Work Text:
It had been four months since the incident; 16 weeks that Robotnik had been in Stone’s complete care; 112 days since Stone had last felt Robotnik’s warmth. He still distinctly remembered how the G.U.N. uniform had clung tightly against his clammy skin— how his head had swam, aching to find his Doctor. His innards had tangled like they were thrown into a mixer. Memories from that day reminded him of a disowned sweater ridden with moth holes and sown with mildew. Moths that chewed out pieces of his brain, removing the sight of Robotnik’s bloodied, unidentifiable body and leaving it in the wasteland of his amygdala. In the forefront of his mind he could still hear Robotnik’s enervated heartbeat. The soft thrumming of a groggy pulse against his fingers was forever embedded into the folds of his brain. Stone fought to glue all of the mangled scraps together.
The former agent paced the thinly-walled cabin, due diligently placing pieces of chopped pine tree from their pile into the rusty wood burning furnace. The cold early-March air had filed in through the ever-oscillating door that Robotnik had refused to keep shut earlier.
After the first week out of the shabby care unit in nowhere Montana, Robotnik had insisted on helping Stone work on building the giant crab, completely disregarding his bandages and lack of physical therapy. Stone had staved him off for the first few days of demanding but Robotnik’s unwavering, and almost aggressive volition overpowered the former agent’s wishes. This is how the doctor found himself immobilized, prone in bed, teeth chattering from the dull ache that panged throughout his body. Stone tried his hardest despite the doctor’s regressive behavior and provided him with benadryl since he rejected any stronger medicines.
Robotnik listened to the breeze that whistled through the cracks of the tongue and groove paneling, his hooded vision only slightly being able to make out a figure in the far corner of the cabin. Stone sat crouched in front of the mouth of the furnace, eyebrows furrowed as his lighter clicked to life and ignited the earthy kindling that sat atop of the adjoining wood. “Should be warming up in here soon, sir,” he assured softly, padding over to the almost comatose Robotnik and placing a soothing hand on his arm. He smoothed the wrinkles out of his fluffy pajama sleeve, bringing the doctor’s limp hand to his face and placing soft kisses along his dry knuckles. “You know we have hydrocodone if you change your mind.” He lost his confidence as his eyes met Robotnik’s foggy ones, stomach churning at the blatant pain the man was forcing himself to endure. A shaky breath was washed away by the crackling fire. He muttered a plea under his breath into Robotnik’s hand. “I can’t stand watching you in pain.”
For the most part, Robotnik was taking in about every third word his agent was speaking at him, but his pitiful “please” was loud and clear. He’d never seen Stone so absent of himself; he was putty formed into a rock shape. The doctor despised the way the opioids made him feel, it overtook his senses and accosted his body in a way he did not condone. If he could help it, he would have exploded the medicine with the heat of a thousand suns, but Stone had pocketed it away before he had any say over what happened to it. Stone had been pressuring him to use them like an aid when his limbs went limp from numbing pain, or when he lost nights of sleep to the restless ache in his bones– but it was his pain to experience. Whether it was a masochistic desire or in the way an animal defends its territory, he refuted it. The hazy memories and his lack of consciousness in the last few months invoked a guttural fear inside him. It made his innards twist whenever he tried recounting the events that led them to this cabin and if he could help it, he wasn’t going to contribute to the problem. Robotnik couldn’t even recall how Stone had rescued him; for all he knew, he was dead and this was terminal lucidity. The last bang before every neuron shuts off in his brain.
“I can’t let...going to… Okay?” There were no words nor noises that Robotnik could respond with, his throat dried up and froze over like the frost that coated the trees outside. He tried producing a hum, but came up empty, blinking slowly at Stone instead. A small smile found its way on the man’s face at the effort and he let his hand linger on the other’s before walking off. The doctor’s hand felt cold with Stone’s absence and he wished it were there for longer. He heard metal scraping metal then a soft rustling like wind in leaves and it painted a picture he could not see of Stone stoking the fire. He tried to focus on the things around him and not how his body felt like it had been maimed by a pack of wolves. The joy of existence.
