Yours truly

Another thing I want to say is about my sibling's writing. I think their fics are amazing and carefully constructed, filled with research and great interpretation of characters. They also write incredible angst, so that's a plus

But lately they have been experiencing burn out as well, and the minute it starts getting better, they happened to read an anonymous ask towards one of their favorite artist

While I will not state exactly what it was about, let's just say it made them very upset. Fanfic writing started out because they wanted to express themselves, but then it delved into wanting to know what others thought about it

It got to the point, this point, that they feel like they are doing wrong by a fandom. Due to the popular ships in the fandom they're in being shit on (because of toxic relationship, nonsense because they have no interactions in the canon material, etc.), they felt like writing a fic they're working on was wrong

Even though, in my opinion, it's super well-written, they still feel like it's not how people would want the characters' interaction to be/look like

So, I'd just like to say this to everyone, new or old to creating art/fics: You do not need to listen to everyone's opinion and you do not need to please anyone. You write/draw what you like as long as you enjoy doing it, and as long as it isn't morally wrong

I've learnt it the hard way. I didn't use to write fanfics, but rather original works I thought of myself. I gave it to my cousins (who knew English) to comment on, and all they do is shit on it even without understanding the context. They asked questions before finishing the whole chapter and gave vague opinions on it without any value

I'm sorry for making this long, but I am very worried for them. I don't want them to throw away what they love just because of someone else's opinions

It is quite a gloomy morning, all things considered. Despite the shining sun, the crowded shops and stores and the traffic happening from afar, G.U.N. still possess that strange looming feeling that something is up. Anyone working for a long time would know that feeling well, but now it would just be a static feeling, buzzing relentlessly at the back of their minds.

Two agents, one being the second in command of the Decoding Unit, occupy a table in the break room. They are chatting back and forth about an incident that happened a week prior, something that regards the Doctor. The details weren’t clear, everyone who witnessed it are already paid to keep their mouth shut about it, but rumors and speculations have sprouted before then.

“Well, it sounds like him to do something like that,” one of them spoke up, leaning back in her chair with a lax posture barely anyone in G.U.N. possesses, “I mean, have you met the guy? He doesn’t speak and that stare of his is just… Eugh, so unsettling.”

The other massages his temples with two fingers, sighing tiredly as he stares at the coffee before him. He looks up to the other agent, watching her expression shifts from relax to distracted, the lower half of her face obscured by the cup in her hand; it doesn’t look like she is even drinking its content.

“Look, Rennie, let’s not talk shit about the guy. If his insane agent knows we are, then we would end up like the last group of agents who did that.” He said, tipping his cup of coffee back and forth, careful not to spill the liquid inside.

He looks up to the agent across from him, watching her groan slightly into the cup before putting it down. He eyes the cup with mild disgust. He scoots his chair away from the table to put some distance between him and the cup.

“Kurtis, it isn’t that serious! It’s fine for us to complain and comment sometimes, no? Besides, Robotnik is out on a mission, he wouldn’t be back for another hour and a half.” Said Rennie, whose name has been forgotten by others over the months of being referred to by  her by the nickname.

Kurtis looks skeptically at his cousin, wondering why she would make such a claim; Dr. Stone has bug planted all over G.U.N., there is no possible way of guessing where there isn’t at least one. If he so felt like it, he might reveal the footage or audio record to his agent and they’ll all be dead.

They both get up a while after, walking back to the elevator to get back to their floor. The lens of a little bot constricts then dilates, its hiding spot behind the coffee counter providing a safe spot for it to spy on the agents in G.U.N.

It’s no doubt someone is going to get in trouble later that week.

~

It is around midday, perhaps a few minutes before noon, when several unmarked vans pull up into the basement of G.U.N. Above grounds, the distant thrumming of the chopper’s blades quiet down before nothing is heard but the static sound in their heads. The people inside sigh in unison, more or less glad they have made it back alive.

Agent Robotnik has just returned from a mission, his suit and tie torn to a degree that wasn’t all that bad, but it isn’t any better either. As the other agents swarm out of the vans, chatting with each other about the “badass” moments during the mission and complaining about the aches and pains in their muscles.

