad whistling once, sharply, to make sure everyone's attention is on him and only him while he crosses the room. "Whatever inane little complaint you're in the middle of coming up with right now – leave it, and shut up," he announces to the room at large, to whomever might be the imbecile who had just been talking back to his assistant. "Agent Stone was merely saving a seat for me, and as you can see, I'm here to take over now."
His noisy entrance has made several people around the long table jump or flinch, and made sure that everyone's eyes are on Robotnik. There are murmurs around the table, a few audible scoffs. Commander Walters half rises from his seat at the head of the table, expression slipping enough to reveal a mixture of surprise and a hint of relief. "Doctor Robotnik..."
But the doctor does not pay them any mind; his focus is mostly on his assistant.
Stone is standing behind one of the chairs, hands gripping tightly onto the backrest, back straight and rigid. Some of the tension leaves his shoulders at the sound of the doctor's voice and he turns immediately, his expression brightening at first, coming dangerously close to a full smile before he catches himself and schools his feature into professional impassiveness. The true joy in his voice cannot be overheard, however, when he greets the other. "Doctor, you're here."
"Where else would I be, Stone?" He is careful to keep his tone light, makes sure that it is clear that the words are not a reprimand. Reaching his agent's side, Robotnik drops a hand on the other's shoulder, jostling him lightly. "Good job saving me that seat. Can we get started then?"
The last part he directs at the room as a whole, all lightness leaving his voice when it drops to the usual haughty, bored drawl he reserves for the higherups.
"Of course," Walters is quick to pick him up on the offer. Taking his seat once more, the commander explains, "We have not yet officially started the meeting. Since you were not present, we waited with the..."
Ugh. Now he had made it in time, but that only meant he had to listen to this drivel. Rolling his eyes and barely catching a sigh before it can slip out, Robotnik pulls back the chair and slides into his seat.
"Doctor" Stone's voice directly next to his ear does not even startle the doctor, well used to it. His assistant has leaned in, discreetly hiding that they are whispering to each other from the rest of the room. "Should I go get you something to drink?"
"Yes. I will need it," Robotnik agrees without taking his eyes off the notes Stone had laid out on the table in front of him. He more feels than sees Stone nod next to him and stand back up, ready to go get him that drink.
He is about to mentally take a step back from this entire kindergarten, dive into his own mind and let the babbling of the monkeys and pigs present wash over him as an annoying background noise, when Commander Walters' speech is interrupted by one of the other high-ranking morons, interrupting the flow of the meeting. "Excuse me, Commander," the man opposite of Robotnik speaks up, raising his hand to signal he would like to say something. "Before we turn to the reason we're all here, there is one thing I hope to get an explanation for."
Walters' interrupts himself, clearly a little surprised, but gestures for the other to go on. "Of course, major."
Robotnik has looked up from his notes as well, intrigued. The voice of the - major, is it? - gives away that this is the same man who has been arguing with Stone when the doctor had arrived. He senses that this is going to concern himself in some way.
And true enough, once the major has the right to take over speaking role, he immediately turns towards Robotnik. "Doctor Robotnik. Would you mind telling us the reason for your delay?"
Instantly, the room temperature lowers by a few degrees, and some of the men around the table inhale audible, or shift uneasily. Everyone who had ever had to do anything with Robotnik, directly or indirectly, knows of the doctor's terrible temper, and most of those who now are smart enough never, really never, challenge Robotnik in any way.
This particular specimen here, Robotnik ponders while he lets his gaze rack slowly over the common looking guy in his neat uniform and shiny medals, has apparently not gotten the memo yet.
He is aware, distantly, that Stone has stopped moving behind him. Waiting. Robotnik raises one hand and flicks two fingers towards the door, not turning in the slightest. Go. I can handle it.
There is an almost inaudible clearing of a throat, nearly a chuckle, and Stone continues walking.
Walters obviously is aware that a catastrophe is on the horizon, and makes an attempt to do damage control. "Major. I do not think that will be necessary."
He could have very well been talking to a wall; none of the two men, neither military nor genius, pay him any mind.
"I think," Robotnik begins, speaking slow and calm in a way which is already a warning sign for anyone who knows him a little, "Agent Stone already told you that that is none of your business."
Despite the several red flags and everyone around him clearly being uncomfortable and tense, the major remains stubborn. Clearly, he is trying to make an example, to put the government's very own genius back in his place, like punishing a misbehaving lap dog, Robotnik thinks with a sneer. Gesturing at himself and the people next to him, the major points out, "I think we all would be interested to hear what was more important than this urgent meeting. After all, we requested your presence, not that of your... bodyguard."