Stone was quickly back at his side, taking a gentle seat beside his legs. These days he was obvious and saccharinely attentive to Robotnik. The latter hadn’t, and didn’t, know how to feel toward this new side– or rather augmented– side of him. The doctor had sunk into the warmth he provided and accepted the shift in dynamic nonetheless. There was something existential to not knowing why he’d accepted it so fast, but like many other things, Robotnik let it melt away into the dreamlike haze. He felt a tender hand on his jaw, coaxing it open. He was of half a mind to allow for it, but upon realization he snapped his mouth closed, jerking himself away. Shooting pains rushed to meet his sides, legs and shoulders as his back met the headboard in his scrambling escape of that god awful pill. His eyes stung, blurring the image of a hurt Stone in front of him. “No!” He rasped, wheezing slightly. His chest heaved, a look of shock wrote his features.
Robotnik reminded Stone of a feral animal in captivity and it unsettled him to his core. His teeth worried his lip, trying not to unravel at the doctor’s reaction. The water in his glass threatened to spill as he calmed himself before addressing the man in front of him. He let the air in his lungs escape through his mouth, setting down the glass and pill, and showing his empty hands to Robotnik. “Okay…” He breathed, slipping into the covers beside him. Stone brought a hand to the broken man’s face, catching the tears that gathered on his jaw. The whistling had stopped at some point between getting the water and now, but Stone wasn’t sure of when. Robotnik gulped down the jagged breaths that threatened to release a pitiful whine. He knew he wasn’t hiding anything; he knew from the way Stone held his gaze and tensed his jaw that he could see just what Robotnik was trying to conceal. In his haze, he brought his trembling hand to Stone’s steady one, grasping fingers parting between palm and cheek. This time he was the one pleading. A cry for his warmth. He wanted Stone to hold him and absolve him of this anguish. Stone was the one who forced this on him, unburied Robotnik from his grave, he should be the one to take it back.
The former agent ached for Robotnik, ignoring his own needs with the infected gash scarring just above his eye. What was this pain compared to his? He wanted so badly for the doctor to be himself again. Robotnik took hold of his other hand, gliding it up his torso to steady over his heart. Stone took deep breaths, in through his nose and out through his mouth, feeling the doctor’s chest rise and fall with his. He fought the tears that pinpricked at his waterline as the man in front of him relaxed in his grasp, slowly coming to rest his head on Stone’s shoulder.
“Stone.”
It was almost inaudible under the ambience of the fire, a melancholic tone underlying his name. He hummed softly in reply, his arms resting where Robotnik still held them on his chest. He could hear the man beside him open his mouth before closing it again. “Want the water?” His overgrown induction cut snagged on the wool of Stone’s sweater as he nodded. Cautiously, he maneuvered around the doctor before reaching for the cup that sat precariously along the edge of the side table. “No medicine,” Stone joked lightly, bringing it to Robotnik’s open hands. The glass shook at his parted lips, and the other took the initiative to aid the doctor’s hands with his own. There was a disapproving glance but no effort to stop him. He could hardly care for the steadying grip that kept his glass tipped up. He was more focused on keeping himself from drinking the whole thing in one gulp; it felt like a cool breeze on a scorching summer’s day. Stone discarded the cup back to its previous place on the nightstand, making another point of showing his empty hands.
“I get it,” Robotnik said flatly.
A sad smile flashed his features, before he responded, “I know.” It was soft, the words engulfed in a feeling that made the doctor’s stomach churn.
They soon found their places again, with Stone’s shoulder supporting the weight of Robotnik’s reclined head and Robotnik wrapping Stone’s arms around his torso. Only Stone could remember the last time the doctor was in his arms and he didn’t want to. However, this week had been experimental, with Robotnik puppeteering Stone to touch him much like he was now. He had yearned for the man to hold him while he slept, beseeching his presence, but Stone had expressed his fear of waking up next to an unresponsive Robotnik, potentially smothering him in his sleep; the doctor’s frail body being incapable of lifting his deadweight from him.
If Stone were truthful, he’d have said that he couldn’t get over the familiarity of Robotnik’s sleeping form to what he’d mistaken for his corpse.
The rise and fall of each breath against Robotnik’s back almost made him forget the burning in his joints and throbbing beneath the bandages. He let out a sigh, slouching further into the touch, pulling the other’s arms tighter around him like a blanket. Stone’s stubble felt surprisingly soft on his head. “Were you saying something earlier?” The question lingered in the air, Robotnik contemplating whether to feign sleep or bite the bullet. Stone was patient, waiting with even breaths to steady him.