He gets out of the van, the last of the agents to exit and enter G.U.N., falling into steps with the agents that walked before him. Sometimes, whenever Agent Robotnik decides to look to the side or pay some attention to what is before him, a glimpse of red, pink or white would appear. He rules it out with the fact that he is too exhausted and that his eyes are playing tricks on him.

The Agent avoids any kind of conversation with his colleagues and entirely spacing out during debriefing. It was a rough day, running back and forth with a poorly drawn floorplan and adrenaline pumping in his veins like his blood has never existed, so naturally talking to people he doesn’t care about is at the las thing in his list priorities.

After the briefing, the agents are given two hours of break, letting the more exhausted ones regain their bearings to get back to work. Agent Robotnik sits silently in the locker room in his undershirt and pants, bandages wrapped around his hands up to his wrists, face covered with scars and re-opened ones. It’s always him being the last to get back to their feet, getting left behind without a single question about how he was feeling.

Agent Robotnik sighs, a solemn and defeated one as he places his head in his palms, smoothing his thumbs over the top of his head in an attempt to tame his unruly hair.

So lethal on the field and demanding of perfection, people don’t view him as anything but another self-proclaimed pompous asshole. It’s tiring having to bear in mind that there is always someone badmouthing him, that there is another person out there with the same skill sets but seen as an idol instead of someone to be hated. Agent Robotnik would say that they are jealous of his genius, and while that is true to some, others just wanted to poke fun at him, just want to corner him until he isn’t able to think of a way out.

Pushing him to his very limit until he gives up on the title of ‘the smartest man alive’ and just blend in with the mindless masses.

With another sigh, this one more frustrated at the situation he is forced into, Agent Robotnik gets up and begins cleaning himself of the blood that got stuck. He changes the bandages, just so he doesn’t look like he returned from a gang fight, and throws on his usual suit and tie.

Agent Robotnik takes another look at himself in the mirror, smoothing the gel over his hair to get it to stay in place and fixing his tie. The Agent drops his arms limply to his sides, staring at himself in the small mirror for a moment before promptly flashing a smile at his reflection. Reminding himself that he is the great Robotnik sometimes lifts his mood.

Agent Robotnik shuts his locker, the sound echoing throughout the small room. He leaves the locker room and heads for the breakroom, occasionally checking his watch to make sure he isn’t about to make a late coffee delivery to the Doctor. God knows what that man would do if the Agent fails to deliver his drink.

The agents that were with him on the mission have occupied the tables in the break room, talking cheerfully to one another about the completed mission and jokingly complaining of how they have to go back to work with injuries. Robotnik sneers at them silently; if they cannot get back to work with such minor injuries, besides the five that are currently laying in the medical bay, why did they even join G.U.N.?

The Agent places a disposable cup into the machine, listening to the whirring mechanics inside as it begins heating water and combining it with the coffee grounds. A black steaming liquid comes pouring out, landing perfectly in the cup without a single spill. Agent Robotnik waits for a bit to make sure the coffee machine wouldn’t start dripping excess Americano before picking up the cup. He heads to Dr. Stone’s lab, whistling the tune of “Evil Grows In Me” all the way there.

The pnuematic door to the lab opens automatically when his presence is registered, the weird but comforting chilliness inside pouring out like a waterfall during spring. Agent Robotnik enters without another thought, the barely noticeable smile on his lips passing under the dimness of the lab.

He stands by the entrance for a moment, eyes darting around to look for any changes. Unsurprisingly, nothing is displaced besides a few inches to the left, right, further in or further out of its original place. Agent Robotnik quirks up his lips before moving forward with the coffee delivery.

“[Beep boop]! Here is your coffee, Doctor! Right on time, as always.” Agent Robotnik announced with the usual smugness in his voice, approaching the console where Dr. Stone is working at with rigid, robotic-like movements.

