Chapter Text
As soon as Sonic has docked his tablet and hung his suit up in his locker, Shadow takes them to his room.
The first thing he notices is a new addition to the counter under the grow light- some kind of bulbous, clear and green fleshy leafed succulent that Sonic doesn’t know the name of. “New plant?” he asks, admiring the dark blue, oily glaze on the ceramic pot.
Shadow grins and nods, pulling him towards it. “Haworthia cooperi. I named it Linda.”
Sonic lets himself be dragged. It’s only a few feet. “Does your jade have a name too?”
Shadow frowns and his hand grips Sonic’s harder suddenly, he has no idea what he said to prompt that reaction. The hedgehog answers like he’s unsure. “Its name is… Maria.”
“That’s nice,” Sonic says softly, hoping not to make whatever’s going on worse. He rubs his thumb against the back of Shadow’s fuzzy hand, partly for his own comfort and partly for his boyfriend’s. Maybe he shouldn’t prod at this, but…? “Where’d Linda and Maria’s names come from?”
“Linda is because I like it. Maria,” Shadow stops, eyes all far away suddenly. “I don’t know. But it makes me feel like- like I knew someone, once. Before I forgot everything.”
“Before you forgot everything?” Sonic asks slowly. What’s Shadow about to reveal to him? Is it gonna be horrifying? “What do you mean by that?”
“My brain has reformed multiple times,” Shadow says like that isn’t an enormous bombshell to drop on a guy. Yup, that’s horrifying.
“Dude, explain?” Sonic stares wide eyed down at him. “Your brain has reformed?”
“Yes. I don’t know why, but I fought facility personnel and was killed for it more than once,” Shadow leads him away from the plants and towards his bed. “Didn’t you want to rest?”
“Whoa whoa whoa, slow down. You can’t die, right? How were you killed?” Sonic lets Shadow sit him down. The creature’s pensive expression only becomes more distant as he climbs onto the mattress.
“They tried many methods to kill me, or I think they did, I don’t know. My body will repair and regenerate itself faster than human weapons can damage me,” he snuggles up to Sonic, taking hold of his hand and cupping it between both of his own. “Brain tissue never comes back quite the same, though, and the loss of all my memories is not unlike death, isn’t it?”
Sonic sits with that for a short time. Holy fuck, he’s trying not to imagine Shadow torn to pieces and forced to stay alive Deadpool-style. “I guess not. I’m sorry, Shadow.”
“It’s a fact of my life,” he says, tracing a vein down the back of Sonic’s wrist with the pad of his finger. “Can we talk about something else now? Or sleep?”
“Yeah, sure,” a nap sounds great. Sonic isn’t sleeping in a compression garment again, though. He takes his hand from between Shadow’s and starts pulling his shirt over his head. His boyfriend chirps, ears flicking. “Don’t get any ideas, I’m taking my binder off.”
“I’m just admiring,” Shadow says, and Sonic wishes he found that creepy instead of flattering. It’s still creepy but it makes him warm and fuzzy, so…
Shadow has already seen every inch of him, being shy now would be pointless. He removes his binder casually like he’s not being intensely eyeballed, sets it down and pushes it away to the end of the bed lazily, he’ll grab it later. He puts his shirt back on, and it’s only then that Sonic remembers he’s making good money- he might not have to worry about having a chest and binders and all that bullshit someday.
“Damn, I can actually save up for top surgery. That kinda seemed like a pipe dream for a long time,” Sonic leans back into the blankets, sighing. “It’d be nice to finally donate my binders.”
“Top surgery?” Shadow asks, and Sonic very abruptly realizes he’s never once mentioned gender affirming surgeries or his interest in them to Shadow. Shit, is he gonna have the “I’m getting my tits removed regardless of your opinion on them” conversation? He really doesn’t wanna have that conversation.
“Uh… yeah. Someday I wanna have a double mastectomy, that’s top surgery. I’m neutral about my boobs but if I didn’t have them it’d be great, so…”
“Why?” Shadow questions, looking kinda sad. “They’re nice. You don’t like them?”
Yep, that’s what Sonic expected. He does his best to be patient as he explains, “I don’t hate them or anything, but I wanna have a flat chest. I know you’re really into my boobs, but they’re mine and I decide what I do with them.”
“I… see,” Shadow says slowly, looking down at his own chest before he meets Sonic’s eyes. “I don’t understand, but if that’s what you want, I just- I don’t get it. If I had your body, I’d be in love with it.”
Uh. There’s so much to unpack there, Sonic doesn’t even know where to start. He sits up fully, staring down at Shadow in something like shock. “What?”
“What?” Shadow echoes, like what he just said was a regular cisgender guy statement.
“What do you mean by, ‘if you had my body you’d be in love with it’?”
“I- well- I don’t know,” Shadow stammers, ears flicking nervously. “I wish my chest was like yours, and my hips.”