He swallowed, mouth feeling dry again. Opting for a slight hum, he held Stone’s fingers, guiding them to the hem of his shirt. The man gasped above him, freezing like a deer in headlights. His mouth stayed open, gathering words from the air. “...I can’t,” there was a pain that laced his words, hands fumbling out of Robotnik’s grasp. Something about tonight made the doctor crave Stone’s touch. He felt like a bottomless pit, he needed bare skin against his. The rejection made a lump form in his throat, the pit swirling into a black hole. He took a shaky breath, trying to prepare for what he wanted to say. “This is an order, Stone,” he opted for instead, the authority missing in his voice.
“Doctor, I-” Stone was silent for a moment, his nervous hands trying to find confidence. Fingers danced unsurely along the edge of his shirt. The feeling of his fingertips ignited a fire in Robotnik’s stomach at the contact. It ended as soon as it started with Stone’s head connecting with the headboard, and separating them further. “I can’t.” He repeated like a broken record, at a loss for better words.
“I know,” Robotnik echoed, fighting the frustration that brimmed at his eyes. “I… need-” He bit back an irritated huff, taking Stone's hands in his again and shoving them under his shirt.
“Doctor!” His voice quavered, hands instinctively balling into fists, going into fight mode by nature.
“I need this,” Robotnik spoke decisively, feeling like he would collapse without Stone’s aid. He was a reactor undergoing nuclear fission, needing a stabilizing force to stop the imminent destruction. A tension sat thickly in the air. The whistling was back. Stone’s fists loosened, warm palms connecting with skin and bandages. His jaw tensed with Robotnik’s pain directly in his hands. “Does this hurt?” He whispered with uncertainty. The doctor scooted his torso back to sit flush against him, loosening his hold. “It helps.” An inkling of confidence found its way into the man, his fingers delicately tracing the wraps before landing on a small amount of exposed skin and tracing circles. They stayed like that for a while, Robotnik with his eyes closed in Stone’s soothing embrace. Stone listened to the doctor’s breathing, it was deep and tranquil for once. He wanted to capture this moment and keep it in a locket to have with him when things inevitably got worse again. He subconsciously found himself feeling for the thump of Robotnik’s heart against his ribs. This time it was robust, and it settled something that had been stirring in Stone’s stomach for some time.
Robotnik’s breath hitched slightly at the firm weight pressed into his chest, unaware of how deprived he was. The touch sent his neurons alight, sparking pathways that hadn’t been lit in a long time. Beside himself, he pressed Stone's other palm flat on his torso, smoothing over sensitive skin and delicate wrapping. The chest against his back sputtered with his movements, he could hear a noise escape tight lips. “Is this okay?” The man asked, though being directed by Robotnik’s hand. The latter hummed lowly, softly, continuing to soak in the warmth.
Images of cold skin paling from blood loss wormed its way from Stone’s amygdala. Robotnik’s lifeless eyes. “Doctor, look at me,” he muttered, attempting to catch his gaze. The aforementioned cracked his eyelids open, complying.
“Keep going,” Robotnik murmured. His grip travelled to Stone’s wrist, taking joy in the goosebumps that embellished the skin he could see. The doctor’s opening eyes soothed Stone’s fluttering heartbeat, recalling a sleepy-eyed Robotnik, still curled up on his bed and barely awake. Back then his bed head was unruly. It stung thinking about how just a little over two years ago they were still in Washington, oblivious to what was to come.
Stone blinked back to his spot on the bed, hands shoved under Robotnik’s fleece shirt and stiff again. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, trying to maintain Robotnik’s needs.
“Just keep your hands on me. That’s all I want, Stone,” he reassured, preoccupying himself with sliding his fingers underneath the cuff of the other’s sweater.
“What are you trying to do?” Stone asked genuinely, albeit playfully, sliding his hands out from under the doctor’s shirt and fiddling with his sleeve over top of the other’s hand light-heartedly.
“Take your shirt off.”
“It’s too cold for that.” He tittered, letting Robotnik tug at his sleeves.
“I said so, you’re under contractual obligation!” The doctor giggled despite himself, his body turned to face Stone. He brought his fingers to skim under his sweater, touching along his midriff. Stone stiffened upon the cold touch, his smile faltering enough for the doctor’s eye to catch. Clearing his throat, he quickly scrambled to recover by fumbling to hold Robotnik’s hands in place, not letting him retreat. He wanted this. He wanted this. The doctor’s mouth hung open slightly, the sound of a shocked gasp made way for the familiar uncomfortable silence to wash over them. His almost possessive hold was tight before he let go, Robotnik freezing at the foreign dread that wrote his captor’s features. All Stone could do was stare wide-eyed. “I’m sorry,” he whispered almost to himself. Robotnik furrowed his brows, not meeting the man’s contrite gaze.