Dr. Stone acknowledges him with a quick glance, his wide eyes and dilated pupils telling the Agent that he is glad he has returned from the mission in one piece. Literally speaking. Agent Robotnik flashes his boss a toothy smile before turning away, walking to his desk with the same robotic movements as before.

The Agent watches his boss like a hawk for a few moments after sitting down in his chair, hoping that this time Dr. Stone would actually show some kind of emotion so he knows that the Americano is to his liking. However, he is met with the usual blank stare at the disposable cup before placing it somewhere secure, returning to his work like nothing happened.

Agent Robotnik huffs, more or less upset by the fact that the Doctor is probably not comfortable enough around him to be showing his emotions freely and without judge. He closes his eyes, giving himself a moment of acceptance before bouncing back up, fingers flying across the keyboard as he writes up a brief report of the latest mission and of Dr. Stone’s assignment status.

After he is finished with those few time wasting pages, Agent Robotnik switches to a different tab, reading through some of the emails that Dr. Stone didn’t bother reading, taking notes of the important things and mocking some of them in his head. The words come and go like everyone in G.U.N., with their forgettable faces and even more forgettable names walking around, and soon Agent Robotnik’s eyes begin blurring and the sleepiness kicks in.

The Agent tries desperately to wake himself several times, including methods such as slapping or pinching himself, but that still isn’t enough. Giving into the sweet temptation of a nap after a long mission, Agent Robotnik cushions his head with his arms and passing out almost immediately the moment he laid his head down.

Agent Robotnik wakes up with a start a few moments later, his eyelids still drooping with sleep. What felt like hours of great uninterrupted sleep is apparently just a minute of nap. The Agent rubs his eye of the remaining sleep, glancing around rather confusingly. The Doctor is still in his seat, tapping away at the blue holo-screens before him.

He hums, acknowledging his surroundings before returning to work. The emails are quickly gotten over with, then he moves onto the paperwork files Dr. Stone had asked him to finish from yesterday. After Agent Robotnik finishes, he takes a post-it note and sticks it on one of the paperwork files; just sharing his thoughts to Commander Walters, nothing harmful in that.

The day goes on to be quite normal, with the Doctor being unresponsive to his requests and tiring reminders that they have to get to a meeting with a nameless general or commander. The Doctor only ever sigh quietly, almost as if he has long come to terms with the fact that he would need to interact with people with the intelligence of a potato to get what he wants.

Hours pass and so comes the next endless hours of meetings. Agent Robotnik shoved the papers and reports necessary hazardously into a folder before running after the Doctor’s fast pace, all but pleased with the people around him. As they make their way to the elevator, the Agent and Doctor notice the stomping of footsteps heading their way.

As soon as Agent Robotnik turns around, an agent comes running between them. Agent Robotnik’s quick reflexes allows him to dodge the person, but Dr. Stone is slightly knocked back. Whoever that was is certainly in a hurry, but that did no excuse the agent for bumping into the Doctor; they could have easily

“Hey, watch where you’re going, you imbecile!” Agent Robotnik swiftly turned on his heels and yelled after the agent. Of course, the agent was faraway enough not to hear that warning.

Before the Agent can do something drastic like run after the agent at full speed – despite knowing too well his injuries will prevent him – Dr. Stone grips him by his bicep, affectively stilling the angered agent. Agent Robotnik glances at his boss, and for a split second he wanted to yank his arm away, but his muscles relax and he deflates like a balloon.

They continue to make the rest of their way to the elevator, squeezing in between other higher-ups and fellow agents. Agent Robotnik tries to make space so that he and the Doctor can stand, but someone is clearly not paying attention to who is standing beside him.

Agent Robotnik aggressively nudges the ignorant guy, making him lose his balance and bump into another person. Both look ready to start a scene right in the moving elevator, but upon realizing who is was that inconvenienced them, the fight died like a quickly extinguishing fire and they shut their mouths.

Agent Robotnik and Dr. Stone leave the elevator once they arrive at their floor, making quick work of the distance between them and the conference room. Agent Robotnik opens the door to the conference room, swinging it open aggressively before stopping immediately, making a dramatic entrance for both him and the Doctor.