“Uh,” Sonic has no idea what to say, staring blankly at Shadow. The hedgehog becomes more anxious the longer he stays quiet. “That’s… not how guys usually feel?”
Shadow’s ears pin back and he stops making eye contact, corners of his lips downturned and hunching in on himself. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, it’s fine,” Sonic is quick to reassure him, even if he wasn’t expecting this at all. He places a hand on Shadow’s shoulder in what he hopes is a comforting move. “It’s not a bad thing, it’s just, uh, not normal? That sounds bad. It’s not what most men feel like. I guess.”
“...Okay?” Shadow glances at Sonic’s hand for a second, then he meets his eyes. “I’m not a man, I’m not human.”
“Yeah,” Sonic says slowly. Is this going where he thinks it’s going? “Um, so… you want boobs, and you’re not a man. Do you think you’re, uh, male or something else? Do you know what I mean?”
“I don’t think your standards of gender apply to me,” Shadow says simply, although he still seems unnerved. To try to combat the hedgehog’s unease, Sonic pets him with his thumb slowly. “I’m not a person like you.”
“...No,” Sonic looks down at him- at his pinned ears and quills and round eyes and pointy nose, his short stature and his fur, his cute little tail (it’s not wagging at the moment, it probably will be the second they’re done with this conversation). “You aren’t. But that doesn’t mean you can’t decide for yourself if you wanna, like, be curvy and have boobs or whatever. You can be a guy and want that, I just wanted to ask if that’s what you really want. To be a guy, I mean.”
“I… don’t know. I’m not sure. I haven’t thought about it,” looking down at his chest, Shadow lifts a hand and cups a flat pectoral. “I do know that I like the way you’re shaped, and sometimes I’m jealous of it.”
Sonic isn’t a fan of the way he phrased that, but it’s another piece of the puzzle that is Shadow. And a new thing they have in common: dysphoria, apparently. He glances down briefly at his own chest and ignores the pang of mild discomfort the sight elicits. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now. Just, uh, let me know if you ever feel like changing your pronouns, I guess.”
“I will,” Shadow nods, ears finally lifting away from his skull. Sonic takes this as his cue to stop petting him. “I’ll consider it. You altered your appearance with hormones, and I’ve wondered if I can do the same. I may speak to a scientist I’m,” he pauses and makes a face momentarily, “familiar with. He would be best suited to offering me advice.”
“Be careful who you talk to,” is Sonic’s instant reply- yes, Shadow is ageless, uncontainable, and unkillable but that doesn’t mean he can’t get hurt. If not physically, then emotionally (Sonic briefly questions why he cares. It’s dumb to question by now). “Some people are… y’know. Really awful about, uh,” how does he say this? “Wanting to change your body.”
“I know, I’ll be fine,” Shadow scoots closer and changes the topic so abruptly it gives Sonic mental whiplash. “You said we could kiss. I want to kiss you.”
“Yeah, I did,” Sonic concedes, and there’s the tail wag. Shadow wastes zero time, he crawls into Sonic’s lap and, to his surprise, hesitates.
“Can I appreciate your chest before it’s gone?” the hedgehog asks, settling his hands just below the chest in question. That’s not how Sonic would’ve asked that, but he tips his head in acknowledgement anyways.
“Yeah, you can,” because fuck it, why not? Shadow’s had his furry palms all over Sonic already, might as well let the little creep live out his fantasies while he’s able to. He doesn’t wait any longer after he’s given the go ahead, Shadow’s hands sneak up and squeeze gently.
It feels kinda good despite Sonic’s discomfort, and he doesn’t do anything but accept it when the creature leans in to kiss him. Chastely at first, but it’s probably twenty seconds at most before the touch of Shadow’s lips intensifies- long, deep presses of skin on skin. The hands on Sonic’s chest fondle and squeeze, the friction of his shirt doubling the sensation.
Shadow hums into his mouth and breaks away to ask, “Can we have sex?”
“No,” the instant rejection makes him droop, but Shadow doesn’t give up.
“I want you. I want to make you feel good,” he grips a tad harder, applying pressure to Sonic’s left nipple with his thumb and forefinger (Sonic is clueless as to why he doesn’t go for both nips if he’s attempting seduction). “I can… I can be satisfied with kissing. But I’d like more than that, I want all of you.”
“I’m not in the mood, dude,” it’s not a lie, Sonic isn’t very turned on, he’s mostly just sleepy. “We can kiss,” Shadow’s for sure gonna come from that but that’s not full on fucking so whatever, “and you can feel me up but I don’t wanna go farther.”
“...Okay,” Shadow says, very obviously disappointed. Too bad, so sad. Sonic ends the conversation by leaning in and kissing Shadow until he inevitably splooges all over Sonic’s shirt.
Having revelations about Shadow’s brain regrowing and his dysphoria distracts Sonic from the whole physical exam thing. When he wakes up nearing the end of his shift, it’s not at the forefront of his mind, but the anxiety lingers in the background. If he focuses on it at all, it’ll grow, and he’s trying not to let it grow.