“I want this,” Stone reassured quickly, pleading almost. “Doctor, please- I just-” He sighed, Robotnik still not returning his gaze. Something felt tilted in his mind, a lagging vestibular system maybe— he didn’t know. “It’s not you.”
The doctor’s face twisted, and for the first time Stone couldn’t understand what it meant. “It’s you,” Robotnik stated, lifting his attention as the other man looked away avoidantly. “I don’t need your head to be in it, Stone. Just touch me.” He lifted his shirt over his head, letting it fall to the ground just over the side of the bed. Again, he puppetted the latter’s hand in his and dragged his touch from navel to shoulders, grazing over tense trapeziuses. He sighed, Stone stared with creased eyebrows, teeth close to grinding.
“You want this.”
“Yes.” Stone bit his lip, fighting fluttering eyes, shame heating in his core. “I want you.”
“Good.” Robotnik let Stone’s hands go, using his free ones to grab at the latter’s face. “Kiss me.”
Glistening lacerations, open like wet mouths. spanning along Robotnik’s sides. Deep maroon puddling at his boots. Struggling breaths under twisted iron, lapping fire threatening to devour him. “Please…” Stone whimpered.
Firm at the base of his jaw, the familiarity of a forceful hand brought him to connect lips with the doctor. He squinted his eyes, praying Robotnik couldn’t tell he’d kept them open to avoid the rot. Maggots festered in his foggy memory, and Robotnik’s injuries fanned the mist away with physical proof it wasn’t a dream. The doctor parted, thankfully not making note of Stone’s disinterest. It was over too soon. His stomach flipped, fantasizing blood seeping from the doctor’s dressings. He leaned in quickly, smashing their mouths together again. This time he squeezed his eyes shut. No blood. Robotnik hummed, allowing Stone to lead with his frantic tongue searching for reprieve.
Fingernails tensed into his back, fighting the urge to scratch. Stone wanted to bite, snarling into Robotnik’s open mouth. Tremoring hands snaked under his sweatpants, sensually massaging his hips. The smooth, methodical circles brought him back and he caught himself before he slammed Robotnik into the mattress. Mortified, he smoothed over his touches, kissing down the doctor’s throat and chest, lingering on the bandages that adorned his clavicle. “Just like that, sycophant,” he whined, letting his hips press into the other’s. Stone didn’t know what he was doing, the feeling settling into his stomach— he wanted to run from himself. Robotnik trusted him, meanwhile he was fighting the bugs that wriggled beneath his skin. Moths were flapping their wings, beating at the lining of his stomach to escape.
Saliva coated his trimmed stubble, heated by Robotnik’s warm body. He felt smothered. Pausing briefly, he shucked his sweater off carelessly. The doctor, possessed, immediately took to eating away at the new real estate of bare skin. His mouth on Stone’s chest formed a blooming flower of nostalgia, followed by a pang of sorrow. The former agent tried focusing on the sensation, Robotnik’s hands nearly down his pants and the pleasant noises he made but it only pushed him further from himself. The sound of the doctor choking up debris, his first breaths after cpr and his agonized whimpers when coming to, haunted him. It was too much. Bile settled in the back of his throat at Robotnik’s ability to ignore everything.
“Where is this going?” He asked into the air as Robotnik untied his own sweatpants.
His question was discarded like the pants on the floor. Stone’s body reacted to the heavy petting but he couldn’t find a place in it himself. The push and pull of their movements came naturally and their rhythm matched like a harmony; a well remembered choreography. “I want you.” Robotnik sounded breathless, steadying himself against Stone’s chest.
“Are you okay?” Stone whispered, lips on the other’s head with his arms wrapped over his shoulders.
“Yes!” He laughed, perhaps unsure himself, but continued. “Hurry up before I’m not,” he rushed, both of their hands making an uncoordinated attempt at sliding Stone’s pants off. The latter chuckled, a smile brightening his features. He missed this energy.
Robotnik waited, running his fingers through Stone’s hair. He needed Robotnik to move him, to break the barrier like the surface tension on water. His head buzzed, grasping onto the image of the doctor battered and nude, awaiting his touch. The room was too bright, he needed to forget. “I’m not going to disintegrate.” The doctor finally broke.