The occupants within the room all turn their heads to look at the odd duo, some with a mix of irritation and confusion, others just annoyed they have to attend the meeting with the two of them. Commander Walters is sitting at one end of the table, his head hung low with a sigh barely making it through his nostrils.

Agent Robotnik pulls out the last remaining chair for Dr. Stone to sit, who thanked him by staring straight into his soul for a moment before nodding once.

Agent Robotnik stood by his boss’s side, sometimes shifting to the back of his chair or standing a bit closer, leaning down to tell him a rude joke about someone in the room before straightening back up. Dr. Stone never makes any kind of indication that he heard he jokes, is amused or irritated by it, but that is for the best.

As the minutes stretch on, Agent Robotnik starts to wonder if the meeting they are stuck in is going to end anytime soon; the droning voice of I-have-a-receding-hairline-and-a-failing-marriage commander is starting to become harder to stand. The Agent looks back at his watch, eyeing the moving seconds hand as it ticks slowly until he can make out a semi-visible circle floating above the glass.

Agent Robotnik lets his hand falls back down to his side, quickly placing it behind his back once more. The Doctor doesn’t look like he’s doing any better than the Agent; his elbow is propped up on the table supporting his head, hollow eyes wandering whatever fly or dust floating around in the room out of boredom.

The Agent only sigh, not really knowing what else to do to get them out of the room faster. The meeting continues through the presentation, the short-lived discussion and the lines of questions that seem to flow constantly like a river. The meeting is concluded several minutes after that, most people walking out without much complaining while still murmuring to one another about the topics discussed.

The moment the odd duo exit, however, Agent Robotnik begins complaining at the loudest volume possible to Dr. Stone, who walks in relative silence besides the occasional hum of acknowledgement. They make their way through the other higher-ups and their agents, bumping into some of them on purpose just to piss them off.

The Agent did get a rise out of one them, the agent stomping over to him just to complain and insult. Agent Robotnik only wears a smug expression on his face as the agent spat at him, seemingly pouring out all the pent up anger from the times he’s gotten away with trouble. The exchange ended before Agent Robotnik can get his own words his, Dr. Stone stepping in to interfere. He stares the agent down and spoke

Agent Robotnik continues to ramble on about the flaws of humans, how he would never trust any of them to handle his precious machines. If he had any, but for now, the Doctor’s precious machines. Dr. Stone has stopped responding to him altogether, perhaps too tired to continue reminding his agent he was listening or something else.

When they are nearing the lab, Agent Robotnik sped walk before his boss to open the door for him. The Doctor walks past him without another word, Agent Robotnik following right after him. The lab is as they left it besides the litho that is floating around keeping guard of the place. As Dr. Stone approaches his chair by the console, Agent Robotnik goes to pamper the drone with affectionate coos.

“Agent.” The moment the syllables ring out, Agent Robotnik is standing beside him with both of his arms glued to his sides, eyes looking down at him expectantly.

Dr. Stone looks up at with blank eyes, not saying anything to the waiting agent. After a few short moments of prolonged eye contact with barely any blinking involve, the Doctor motions for a miniature litho over, in its claw held a small gift box. Agent Robotnik lifts his head up to the drone, examining the box with a curious and anticipatory gaze.

Agent Robotnik extends his hand, expecting and getting the litho to drop the box into the palm of his hand. Dr. Stone has looked away from him since the little robot came levitating over, his expression cold and unreadable.

“This is for me, boss?” Despite the question and lack of answer, Agent Robotnik still goes to unwrap the present.

The Agent pulls on the bow on top for a split moment before realizing it is just a box designed to look like it’s been wrapped. He grasps the lid and takes it off, tilting the box towards himself to peak at the content stored inside. He didn’t expect to see a neatly wrapped white thing, but he still takes it out and begins unwrapping it hastily.

All the while the Doctor watches him, his eyes betraying nothing of his emotions. He looks on as the Agent holds out a semi-accurate looking plush of himself, Dr. Stone, and stares at it for a minute. It isn’t that big, just the size of a small doll and fit just right when one holds it up by its armpits.