Instead of worrying about an inevitable event he can’t do shit about, he goes home (in a shirt that could be cleaner), eats the dinner Shadow made (he calls it breakfast, Sonic giggles stupidly when they argue, he’s fucked) and cleans up around his apartment (sort of). There’s not much to do- having Shadow around has helped keep things orderly, especially in the kitchen.
He vacuums. He goes for a run. He comes home and Shadow’s there, as excited as he always is to see him. Shadow tells him he smells nice, he tells Shadow he needs to shower, the hedgehog asks to join.
He allows it.
Maybe he makes Shadow come while they’re washing up, but that’s not important.
There’s nothing to do but sit around and wait, so Sonic lays on the couch and scrolls on his phone. Shadow rests atop him, a grounding weight, purring gently. Sonic shows him stupid videos and memes he’ll understand, his deep laugh reverberates through Sonic’s bones, his smile makes him feel weirdly mushy and tender.
He kinda wants to pet Shadow until he creams himself again but he can’t only do that, there’s gotta be some variety in his daily activities.
The time ticks away, seconds to minutes to hours. As Sonic starts getting ready for work, he tries not to think about what the future holds for him. Shadow provides a decent distraction, but there’s only so much the hedgehog can do. Sonic kinda wishes he could take a Xanax or eat an edible or something, but doing drugs and driving is not on his agenda.
The last thing he needs is to get pulled over. Also, he doesn’t have Xanax or edibles in the first place (sad).
As he’s brushing his teeth, Shadow (who is sitting on the toilet lid) says, “Since you don’t want me there at your appointment, I’m going to speak to Robotnik while you’re occupied.”
“Robotnik?” Sonic asks after his mouth is cleared of toothpaste. “Is he the science guy who could help you with hormones?”
“Yes.”
“Huh. Weird name. Well, be careful,” Sonic says, rinsing and patting his face dry with the towel hanging beside his mirror. “I hope he can help.”
“I do too, but he’s a difficult man. I’ll have to see what he says. I doubt we’ll be able to strike a deal.”
“...Okay,” Sonic doesn’t know what to say, exiting the room to get a coat and collect his keys. Shadow follows. “I guess I’ll see you after my appointment.”
“You will,” Shadow says (of course). “I’ll miss you.”
Sonic doesn’t reply to that. Instead, he gathers what he needs, doing his best not to focus on his steadily accumulating anxiety. As he’s putting his shoes on, he says, “I know I already said be careful and I know you’re immortal and stuff, but seriously. People can be awful if you’re trans. Or whatever you wanna call yourself.”
“Yes. I’m aware,” Shadow stands close, nearly nose to nose with Sonic as he ties his shoes. “I can handle it.”
Sonic sighs quietly. He doesn’t say that he wishes Shadow wouldn’t have to just handle it, that he wishes it could be easy, that he wishes he didn’t know just how much it hurts to have people degrade him for a fundamental aspect of his person. “Let me know how it goes.”
“I will, I-” Shadow leans close to kiss Sonic chastely, for just a moment. “I’m going now. I’ll see you later.”
“Later, buddy,” he says. Shadow beams at him and disappears.
He’s only alone for two seconds. The hedgehog reappears before he has the chance to move, grabs his face and kisses him much less chastely, and says, “I love you,” before vanishing again.
Sonic’s face is hot. He touches his lips stupidly, his dumb ass butterflies are going crazy.
I’m so fucked, dude.
The positive emotions don’t last, unfortunately, and he heads to work unbearably nervous. The hour drive builds the anticipation to a sickening degree, Sonic is shaking by the time he arrives. Minute trembling in his hands, anxious sweat on his skin. He feels like someone took his heart, squeezed every drop of blood out of it, and shoved it back in his chest willy nilly. Every inch of his body is tense.
This sucks and I wanna go home.
The details are on his tablet as Miss Rose said they would be. He’s supposed to head to floor 18 ASAP, go to the door in the west wing labeled “56B”, and there are no further instructions. They couldn’t have given him a summary of what’ll happen during the visit? No hints, not a single clue?
Of course not, what was he expecting.
So he does what he was told to do, trying not to panic about it. He doesn’t see Shadow. Despite telling him that he didn’t want his presence during the exam, he kinda wishes his “boyfriend” were here right now.
I’m so, so fucked, dude.
The walk to room 56B is torturous. Sonic wants to turn and run, every step he takes amplifies the fear. He reaches the door- steel, grey, nondescript like most of the doors in this place- turns the chunky handle, and heads inside.
He enters a small waiting room, not unlike a clinic or a hospital. A person sits behind a desk to his left, watching him. There are comfortable looking chairs lined up against the walls, a brown couch near the back, and a few broad leafed plants he doesn’t recognize on tables distributed evenly between the other furniture. Another metal door marks the far wall, Sonic is sure he’ll be stepping through it soon.
The normalcy of it all does not comfort him.