Robotnik twitches slightly at the address, but does not allow any of what goes through his mind right then to show on his face. Somewhere off to the side door clicks shut; he is fairly sure that Stone had still heard the last part before leaving.
Turning his entire attention towards the speaker, a thing which rarely ends well for the target, Robotnik levels the guy with a flat stare. "You asked for the presence of our department, and Agent Stone is part of the very same."
"We specifically asked for your presence on this-..."
"I was otherwise occupied, so, I sent Agent Stone ahead. Problem with that, uh..." Robotnik pretends to squint at the other's chest, searching at the rows and rows of shiny medals as if attempting to find a name tag so where in that mess, "... Major Run of the Mill?"
"Doctor Robotnik," Walters speaks up, quiet and firm. It is a warning, a mind your tone, but Robotnik barely spares him a glance from the corner of his eyes before focusing back on the trouble maker opposite of him. He would play nice, for now, but as soon as the other made the mistake of continue to flap his mouth and provoking him further, he would guarantee for nothing.
And like Robotnik had secretly hoped he would, the major does make the mistake. Clearly displeased with the fact that Robotnik had answered so flippantly instead of apologizing for his shortcomings, the man frowns deeply and continues to dig his own grave, "Actually yes, that is a problem. We called for this meeting in the hopes of hearing your professional opinion on this matter. I don't see how your bodyguard would be capable of providing us with anything helpful, so I don't understand why you sent..."
"That is a phrase you have to use a lot, hmmm? I don't understand," Robotnik interrupts him almost quietly, almost gently. The soft-as-silk tone of his voice is a warning in itself, and the room temperature seems to drop to arctic level as everyone around him falls quiet and holds very still, as if avoiding unnecessary movement will somehow save them from the thunderstorm which is brewing around the doctor. It won't help; Robotnik knows they know that, can see it in the major's slowly widening eyes while he leans forward, stippling his fingers while he keeps talking in that soft tone, "Now, to be fair, I do not expect someone of your limited capabilities to understand that my assistant," here he inflicts a little more force into his voice, letting them feel a hint of the fury he feels bubbling inside of him at the thought of Stone being called a mere bodyguard by these monkeys, "is more than capable of dealing with meetings such as this, and better suited to understand and thus present the work I accomplish every single day... than all of you mouth-breathing imbeciles with the brain capacity of amoebas gathered in this room put together!"
On the last sentence, he lets his control slip entirely, allows his temper to inflict on his words to make them snap and crack like a whip while he raises his voice. The way everyone around him jumps a little, gazes dropping away from his because they are unable to look at him any longer, improves his mood instantly. Forget about medicine; this is what he needs to get better again – seeing idiots cover before him in fear.
Letting his gaze swivel over the table, Robotnik makes sure that everyone is accordingly put in their place. Nobody speaks up, or tries to argue with him; not a single one of this brave, brave men are even able to meet his eyes. Even Walters has put one hand over his face, clearly acting out the good ol' "see no evil, hear no evil". He must have decided the major had it coming for drawing Robotnik's ire like this. Good. Had he decided to try and put a stop to the show, Robotnik would have had no qualms to round on him to.
Into the awkward silence crackling with tension and high tempers, there is the quiet click of a door opening and closing, and Stone steps back into the room, cup of steaming coffee in hand. He ignores the thick air without so much as an extra blink and crosses the room to come to stand next to Robotnik, holding out the cup for him to take while murmuring lowly, "Doctor, your latte,"
Tearing his gaze away from the imbecile opposite of him, Robotnik glances over to his assistant – then grins when a thought strikes him. "Stone," he addresses him with much more glee than usual, watching in amusement how Stone's eyebrow ticks up and a flicker of anticipation enters his eyes. He is clearly sensing that mayhem is afoot, and the doctor is only reaffirmed in his decision by the fact that the other knows him so well. Coaxing him closer with one finger, Robotnik directs his assistant to stand right behind his chair, explaining, "Come here, come here. Do me the favour and explain to these brave, respectable men of the military here, what, exactly, I changed about the newest batch of Badniks and how we will profit from that in the long run. As detailed as possible, if you would. I am sure they are dying to know."
"… Very well, doctor." A little more hesitant than usual, glancing over at him twice as if checking for confirmation, Stone shifts into place. A third glance over, and Robotnik makes a shooing gesture at him – go on – before dropping into his chair. Like this, Stone is standing behind him, hands on the backrest, while the doctor is sprawled out leisurely in his seat, sipping on his latte seemingly without a care in the world. In truth, he is watching with laser focus from under his eyelashes, anticipating the show which will take place here in a second.