Agent Robotnik is speechless for a moment, not exactly knowing what to do, say or feel. It is a small doll of his boss with most of the details accurate to what he looks like at that very moment, what is he supposed to do? Thanking him might be the best option, but then what? Ask why he gifted him this? It isn’t exactly nice to as why someone spent money on you because that would sound ungrateful.

He glances at his boss to say something and/or ask a question only find that the Doctor is occupied once more, eyes glued to the holo-screens as his fingers glide of them, dragging objects and arraging parts into the 3D model of an assignment.

Without much to do or say now that the Doctor has returned to his tasks, Agent Robotnik walks back to his workstation, still holding and looking at the small doll in his hands, often twisting and turning it to look at the fine details on it. The Agent knows that doll’s eyes are mostly blank and emotionless, but he has never seen one that looked as emotionless as the one he was holding. Must have taken a lot of skill to be able to do that.

Agent Robotnik sits back down in his chair, placing the doll gently into a sitting position next to his laptop screen, making sure that it wouldn’t fall over once his eyes aren’t on it anymore. He continues to work without much problem, but every now and then he looks to the doll and the concern and questions come flooding back.

It isn’t until he glances at the little clock in the corner of his laptop screen that he realizes what day it was. The calendar reads February 14th and what other holidays is on February 14th? None other than the disgusting Valentine’s Day. It is then that Agent Robotnik begins backtracking his day; the strange and occasional red, pink and white colors popping up, the way his colleagues talk nervously and quietly to each other, the exchanging of neatly wrapped gifts with kind smiles…

Does Dr. Stone have feelings for him? How is it possible?

Agent Robotnik is frozen for a moment before continuing the click-clacking of his keyboard, trying to clear his mind of the possibility. He’s only gotten so close to the Doctor as his agent and bodyguard, but if he wants to take it further, Agent Robotnik doesn’t know what he’d say to that.

His mind begins spiraling into the implications, second-guessing himself and thinking of the worst case scenarios like this being the last thing he would receive from Dr. Stone before getting sacked the day after, or that this is the Doctor’s parting gift for him because he is going to get sent on a suicide mission soon.

The little concern beep of a litho hauls Agent Robotnik back to reality. He lifts his head to look at the drone, not even realizing that he has been holding his head for the past ten or so minutes. He smiles stiffly at the drone, reaching out to pat its sleek white hull in an attempt to disperse its worry.

Perhaps Agent Robotnik is overthinking, being a pessimistic he used to be a few years back. Maybe whatever the Doctor wants to imply isn’t all that he thinks it is, maybe it is just a way to show the Agent that he is glad that he is beside him.

Agent Robotnik thinks he will reciprocate Dr. Stone’s feelings, just to show him that he cares and appreciates him as well.

~

Agent Robotnik is fussing about the lab, getting everything prepared before Dr. Stone arrives, basically rushing himself and the poor lithos that he managed to convince into helping him set all of this up.

It isn’t much compared to the disaster of the gender reveal he and the Doctor got dragged to; some bows attached here and there, a perfect heated cup of coffee sitting on a cup warmer right on the console, and of course, the most important thing: a lavender present box sitting next to it, wrapped prettily in a white glimmering bow.

The Agent has yet to determine whether or not Dr. Stone would appreciate the setup or would have the lithos tear up each and every decoration he spent minutes on making sure it looked good. Well, there is only one thing left to do and that is to wait for the Doctor’s arrival.

Agent Robotnik decides to busy himself with the next upgrades for the lithos, taking his notebook to the other lab to jot down his ideas while examining the litho’s original blueprint.

“Iolite, can you come over here for a bit?” Agent Robotnik called out to one of the lithos, grabbing the necessary tools to begin working on the upgrades.

Iolite floats over to the Agent, nudging her sleek shiny hull against his bicep as her LED flickers to imitate the action of closing one’s eyes or blinking. Agent Robotnik smiles down at the drone, giving her plenty of affection before deactivating her a moment. He hauls her up on the workbench and begins the activity that will keep him occupied until the Doctor arrives.