He walks up to the desk clerk (fuck, he does not want to be here) and says, “My name is Nicholas Anderson-Gonzalez, I’m here for an exam…?”
The clerk says, “I’ll check you in, Mr. Anderson-Gonzalez. Please have a seat, one of our doctors will be with you shortly.”
“Thanks,” he says, and stiffly makes his way to the couch. If he’s gonna be uncomfortable, he might as well take the best seat in the house. At least he didn’t have to have a conversation about why he’s being examined.
He might die if he has to explain this situation to anyone else. Hopefully the doctor already knows what’s up and he won’t have to rehash it.
Hopefully.
He’s probably gonna have to rehash it.
There’s no offered entertainment, no magazines or books or jack shit to do but twiddle his thumbs, so Sonic gets his phone out and opens up a mobile game he can play without data. The instant he does, generic fantasy music blasts from the speakers, startling him. He hastily mutes his phone (why was the volume maxed out), saying, “Sorry, my bad,” when the desk guy gives him a look.
It’s not a good distraction. All he can think about is the mysterious exam and Shadow’s absence. Sonic taps idly at his phone and waits, and waits, and waits some more, wiping the sweat on his hands off on his pants every so often. The couch creaks each time he moves, it annoys him. He doesn’t know if the anticipation will be worse than the actual event itself, he’s shaking in his boots (tennis shoes) regardless.
The door to his right opens, Sonic’s head shoots up. An older man enters, his salt and pepper hair cut short. He’s kind of blocky, square faced and built like a wall. His ghostly pale skin makes the redness of his cheeks and nose stand out. No doctor was gonna bring comfort in this situation and Sonic kinda expected a wrinkly dude, but he was hoping for someone with mom energy. This guy does not have mom energy.
“Nicholas Anderson-Gonzalez?” he asks. His voice is kinda raspy, higher pitched than Sonic was anticipating.
“That’s me,” Sonic gets up, dusting himself off pointlessly. He walks to the doctor’s side, trying not to look as externally nervous as he is internally (he’s not sure he succeeds).
“I’m Dr. Richard Johnson, nice to meet you,” says the man, and Sonic wonders if people call him Dick Johnson and how he feels about that. He keeps these thoughts inside and follows Dr. Johnson into a hallway that’s about as generic as the waiting room was.
“Nice to meet you too,” Sonic says, still not comforted by the average clinic vibe. Beyond the closed office doors, who knows what crazy shit might be going on? Experiments? Torture? Probably not, but Sonic’s mind runs wild with possibilities anyways.
“We’ll be in room 4,” Dr. Johnson opens the door helpfully marked with a 4 and heads straight for the computer and swivel chair near the back. There are informative posters on the walls, one of those tables with a crinkly blue sheet atop it and a couple non-swivel chairs by the right wall, a sink and a cabinet and a tiny attached bathroom to the left. It’s a lot like Shadow’s room, which isn’t a surprise. “Please have a seat.”
Sonic obeys and sits on the patient table thing (what are they called? Is it just an exam table, or does it have a fancy name? He’ll have to look it up later), hoping he doesn’t get so afraid his stomach revolts. He’s getting there and the lack of knowledge is only worsening his condition. “So, uh, what kinda exam am I taking part in?”
“They didn’t tell you?” Dr. Johnson asks, then he sighs shortly. “Of course they didn’t. You’ll be receiving a checkup like you would with your primary care provider, you’ll have blood and urine samples taken, and I’ll be giving you two vaccines. Before that, though, we’ll go over your medical history and any changes that have occurred since you came into contact with 013-EA.”
“Thirteen E A?” Sonic asks. Is that what they call Shadow if they’re not calling him by his name? Also, thank fuck, he’s not gonna have to take his clothes off. Some of his anxiety lessens- it doesn’t leave fully, though.
“You know him as Shadow,” Dr. Johnson answers. “013-EA is his designation in our files.”
“Got it,” Sonic says, vaguely recalling seeing that set of letters and numbers in Shadow’s file (he has no clue what they mean, all he can think of is EA Sports and he highly doubts that’s relevant). “I’ve filled out my medical history a few times recently, it hasn’t changed since the last time I did, just so you know.”
“I’m aware, but it’s a formality we have to cover,” Johnson types for a few seconds, then he asks, “You’re not presenting with any symptoms of illness at the moment, correct?”
“Yeah- I mean no, I’m not,” Sonic says, and mentally prepares to redescribe his family’s medical history yet again. Luckily for him, it doesn’t take long- just reconfirming that many of his relatives are anxious and/or depressed, some of them have ADHD and/or autism, they have higher rates of breast, pancreatic, and colon cancer than the national average as well as hypertension, et cetera. Yes, he has an anxiety diagnosis, and a gender dysphoria one too (Dr. Johnson doesn’t comment on that beyond saying “I wouldn’t have guessed you’re female to male”, which isn’t the worst thing Sonic has heard from a medical professional, so whatever).