Stone takes one last look down at Robotnik – gets a thumbs up – and looks back up to the other people present, straightening, smoothing out his features. The moment he opens his mouth next, he is all impassive professionalism, talking firm and sure, "Since there have been complaints about the speed and aerodynamic of the Badniks of the last batch, Doctor Robotnik has made it his main focus to adjust the newer models accordingly. To achieve maximum velocity for the Badniks' flight, he first changed the chassis' material, replacing it with…"
Without missing a beat, Stone launches into a long-winded, detail, and most of all entirely correct explanation of every single change, adjustment and improvement Robotnik had added to his babies; going so far as to explain the thought-process behind every single step and listing up every single material used for the new batch. Even though he is not taking a single look at the prepared notes, speaking freely the entire time, he is reciting everything Robotnik has told him about the project and then going well beyond that, indicating that he had taken the time to study the presentation set up for this meeting quite thoroughly. He is using simpler words than the doctors would have, but for the doctor, who is watching with undisguised glee, it is quite obvious that even this dumbed down version still goes far above the IQ of everyone else present in the room; he watches, grinning like a shark, how the imbeciles first stare at Stone with poorly disguised surprise, then shock, until finally their attention vanes slowly, gazes becoming unfocused first, then darting around the room as if looking for an escape.
It is Major What's-his-name who finally bites the bullet and raises one hand, interrupting Stone's monologue, "Thank you, Agent Stone, that was… quite detailed."
Stone stops talking, a brief frown flitting over his face; the most he will allow himself to show of his displeasure over being interrupted in front of other people. He looks slowly down at Robotnik, addressing him instead of the major, "Do you want me to continue, doctor?"
"No, I think that was enough; we don't want to fry anyone's brain, after all." There is a persistent feeling of pride pulsing in his chest, too potent to ignore, and before he can think better of it, Robotnik reaches up and sets one hand on Stone's wrist, squeezing it lightly. He can feel the other freeze in surprise, but ignores it, already letting go once more while directing his gaze and cutting question at the man who started all this, "Any more questions, Major Bog-Standard?"
The man's jaw work visibly while he chews around on his answer, eyes sparking with hatred while he stares at the doctor unblinkingly. "... Not at present."
"Didn't think so," Robotnik clacks his tongue in an obviously condescending way and leans back further in his chair, crossing his legs, tapping his fingers on the armrest. "Now then, since that covers the input requested from our department – whose turn is it now? Or even better, can we cut his entire farce short and return to real work? Hm?"
The last question he directs, very gleefully, at the head of the table where Walter is sitting. The commander looks like he has aged a decade in the past few minutes, but heroically bites back a sigh when he stands up and takes over: "Thank you for that explanation, Doctor Robotnik, Agent Stone. Now that that has been dealt with, the next point on the list for today is…"
Robontik clinks out mentally after that, sipping his latte and delving deep into his mind to distract himself. The rest of the meeting becomes background noise to him; he is well aware that Stone will be paying attention, and tell him afterwards if anything of value had been said. He will simply sit the rest of this show out and then return to work, refreshed and eager to pick up the work on his projects once more.
Somewhere in the middle of Walters blubbering, Stone leans past Robotnik under the cover of sorting through the doctor's sparse notes and handing him a form the commander has mentioned. Sensing that this is about something else entirely, Robotnik tilts his head, inviting his sycophant to say what he needs to.
Stone's hand brushes his when he hands the item over, and he murmurs right next to the genius' ear, quieter than the rustle of paper, "Are you feeling better, doctor?"
"Quite alright," Robotnik answers from the corner of his mouth. Plucking the paper from the other's grip, he catches sight of Major Run-of-the-Mill staring at him from across the table, and makes sure to add loud enough for others to overhear, "Thank you, Stone."
"You're welcome, doctor," Stone answers in the same clipped, professional tone while he straightens, brushing down his suit once again.
It is probably only Robotnik himself who catches on to the smile lurking in the corner of the agent's mouth.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ S ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The meeting wraps up fairly quickly after that; or perhaps they simply hasten ahead to get rid of Robotnik and will continue to talk behind his back, afterwards.
The doctor could not care less. First chance he gets, he storms out of the room with doors slamming, leaving the rather subdued imbeciles behind with great strides. Not an escape, but rather a victory march. In Robotnik's book, this meeting could not have gone much better than it did.
Humming in satisfaction, Robotnik takes the last gulp of his delicious latte without slowing down, feigning surprise at the taste. "Hm," smacking his lips for show, he while throwing the empty cup into the nearest trash can. "Tastes different. You might have forgotten to add the sedatives this time around, sycophant."
Stone, matching his quick pace one step behind him, has the good sense to cover his surprised bark of laughter with a cough, raising one hand to his mouth to hide the quicksilver smile darting over his face. Robotnik does not let anything betray that he has seen the gesture and keeps walking at his fast pace, trusting Stone to follow.