~

Agent Robotnik is watching Iolite fly around, emitting a series of high-pitched beeps as if to indicate her excitement on receiving the upgrades. The Agent huffs in in contentment, but just as he is about to kick up his leg and continue watching Iolite swirl around in the air, the sudden hiss of the pneumatic door made its way into the lab.

Agent Robotnik scrambles to get up, nearly tripping over himself three times on his way. He stands at attention near his workstation, Iolite quickly finding her way on the charging ports with all her siblings, powering down once she’s snug.

“Morning, Doctor!” Agent Robotnik greeted Dr. Stone cheerfully, smiling with all of his teeth as he goes to bring the still warm porcelain cup of coffee over to the menacing man by the door.

He always knows that the Doctor is watching, following his every move like a predator stalking prey, but he knows him better than most people and the whole deal is just him being curious.

“When did we have porcelain cups?” Dr. Stone asked, more like stated, flatly as he stares at the cup in his agent’s hand.

“I bought this yesterday night!” Agent Robotnik responded, handing him the cup with both hands and only letting go once he’s sure Dr. Stone won’t just suddenly drop it.

While Dr. Stone sips on his morning coffee, which seems to taste better than some days, Agent Robotnik begins his very detailed explanation on why the lab is covered in such frivolous things that were mostly meant for Valentine’s Day and dating/marriage anniversary, why there is a present box on his console and whatnot.

“…And since you gave me this yesterday,” Agent Robotnik pulls out the little Dr. Stone doll from his pocket, holding it by its armpits like a little child, “I thought it would be appropriate for me to reciprocate your actions and get you something as well! Albeit a bit late.”

Dr. Stone has stopped listening half way through that explanation, Agent Robotnik noticed, his eyes way more focused on the box that he mentioned. Dr. Stone approaches the console, staring at the lavender box with curiosity, but one could have easily mistaken it for ill intent, like picking up the box and destroying it, maybe.

Agent Robotnik leans over to the side a bit to watch Dr. Stone unwrap the box. He is surprisingly gentle, pulling the box slowly until it unravels and falls onto the console then taking his time to find the tapes and taking them off, sticking them instead on a spare paper nearby.

He opens the flaps of the box and looks inside, and due to standing behind the Doctor, Agent Robotnik does not know whether or not he is pleased with the gift he got him. The Agent gets closer, standing by his side as he peers into the box himself, feigning interest in the content inside the box.

“Gloves.” Dr. Stone said, side-eyeing the agent beside him with an unimpressed and almost bored expression. However, Agent Robotnik doesn’t seem to notice and only nods excitedly at the statement.

“Not just any ordinary gloves, boss! It’s your very own control gloves, adjusted perfectly for whenever you’re going out on your bike. I made sure it effortlessly compliments your riding gear!” Agent Robotnik proudly said, a wide smile on his face while Dr. Stone gingerly picks up the gloves, turning them over in his hands and running his thumbs along the fabric.

While the design doesn’t exactly look too different from the ones he’s wearing, besides it being wrist-high, the material used is definitely more fitted for biking. The placement of the buttons has been moved to the wrist, making it easier for him to grip onto the hand grips without accidently pressing a command button and making the lithos freak out.

“What do you think, Doc?” Agent Robotnik asked, snapping Dr. Stone out of his analytical mind, whipping his head over to look at the Agent’s shining eyes.

Agent Robotnik stares into the two black voids his boss has for eyes, trying to find a trace of anything in them, anything to tell him that he likes it, doesn’t like it, anything at all. Of course, in spite of all the time he spent by Dr. Stone’s side, it is hard to say something for certain when it comes to his feelings.

Agent Robotnik sighs, his wide smile dropping to just a grin as he straightens up, smoothing out the labels of his suit out. “Well, I better get to work.” He walks back to his workstation, humming a nondescript tune as he settles down in his chair.