He hasn’t had any major changes occur since he met Shadow and he says that, leaving out all of the fine print. Almost all of it. He dances around the subject as much as he can, besides admitting in a very small voice, “Yeah, I did have unprotected sex with him, and I haven’t felt sick or anything.”
Luckily, Dr. Johnson doesn’t seem like he wants to discuss the fine print either. They move on from that pretty hastily.
Nothing absolutely terrible happens somehow, and they continue- Dr. Johnson takes Sonic’s height and weight, checks his temperature and blood pressure (higher than it should be, but that’s stress related for sure and probably not a sign of hypertension), taps on his knees to make sure they work properly, and all the other typical going to the doctor stuff. It’s more boring than fear inducing, and Sonic slowly starts to relax. He’s not looking forward to giving a urine sample and having his blood drawn, but he’s not butt ass naked and being stared at by a stranger, so he’s counting his blessings.
After the checkup process, Dr. Johnson gives him a small sealed plastic container, sterilizing wipes, and directs him to the bathroom. He says, “I’ll wait in the hall. Leave your sample in the biohazard box beside the door,” and Sonic is grateful for the extra privacy. He gets that done as fast as possible (damn, peeing in a tiny cup is hard), and as he sits back down on the exam table, the hair on the back of his neck stands up and the sensation of being watched begins.
Dr. Johnson enters the room before Sonic can speak to the empty air. When he glances down at the vent near the floor in the back, he catches a glimpse of glowing red.
He’s here.
At least he’s not doing anything but watching.
Sonic pretends Shadow isn’t lurking as Dr. Johnson sets up vials and asks him to hold out his right arm. He prods around the interior of Sonic’s elbow (there’s definitely a medical term for that he doesn’t know) for a vein, and as Dr. Johnson aims the needle, a guttural snarl sounds from the vent.
He flinches but doesn’t jab Sonic, thankfully, turning to look in the direction of the noise. Sonic says, “Shadow, he’s just taking my blood, chill out.”
“He’s going to hurt you,” Shadow does not sound pleased, holy shit. “If he hurts you, I’ll hurt him.”
“You’re not gonna do that. It’ll hurt but I’ll be fine, it’s just a blood draw,” Sonic gives the doctor a thumbs up with his free hand. “I’m ready when you are, doc.”
“Is this necessary? Can’t you skip this step?” Shadow asks, his claws curling around the slats of the vent. Dr. Johnson looks between Sonic and the protruding furry fingers, somewhat nervous.
“It’s necessary. I’ll do this and we can go to your room and read or play Mystery Dungeon or whatever afterwards. Okay?” Sonic tries his best to sound soothing.
It must work, because Shadow growls quietly and huffs, “Fine. Doctor man, if you don’t do it right on the first try, I’ll show you what it’s like to lose your blood.”
“You remember what I said about threatening people and making things worse? Don’t do that,” Sonic mentally sighs and says to Johnson, “You got the go ahead. Let’s do this.”
Dr. Johnson visibly refocuses and replies, “Yes. You’ll feel a little prick, but it’ll be finished quickly.”
The sensation of being watched intensifies, Sonic’s hair stands on end, but he ignores it (and the sweat beginning to bead on the doctor’s temple). He looks away as the needle punctures his arm. Yeah, it hurts a bit, but it’s not that bad. It’s worse than giving himself a T shot, sure, but it’s nowhere near as painful as the time he sliced open his palm while making a truly hideous, extraordinarily sloppy sub sandwich at Arby’s.
Like the doc said, it’s over fast. The vials fill up, Dr. Johnson removes the needle and puts a cotton ball over the wound and tapes it down, and that’s it. This is when Sonic remembers the vaccines and says, “Shadow says he can’t get sick or give anyone diseases. I’ll get vaxxed if it’s required, but I’m probably fine?”
“As far as we know, Shadow is immune to all biological contagions, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. You’re not up to date on your DTaP vaccine- that’s tetanus, diphtheria, and pertussis, and you’ll be receiving a series of rabies vaccinations over the next two weeks,” Dr. Johnson explains, and Sonic is glad the list isn’t longer (although he’s not looking forward to a series of shots. Yikes). “We’ll start today, and you’ll come back to see me in three days for the next dose.”
“I don’t carry rabies or tetanus or any of those other diseases,” Shadow says, low and irritated. “Like Sonic said, I’m not spreading pathogens, and I can’t get him pregnant either. There’s no need to vaccinate or continue to examine him.”
“We have to test for pregnancy and give him vaccines,” Dr. Johnson responds awkwardly to the vent, Shadow’s fingers grip the metal hard enough to make it creak. “It’s procedure, and it’s best to cover all our bases.”
Shadow growls, “It’s not needed, he isn’t-”
Sonic interrupts him. “Shadow, it’s okay, if I get the vaccines then I won’t be at risk for catching that crap from something else. It’s gonna hurt but I’ll be fine. If we argue with Dr. Johnson, we’ll have less time to hang out afterwards.”