He’d been caught. It felt like the moths and viscera had all exploded from his body, a gory unsightly mess of his emotions. And he had nothing to say, so Robotnik continued. “We both know my intellect, so let’s skip the shit,” he started. “I’m offended you thought you could hide this. Honestly, Stone, I can see you spacing out. I know your mannerisms.” He winced briefly. “ I know you,” he dug further, making Stone feel like a child being caught red handed. “You’re not the only one hurting. And I hate that you’ve made me address it, this is supposed to be your territory.” The hands on Stone’s hips had long since gone and moved to pick up the shirt he’d forgotten was on the ground.
Words tumbled out of his mouth before he could formulate anything coherent. He pleaded, clinging to Robotnik’s parted body, pulling him back to his chest. He was disintegrating. All he could mutter were, “I want this.” and “I’m sorry”. Liquid shame leaked from his eyes. The doctor sat, letting himself get pulled into Stone’s whirlwind. His shirt stayed balled in his hands, forming a barrier between their bare chests.
“Breathe,” Robotnik soothed, fighting the way his body reacted to Stone. The latter choked in separated lungfuls, releasing Robotnik in search of his hands. “It’s okay.” He gave them to him, his grip surprisingly gentle. He sucked in air, closing his eyes with knitted brows, and tensing before releasing the air. “Can I try again?” The vulnerable words sliced into Robotnik, the warmth soaking into the sinews of his body. He looked to the furnace, surprised to see it was still lit. A small thing was the fire, but it was there, dancing along the innards of separated wood. Wordlessly he nodded, and allowed Stone to wrap his own arms around his torso, setting the shirt aside. He was taken into a tight embrace, a dampness seeping into his overgrown hair. “Thank you, doctor.” Light kisses trailed from his temple to cheekbone and finally lips. “Thank you.”
Stone’s tilted vision shifted, his vestibular system caught up and the rot was embalmed. The forgiving hands were back on his hips, calming the bugs that writhed. He allowed the shame to wash over him like the waves on a shoreline, ebbing and flowing with each touch of the doctor’s wounds. He let his fingers dip to the man’s waist, devouring the soft gasp that escaped parted lips. Their pace was more digestible, a slow waltz of moving parts. “It’s okay.” Robotnik breathed, reading Stone’s mind before he grazed along the other’s hips. Fingertips paused nervously at Robitnik’s thigh and caressed just along his inguinal ligament with bated breath. Stone watched his own movements, studying the trail of goosebumps in the wake of his fingers. Silence met him before crossing the line, index finger tracing up his corpus spongiosum experimentally. Trembling, he brought his lips to Robotnik’s again, soaking him in before enveloping his full circumference. The doctor pressed into him, a needy whine vibrating into his mouth. His touch felt like velvet, grasp like a needed embrace. Bliss buzzed in his body. Robotnik rocked his hips into Stone’s hand, feeling for the other’s neglected phallus. He sputtered like a broken machine, a string of curses and noises all breathing from his mouth. “Putain… c’est bon,” He rasped into Robotnik’s ear.
“Tu aimes ça?” He kept in pace with Stone’s languid strokes.
Stone bit his lip, “Yes.” He panted, repeating again, “Yes.” He brought his head to the crook of Robotnik’s neck, nipping at his clavicle and sucking over the red spots he left. “Is this okay?”
“More than okay.” He hummed, “Keep going.” He slid his hand over top of Stone's, bringing him to take both of their shafts in his grasp and frotting them like a survivalist trying to start a fire. Robotnik whined, leaning into the other’s strong embrace. He still craved more, feeling a deep emptiness ache in his bones. He needed Stone to dig into his stitches, burst them open and feel his exploring touch inside of the viscera. This slow dance had him on edge, trying desperately to rock the boat and capsize them into the swirling tides. His hips became more frenzied, needing the friction to burn.
“Slow down, please,” he begged between pants, his shaking hand losing its grip. The hand that loosely kept hold of Robotnik’s waist applied a force to steady him. He liked the pressure, he needed the weight to tenfold.
“Do something about it.” He tried puppetting him with his words, a shepherd herding the sheep to their pen. “Hold me down. Make me stop, Stone.” There was no stopping, the ship was teetering and he ran with it. Stone’s jaw flexed, his eyes unfocusing.
“Doctor, please.”
“Come on, Stone. Hurt me,” he whispered harshly into his ear, biting the lobe as he parted.