He places the Doctor-lookalike doll on the desk, letting it rest against the stack of files he has yet to review. It is a good position for it to survey his every activity, movements and face expression. While that is a disturbing thing to think about to other people, Agent Robotnik finds some comfort and encouragement in that thought.

The day goes on, flooded with the usual complaints from other agents and higher-ups, meetings with forgettable faces and hours of working on their newest assignments. At one point, Agent Robotnik has to take down the decorations he set up earlier in the day because they were starting to piss him off, irritate the Doctor and confuse the lithos.

It’s snowing outside because why wouldn’t it? It is December, after all, and Christmas is only in a few days. With that knowledge, Stone knows that any kind of holidays is a big inconvenience to Robotnik’s work, because then she would be dragged to all kinds of parties and events “filled with mouth-breathers and ignoramuses.”

Taking off her scarf and laying it over the back of her chair, Stone moves to organize the stack of paperwork on the side of her desk. The Doctor is sitting at the console, her body tense as she grumbles on and on how she would probably be forced to attend an office party this year.

Despite it being such a hassle for many agents since that would mean them staying in town for a while more, possibly missing out on the traditions in their own families, but the party seems to be mandatory every single year. Stone can’t escape it despite her many desperate attempts all because she wants to spend the holiday by herself

Stone doesn’t try to console Robotnik, thinking that it was best to leave her to her own devices lest she gets caught in the crossfire of whatever fit the Doctor might throw, and continues with her work instead. The paperwork before the holidays is always bothersome, the higher-ups trying to stack as many as possible just so they can have an easy break.

Stone’s fingers fly across the keyboard, trying to finish and read as many emails as she possibly can before the meeting they have twenty minutes from now. The Doctor is still grumbling on about the people around her and their weaponized incompetence, all to piss her off so they can eventually start making insensitive jokes about her. Well, it isn’t always like that, sometimes the agents around her are just dumb, but it kind of does feel like that from time to time, like someone is intentionally being dense so that Stone has to take over to not anger Robotnik further.

“Stone, let’s get this over with.” Robotnik addressed her agent, crooking a finger in her direction to indicate that she needed her. Stone complied with the order quickly, grabbing her files and notes in case Commander Walters asks for it, and follows the Doctor to the elevator.

It was one of the longest elevator wait Stone had ever had the displeasure of experiencing. The elevator didn’t come down to their level for some time, going back and forth between the upper floors, Stone imagining agents shuffling in and out of the small metal box, files flooding their arms and eyes drooping with exhaustion.

Well, at least she doesn’t have to suffer alone, but it seems Robotnik doesn’t care whether or not she is alone. The rhythmic tapping of her well-polished heel against the white tiled floor provided some kind of noise for Stone to focus on, but the expression that the Doctor wears is not a pleasant one.

Stone just hopes that they can get through this meeting without much trouble or arguments, she is already yearning for her bed.

Finally, the elevator’s chime rings out as the door slides open. There isn’t anyone in there, luckily, and they both step in hastily. The still and cold air inside is suffocating, though Stone tries not to express that discomfort outwardly. The papers sat uncomfortably in the crook of her arm as the elevator ascends.

They eventually reach their designated floor, stepping out of the confining metal box to head to the next box, this time made of concrete, to begin their meeting. Robotnik is never pleased to know that she has to attend these meaningless meetings at least five times a week, maybe several more if their schedule is cramped.

Stone stalls outside as she watches the Doctor busts through the door, her long coattail flowing dramatically behind her as she strides in. The people in the meeting are positively annoyed, especially Commander Walters, he is holding his head in his hands when Stone enters the room.

“Get it over with quickly, Walters, I don’t want to have to die such a lame death here.” The Doctor said as she drags a chair towards herself, sitting down with a posture that speaks volumes of her terrifying authority.

Stone stands behind her with a small, barely visible smile. It is always a treat for the Agent to watch her Doctor flaunt her power, the threat and danger that lurk behind those words strangely alluring, like a siren’s call to an aimless fisherman.