That shuts him up. His fingers retreat from the vent cover, leaving bent metal in their wake. The only indicators he’s still present are his glowing red eyes and the never abating sensation of being stared at.
Sonic says to the doctor, “Let’s just get this over with.”
The stories about rabies shots are true- damn, they hurt. Also, he gets the first one in his arm, not in his buttcheek like he thought. The other shot- Sonic can’t remember what it’s called but he does recall the tetanus and diphtheria part- also stings like a son of a gun. When Sonic winces, Shadow makes this awful clicking hiss. To Dr. Johnson’s credit, he doesn’t even twitch. Sonic tells Shadow to take a chill pill, he growls at him.
Dr. Johnson says, “You’ll be referred to an onsite gynecologist, but whether or not you accept that visit is up to you. It’s highly recommended if you’re having sexual contact with an entity that can’t be reliably studied.”
Oh, that’s a million times better than all the scenarios Sonic was imagining and not phrased in a way that made him any more uncomfortable than he already was. He says, “I’ll think about it. Thanks, Dr. Johnson.”
“You’re welcome. You’re good to go, Nicholas,” he replies. “Thanks for being an easy patient. You may return to your-”
Shadow teleports onto the exam table and grabs Sonic by the forearm. “We’re leaving.”
The creature glares at the doctor, who seems a little startled but not nearly as nervous as he was earlier. Sonic wonders if Johnson is having the same realizations he did upon seeing Shadow in person for the first time, like: Oh, so fuzzy, I want to pet him. Maybe that’s just a Sonic thing.
He isn’t given any more time to ponder- in the blink of an eye he’s no longer in the small exam room, he’s in Shadow’s personal small exam room. The hedgehog teleported them directly onto the bed, which is a lot more comfortable than the table, so Sonic isn’t complaining.
Before Shadow can say anything, Sonic asks, “How was your talk with- uh, what was his name again?”
“Robotnik. It went how I expected it to go,” Shadow says grumpily, letting go of Sonic’s hand and standing in front of him. What’s he up to? “He offered to help me, but only if I subjected myself to his tests. I said no, obviously.”
“I’m sorry,” Sonic says as Shadow holds his face in both hands. The creature’s fuzzy brows are furrowed, the corners of his lips downturned. “Is there anyone else you can talk to?”
“I’m not sure, I’ll sort it out. I don’t want to linger on it, I just want to kiss you.”
Sonic considers pressing the issue. He doesn’t really want to, he’s a little disgusted with himself that he actually wants to kiss Shadow instead of talking. Just a little. Why is it so easy to give in? Sonic says, “Go ahead, then.”
Shadow dives in, his lips soft and inhumanly warm. His thumbs pet Sonic’s cheeks, and it’s oddly easy to relax into the contact. It’s nice, it’s comfortable, it’s just what Sonic needs to come down from the stress of his appointment. The fact it’s giving him butterflies and not making him sick to his stomach should be a problem.
It’s not.
Sonic slinks a hand behind Shadow and pulls him closer. The hedgehog stumbles, their teeth clack. Laughing softly, Sonic says, “Let’s make this easier on both of us.”
He releases Shadow and lays back, propped up by the collection of blankets. The hedgehog stares, frozen in place.
Sonic says, “Don’t leave me hanging.”
“I love you,” Shadow whispers like he’s in a trance. He drops to his knees on the mattress and leans in to kiss Sonic, furred palms cupping his face as per usual. Sonic carefully sneaks a hand into Shadow’s quills, hoping he won’t prick himself- those things are wicked sharp. Sighing into the kiss, Shadow licks Sonic’s lower lip (he takes the hint).
It’s easy to make out with Shadow, even with his thin lips and sharp fangs. His furred hands travel lower, but only to Sonic’s shoulders. He’s quieter than usual but no less passionate, and he breaks away from the kiss for a moment to say, “I like being close to you.”
Does Sonic like being close to him? He sorta likes being close to him and touching and kissing or whatever, letting himself be Shadow’s everything. The attention is fun, but pretending he’s just enjoying the affection and feeling nothing but physical attraction is impossible.
Those feelings are the weirdest part, as they always will be. Butterflies where they don’t belong in Sonic’s stomach, stupid innocent non-sexual fuzzy feelings that aren’t anything but what they are: Sonic is maybe crushing on him (or something).
It just keeps getting worse. Shadow doesn’t make it easy, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t happening.
Between a kiss, Sonic says, “I know you do,” and impulsively adds, “I, uh, I do too.”
Shadow lips press harder, his hands fist in Sonic’s shirt. By now, it’s easy to recognize when Shadow’s tail is wagging out of sight just by the way it makes his body move. Sonic’s free hand finds the creature’s hip, he scratches under the fur there and Shadow shivers. Breaking the kiss, Shadow leans back enough to give Sonic the gooiest heart eyes known to man (or anthro hedgehog).