They are out of the building and crossing the parking lot towards their car when Stone speaks up once more, sounding uncharacteristically hesitant, "Doctor, may I ask a question?"
"Technically and actually, you just did. But I'm in a forgiving mood today," Robontik pauses long enough to let Stone snort quietly at that, because both of them are very much aware there is nothing like forgiveness to be expected from a man like Ivo Robotnik. Waving his hand with a smirk, the doctor finishes: "so go ahead, pose a second question."
"When you asked me to explain the changes to the Badniks, back in the meeting," Stone starts, outlining what he means as if Robotnik has somehow forgotten about the events already, "was that some kind of test, to see if I had been following your explanations?"
Now that gives Robotnik pause, makes him stop in his quick stride and whirl back around to Stone, blinking rapidly while he digests that. "A test?" He prods, half-expecting the other to rethink this, but when Stone only nods slowly, he snorts aloud and shakes his head in disbelief. "Do you think me an imbecile, Stone? I don't need to test you; I'm fully aware of the extent of your skills and abilities."
"So when you wanted me to present the project…"
"… I was aware that it is well within your scope, yes," Robotnik interrupts with a flick of his wrist and a huff. "Good job noticing that, sycophant. A plus for trying. Any more questions about the obvious, or can we go back to work now?"
Stone's expression flickers, impassive professionalism slipping and cracking when surprise shines through, then understanding and finally, something akin to awe. Robotnik watches in amusement how his sycophant flushes lightly in pleasure and had to duck his head to try and hide his grin (failed on that one, sycophant). "Of course doctor - we can go back to work now. Sorry for slowing you down."
"Hmph. Just see to it that it does not happen again." Snapping around on his heels, Robotnik continues his stride. He hears Stone hurry after him, and smirks in anticipation.
Three, two... now.
Robotnik waits that half heartbeat until Stone's faster pace brings the other man at the same level as him and then snaps out one arm, slamming it to the side and back in a smooth arch which results in his elbow landing square in Stone's solar plexus. The force is calculated so it will hurt, but not actually incapacitate his sycophant; he wants to teach him a lesson, not put him out of commission.
The move works beautifully; Stone folds forward with an audible oof of pain, stumbling in his step so abruptly he nearly lands on his face.
Robotnik leans down so he is on eyelevel with his coughing assistant, grabbing him by his hair and tugging his head up so the other has to look at him. "And that," he explains cheerfully, adding another quick tug which makes Stone's face twitch in pain, "was for that little drugging stunt of yours, barnacle. You should be grateful; If you hadn't aced that presentation back there, that wouldn't have been my elbow, but a shot from the Badnik's stun gun."
Despite the rather awkward and painful situation he is in, Stone somehow manages to smile through it all, wheezing out, "Well. Thank you, doctor."
That stubborn barnacle. Grinning toothily, Robotnik lets go of the other so abruptly Stone stumbles and draws up to full height, dusting of his hand "At least you still remember your manners," he mocks. "That was only step one of your punishment, I hope you're aware. You're on cleaning duty after this. I want the lab to be in tip-top shape, gleaming and sparkling, everything sorted in perfect order the way I like it, by the end of the week. If I find a single speck of dust, or something out of place, I'm letting the babies use you for target practice, Stone."
Drawing a deep breath - it hurts, Stone cannot quite hide the wince it causes - the agent stands up again gingerly, righting his suit and brushing himself down. There is still something like amusement on his features, Robotnik notes with a raised eyebrow. "I don't think that will be necessary, doctor," Stone announces once he is present able again, directing a truly beaming smile at his boss. "I will make sure to finish the task to your satisfaction."
The thing is, Robotnik thinks with a certain wave of fond exasperation while he looks his beaming sycophant over, the thing is that Stone actually might be able to pull the task off without a hitch. No, he does not only think so – he knows the other will. He is almost tempted to bet it won't even take him a week for it.
"Deplorable boy scout," he accuses Stone, rolling his eyes and turning his back on him in order to hide his smile. "Now, stop dilly-dallying and get a move on. I want to finish the power unit today, and you will be my hands for it. Not risking my hand for it again."
There is a hitch of breath in his back which has nothing to do with pain this time; excitement, more like. Stone's voice is brimming with it when he agrees. "Of course, doctor."
Hidden from the attentive gaze of his assistant, Robotnik lets his smile grow into a grin. Alright, so maybe letting his sycophant join him on his work is not a very good way to punish the other for acting out. So what? He's a crazy scientist, and he still has a cold.
He will just blame the fever for the slipup. No more, no less.
After all, nobody would expect Ivo Robotnik to feel something like gratefulness, right?