The meeting pass boringly, as expected; Robotnik keeps rocking back and forth in her chair, occasionally bumping into the leg of her agent, who is diligently taking notes of every important detail despite the drilling voices. Robotnik rolls her eyes at every mention of her name, opting to just drone out everyone’s voices so that she doesn’t get migraines.

The meeting stretches on for longer than either of them had anticipated, making Stone slightly worried about Robotnik’s waning tolerance; the Agent doesn’t want this meeting to turn into another heated argument between the Doctor and Commander about what is acceptable behavior in the workplace and what isn’t, and she doesn’t want to be the person that has to break that up again.

Stone sighs whenever the Doctor scoffs or roll her eyes, fidgeting with a pen the entire time and oftentimes forgetting that she can’t be seen biting onto something like a problematic child. Stone can’t say she wants to be here more than Robotnik does, but she’d be damned if she’s found slacking in a meeting.

Though, maybe Stone has been too obedient lately, maybe messing around a bit wouldn’t be too bad.

Stone taps Robotnik’s lightly, making sure she realizes that her agent is still behind her. Robotnik turns her head slightly, regarding Stone with a small, barely noticeable lift of her chin. The Agent leans down and whispers into her ear, the sound or action barely registered by the others in the room.

She backs away a bit after she deems that the Doctor understood what she is suggesting, waiting for her response to such an unusual and mischievous idea. Seconds pass as Stone focuses solely on the emotions that is going through Robotnik’s face, holding her breath for what felt like hours.

A thrill passes through Stone as she watches a sharp smile spread on the Doctor’s painted lips, a red deep like the color of blood and rage. Robotnik uncrosses her legs, sits a little straighter; The Agent smiles as steps a little closer, and with a single tap of a gloved finger on her wrist, Stone picks Robotnik up and dashes out of the room.

Everyone was taken by surprise, some yelping and screeching indignantly while Commander Walters speeds to the doorway, shouting at the Doctor and the Agent that just escaped. Robotnik’s smile and laughter are contagious, Stone soon finding herself giggling with short breaths as she continues down the long hallway. The Doctor shifts in her agent’s grip just so she can stare back at the angry Commander while flipping him off with both hands.

Before long the two found themselves outside, the snow falling softly onto the ground and them. Stone’s labored breath comes in short puffs of white fog, her eyes darting around her pale white surroundings. It was peaceful, a lot more than sitting in a suffocating meeting room.

Stone trips over herself with a yelp, barely holding her balance as she falls onto one knee, her hand gripping the snow below her. Whatever that was thrown at her is nowhere to be found.

“Left yourself open, Agent Stone!” she heard Robotnik’s voice ring out, looking behind her with a slightly dazed and surprised expression.

In the Doctor’s gloved hand is a snowball, her arm raised with a wild smile plastered smile on her face. Stone is still trying to catch up to the current situation; the Doctor wants to have a snowball fight? Stone had always thought that she would despise such a childish activity.

“Are you proposing a snowball fight, ma’am?” Stone asked, placing her hand onto her knee to get balance and stand up, staring as Robotnik’s expression falls to one of disappointment.

“Try to catch up, Stone; I just got out of a boring meeting and now have nothing to do. If I go back in there and sit in the comfort of my sanctuary, no doubt Walters will come and find me.” The Doctor said flatly, the snowball still sitting securely in her hand.

Stone nods and smile, a bright smile, as she crouches down to gather some snow, shaping them into a ball as best as she could. Another snowball is launched at Stone, making her recoil a bit before standing up and swiftly throwing hers. It, unfortunately, missed the Doctor, giving her another chance to throw another at her agent.

They spend the entire morning laughing and assaulting each other with snowballs after snowballs. At one point, Robotnik had the mininiks pick up some of their own and rained snowy hell on Stone, who was trying her best to shield herself with her jacket, but was laughing nonetheless.

At last they lay down in the snow, side by side as clouds of cold smoke float up into the air from their breathing. Stone feels exhaustion in her bones, but it was a pleasant tingling feeling. She absentmindedly wonders why the others haven’t come out to find them, but the thought dissipates as quickly as it came as Robotnik’s hand reaches out to hold hers.