With a dumb grin and ridiculously dilated pupils Shadow repeats himself for the kajillionth time: “I love you.”
Sonic’s heart jumps in his chest and not in an awful way. Instead of responding verbally, he adjusts his hold on Shadow. He slides the hand on Shadow’s hip up his back, past his quills and over his shoulder. Gently scraping his fingers through Shadow’s neck fur and up to his chin makes him start purring, loud. His eyes flutter shut and he melts into the contact like his strings have been cut. Arching into Sonic’s touch like he’s a cat.
It’s so cute. Sonic’s heart is pounding. Oh god, this is really it. He’s not going to say those three words back but Shadow has charmed him or something, he kinda wants to.
He doesn’t even think it would be a lie.
He cautiously removes his other hand from Shadow’s quills to scratch the other side of his face. It’s obviously doing a lot for Shadow, who purrs like a motor and tugs on Sonic’s shirt whenever he twitches involuntarily. He whines a little, he sounds amazing when he loses control of his voice, utterly pathetic in a way Sonic can’t help but find endearing.
Sonic can’t help himself, he has to. In a swift move he reverses their positions and pushes Shadow down onto the mattress, who falls back without resisting. His hands return to petting the hedgehog, and Shadow’s brief look of surprise morphing into ecstasy is so worth it. He’s fully hard, that’s no surprise.
This is Sonic’s other problem. Caressing his stalker creature until he comes and makes a bunch of pretty noises is stupidly fun. As if Sonic could resist Shadow’s unfortunate adorableness forever.
Eyelids fluttering open for a moment and then squeezing shut, Shadow gasps airily, “Hah, ah, Sonic…”
He’s dripping precome on his stomach fur and he can’t seem to stop writhing, he’s close. One of Sonic’s hands travels lower to the hedgehog’s fluffy chest, his fingers combing through white fur. His purr makes his words extra rumbly when he says, “Sonic, that feels so good, please…”
He finds one of Shadow’s nipples and carefully pinches it. Moaning, Shadow bucks his hips into the air but doesn’t finish, to Sonic’s surprise. It’s kinda impressive, given his track record. Although he doesn’t end up beating his time by much, Shadow whimpers desperately and shoots off when Sonic scratches under jaw juuust right.
This shouldn’t entertain Sonic as much as it does. It shouldn’t arouse him, or make him oddly happy. It does. His voice comes out quiet and unintentionally sensual when he says, “You just can’t help it, can you?”
Still twitching and making little noises under his breath, Shadow manages a whiny, “Mm-mm,” and only a fraction steadier as his eyes crack open he says, “I want to make you feel good too.”
“I’m not really in the mood for it, bud,” Sonic says, which is true. He’s a little horny but he doesn’t feel like dealing with the mess. “Maybe another time.”
“You touch me more than I touch you,” Shadow murmurs. To no one’s shock, he remains hard. “I want you to feel as incredible as I do.”
“You make me feel good,” Sonic says, which is somewhat true. “I don’t need you to touch me for me to have fun. I’m not telling you no because I hate you or anything, I’m just not feeling it right now. I, uh, like petting you, though.”
“I see,” Shadow smiles sweetly, exhaling a soft sigh through his nose. “I like when you pet me too. May I have a kiss?”
“Yeah, you can,” Sonic leans down, Shadow’s trembly hands reach up to tangle in his hair. Purring against Sonic’s lips, Shadow kisses him slow and tender, like they have all the time in the world.
They kinda do, actually.
That morning after work, Sonic decides to press the topic of Shadow’s talk with Robotnik. Laying in bed in just his boxers and socks with Shadow curled up by his side, Sonic isn’t sure he wants to disrupt the peaceful moment with a chat about something serious. He’s curious, though, he can’t be blamed for that.
Pausing the video they’d been watching (a summary of a bad Christmas movie Sonic never plans on watching), he asks, “Hey, Shadow, you said that Robotnik said he’d help you if you let him do tests on you. What kinda tests did you mean by that?”
Shadow tenses, the itty bitty purr he’d been emitting halting in an instant. He nuzzles his face into Sonic’s side and mumbles, “Nothing good. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Are you sure? Sometimes it’s good to talk about stuff,” Sonic realizes the words that were about to pass through his filter, thinks on them for a few seconds, and says them anyways. “I’m your partner, so I should support you when you’re struggling or when something bad happens, right?”
“...Yes,” Shadow hesitates, then he says, “Robotnik wanted to test the limits of my regenerative capabilities without damaging my brain. He suggested removing my head and seeing how long it would take for my body to grow back. He implied it may speed up the effects of hormone therapy on my body, although I’m not sure if he said that to taunt me, or if it has any real scientific basis.”
Sonic had been expecting garden variety transphobia, not… that. Disgusted and horrified, he blurts, “Fuck that guy, what the hell? That’s awful. I’m sorry, buddy.”