Stone pushed Robotnik back with the slamming force of his lips and his hands on his shoulders. The blurry image of the doctor’s crooked smile appeared below him, grabbing hands pulled him closer by the waist. “Was that o-” Hot lips on his consumed his guilt. He parted, blinking back the nerves that fogged his vision and left wet trails on Robotnik’s chest. The doctor stared up at him, “Don’t be the hero. Leave me.”
Perplexed, Stone grew rigid. “I won’t,” he promised.
“That wasn’t an ask.” Robotnik repeated, “do me.”
There was a pause; palpable at best, degrading at face value. “I…” Stone took a moment, the thread in the sweater unraveling. “Is- do we even have the materials?” He reached for the nightstand drawer, revealing a bottle of lube beneath blueprints and sketches. If not for Robotnik’s keen eye, he would have feigned disappointment and closed the drawer. He gripped the bottle tightly, bringing it to light and letting the cool substance coat his fingers. “I need you to guide me,” he admitted quietly, eyes fluttering closed at the thought of prying fingers inside of him. Robotnik took hold of his slicked fingers, gaping as he pushed them into himself. Stone hissed, carnage blinding his pleasure. His thoughts drifted to bleeding lesions, splitting them open with his forceful touch. He whined, squeezing his eyes shut, feeling Robotnik’s probing tongue unhinging his clenched jaw.
The doctor sank into the feeling, two fingers almost sating his hunger for more. He wanted Stone buried in him, losing himself in the other’s carnal desire. The searing ache haunted his joints, setting his skin ablaze and swallowing him whole. He needed Stone to open him and set him free; to feel the air inside of him.
Stone tried to smother the decay that threatened to infect Robotnik. The doctor spoiling from the inside out, flies bursting from their puparia and tearing him open from where they lay dormant. “Oh god…” He moaned.
“Open me up.” Robotnik removed Stone’s pumping fingers from his hole and took his face in his freed hands, taking him from the dimented fantasy. Thankful, he pressed against Robotnik, soaking in the welcoming heat that enveloped him. They both groaned into the open mouth kiss, the missing piece to the puzzle finally put into its place. Stone lost his senses, overwhelmed by the crawling feeling under his skin and smoothing hands that relieved the itch to peel it off. His brain split in half. The hands grabbed at his hips, forcing them to slam into the other man.
Robotnik released a slew of whines, a torrid pain blinding his senses. The two sides of the coin melted into a spherical shape, one in the same now conjoined. He faced away to let the pain drip from his waterline into the pillow that sat beneath his head. He felt close, bringing a hand to his thrumming erection and choosing a slow stroke to oppose Stone’s slamming pace. Robotnik’s head nearly hit the headboard, Stone’s flexed arms thoughtfully held him in place. The latter’s brows creased in a focused manner, his undoing was near.
Robotnik pulled at the thread, leaving a pile of string on the floor and a memory of a sweater. Stone sweat, arms tiring at holding his weight and keeping the doctor from further injury. His body was hot, and ready for release. “Doctor…” He moaned, breathless. The aforementioned held him captive with his legs, holding his stuttering hips flush against his as the man spurted like a burst artery into him. Robotnik’s voice felt hoarse, wailing into the crook of Stone’s neck.
Tears flowed freely from both of their eyes, their bodies still as if in shock. They huffed, lips meeting for a salty kiss. Stone hugged Robotnik tight, unsheathing himself in fear of looking at the mess. The doctor’s legs hit the bed with a creak, the ache settling in. “Where did you put the hydrocodone?” He sniffed, untangling his arms from Stone’s to wipe his face.
The latter indignantly mumbled something incoherent into the mattress, his hand flopping onto the nightstand like a dead fish in an unsuccessful attempt at retrieving the pill. Robotnik didn’t attempt to grab it, feeling immobilized again. Stone huffed, pushing himself from the bed and excusing himself to refill the glass. Robotnik laid in his pain, a smug expression forming on his face in spite of the ache. He looked to the furnace, watching the char smoke out of the pipe and presumably into the night air. He breathed in deep breaths, too tired to check himself over.
Stone returned moments later with two cups, some wipes and a pack of benadryl. “Dealer’s choice,” he joked.
“I need to be tranquilized,” Robotnik rasped, holding a hand out.
“Thought so.” Stone handed him the opioid, fighting a satisfied grin at the sight. He wiped away the tear streaks from his face and set the wipes aside for Robotnik to deal with.
Tonight he tucked himself in beside the doctor, letting the sound of his sound breaths and beating heart lull him to sleep.