“It was awful. I don’t like interacting with him. If I couldn’t teleport, he’d have me strapped to a table and dissected,” Shadow’s somber tone reaches into the deepest parts of Sonic’s heart and yanks on the strings there, hard. “I thought about talking to Rose, and I might. She wouldn’t say such things to me. I don’t know if she could help me, but it’d be worth a shot.”
“I think that’d go better than talking with Robotnik,” Sonic does his best not to sound angry. Despite his complex and confusing feelings for Shadow, all he wants to do is slug the man who threatened him hard enough to knock a few teeth out. He’s so appalled, he doesn’t know what to say. “I get why you called him difficult now, he seems like a piece of shit.”
“I don’t prefer to interact with him. He’s highly intelligent, but he’s cruel.”
“That’s one way to put it,” Sonic says, remembering when he was considering killing Shadow. Not long ago, maybe he would’ve turned to Robotnik for help if he’d known the man existed. Now he can’t fathom it. Being with Shadow doesn’t feel right, exactly, but it feels hideously wrong to think about hurting him. “I know you’re the Ultimate Lifeform or whatever, but are you sure you’re safe from him?”
“We have an uneasy truce. He knows I could kill or maim him. I know he could severely damage my brain. Neither of us wants those things to happen. We don’t get along, so we don’t talk unless we have to,” explaining this like it’s normal, Shadow uncurls from beside Sonic. As he speaks, he rearranges to lay on his front halfway atop Sonic, like he’s an oversized pet cat or something. He lays his chin on Sonic’s chest, and one of his hands ends up on Sonic’s left boob, but Shadow doesn’t grab or caress. His hand is just there, his slow breaths warm Sonic’s skin.
Has anyone ever looked at Sonic the way Shadow does? He doesn’t think so. He realizes he’s been staring and a normal pause in conversation wouldn’t last this long. As he wraps his arms around Shadow he stammers, “Yeah, that’s- yeah, better to stay far away from him, um, as far away from him as you can get.”
Shadow says softly, “Sonic?” and as if testing something, leans closer.
Sonic shivers. He doesn’t know what kinda face he’s making right now. His feelings are doing their best to be as abnormal as possible. Trying to get the conversation back on track, he says, “Miss Rose will probably have good advice,” the fingers previously resting flat on Sonic’s chest find his nipple and roll it (why does that feel so damn good). He stutters, “D-Dude, I thought we were talking.”
“How can I want to talk about them when I have you, right in front of me. Looking at me like that,” Shadow says, kissing Sonic’s bare skin. “Someday you’ll love me.”
That statement is annoying, but if Sonic allows himself a moment of honesty, Shadow isn’t wrong. “Someday” may be sooner than the hedgehog thinks, or maybe not if Sonic breaks free of this bizarre spiral of stomach twisting feelings he’s tumbled into. He doubts that’ll happen, falling further is significantly easier than climbing out.
He says, “Is there anyone you can report Robotnik to? I assume that’s not,” his breath hitches as Shadow tugs on his nipple, “an option.”
“He wouldn’t be punished. I don’t want to think about him anymore,” Shadow says, frowning mildly. “Do you want me to stop?”
Unsure of everything he’s feeling, Sonic decides mixing unsteady emotions with sex is a bad idea and says, “Yeah, stop doing that for now. I wanna go to sleep soon.”
Shadow’s hand reluctantly leaves his boob. “I… understand. Now isn’t the time. Maybe later?”
“Maybe later.”
Shadow shuts his eyes and mumbles, “I love you.”
Sonic smooths Shadow’s quills back and replies, “Thanks for listening when I told you to stop.”
“I’m trying to be respectful,” Shadow’s purr makes a return as Sonic scratches the base of one of his ears. “I’m going to make you chicken gnocchi soup later.”
“You’re doing pretty good at being respectful, all things considered. You want me to help with the soup?”
Shadow’s tail wags. He cracks his eyes open just a sliver. “I would love that. If you keep touching me like this, you’re going to arouse me.”
Sonic’s hand leaves Shadow’s ear to rest on the hedgehog’s lower back instead. “My bad,” he decides to let the subject of Robotnik be and says, “Wanna keep watching YouTube or do something else?”
“I want you to read to me. Please.”
“I can do that.”
So he does. Sonic picks a schlocky romance fantasy novel, reads aloud and trips over his words as Shadow gradually falls asleep on his chest, purring.
He’s not thinking about his biweekly exams, or his reports, or his therapy, or Shadow’s mysterious, fucked up past. He’s not thinking about his job, or money, or all the humiliation he’s faced since meeting the creature he now calls his boyfriend. Sonic isn’t thinking about much of anything- just that he’s content, in spite of how wrong it all is.
No, it’ll never be normal, and it isn’t exactly healthy either, but does it need to be?
Shadow may be the cause of most of Sonic’s problems, but he cares and he’s trying, and that’s enough for now.
Wishing for something better gets him nowhere.
Sonic carefully cards his fingers through Shadow’s quills until his unconscious purr lulls him to sleep.