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Sonic’s late this time—which isn’t anything new, but Tails has never quite managed to tamp down the huff of indignation that rises whenever it happens.
It’s usually equal chances of Sonic either showing up on the dot, the moment the minute turns over, or … well, if not that, then anywhere from minutes to hours afterwards, but never just a few seconds later, which means Tails has some unknown amount of time to kill before his big brother gets to his workshop. He’d been hoping today would be one of those immaculately on time ones; now, Tails just gets to sink into his all-too-ratty couch by himself (and definitely not pouting, thank you).
Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem, given the fact that on a normal day, he’d probably still be tinkering with something to the point that he doesn’t realize Sonic’s missed their meeting time; this time, though, their weekend buddy hangout was meant to start with him telling Sonic all about his latest project, especially the parts that stumped him. Not like the hedgehog knows enough about this kind of technology to help, feedback-wise … but Sonic’s always offered to hear him out whenever he’s frustrated (or excited, or worried, or—anything, really, which is almost embarrassing but mostly reassuring), and it’s kind of become a thing for them, the way he’d half-ramble about whatever scientific grievances he’d come across.
Come to think of it, Tails still isn’t really sure why they do that—or, actually, that’s not entirely true, because more often than not he ends up cutting himself off partway through with an oh! and a wait, I think I got it, one sec sorry Sonic be right back oh man how did I not think of that before, so there’s definitely something to telling his older bro about all this, even if it’s just nonsensical techno-jargon to him. But even before that—without that—Sonic always indulges in listening to him blabber about anything. It’s nice, really, having someone in his corner like that all the time, but he has to admit it’s also kinda funny, how the hedgehog always tries to pay attention even if he doesn’t quite get it, listening intently despite it all, the way …
Oh, Tails thinks bemusedly. It’d all started before the two of them even actually met.
He’d been so young then (... well, younger)—the thought of how he'd had the audacity to just up and tinker with some random stranger’s random plane is almost enough to make him cringe. Of course, he wouldn’t change a thing, because if he hadn’t done that then he has no idea if he’d end up where he is now, but …
(Well, he’s not cringing too hard, because he’d definitely still do it now too, with a good enough reason. But still.)
Even back then, when Sonic showed up and caught Tails mid-wrench turn, and Tails had started babbling nonsensically, Sonic just listened. He let Tails go on and on, listening with a patience that’d never be associated with him (then or now). He listened to Tails defending himself against accusations never made, apologizing for transgressions never had, all while keeping his eyes steadily on the Tornado and tapping his foot to a rhythm only he knew. Despite being the picture of disinterest, despite how Tails thought he wasn’t paying attention at all, Sonic listened to every panicked word until the Tails’ voice gradually petered out, ending with the fox staring slightly upwards with wide eyes and warbly lip hidden behind the tail he’d hugged to his chest.
He remembers the moment clearly: the apprehension as he waited to be shunned by someone else who didn’t want to associate with a two tailed freak, ears drooping and eyes burning slightly as he made to leave, before Sonic finally turned to look at him. The image of his to-be big brother's wide grin and enthusiastic thumbs up, in lieu of the reproach he’d been expecting, is probably etched into his mind forever. He remembers it leaving him so perplexed that his anxiety started unraveling on the spot, replaced by a little blossom of hope in his chest.
“Y … you’re not mad?” he’d asked, still unable to stop wringing one tail, and … Well, in hindsight, he understands what Sonic meant with that rub of his nose, but back then it’d just left Tails even more confused.
(Sonic didn’t really leave room for confusion after that, though, when he’d eventually get Tails to understand he wasn't forcing him to leave after they sorted things out in their own weird game of twenty questions, so. It all worked just the same.)
Tails can only shake his head at the memory, now—not out of any shame or regret, but in a sort of jeez way, thinking about how that was (and maybe still is) the best day of his life, and it’d all happened just because he’d coincidentally been in the area the same time Sonic parked and left the Tornado. Sometimes, he still can’t believe that Sonic even let him come along; Tails might’ve been young, and Sonic might’ve seemed older because of how much cooler he’d been, to a tiny fox kit’s eyes, but even at four he could tell Sonic wasn’t an adult. It’s a lot, to ask a kid to watch another kid like that.
He guesses neither of them fully realized it, at the time. Kind of another side effect of just being two kids, Tails supposes.
Still—maybe that’s a little funny too, in a … way. Such a free-spirited guy like Sonic deciding to shoulder the responsibility of someone else … it’d be a bit of a contradiction, if it weren’t for the fact he likely just decided on a whim. Actually, now that Tails really puts it that way, Sonic himself seems like a weird embodiment of contradiction, which is somehow contradictory of itself considering how steadfast and sure he is of his own convictions.
After all, Sonic is speed—but Sonic is also patient, sometimes, when he thinks it’s worth it (like when listening to Tails, and taking care of chao, and making sure Cream is safe and has a good time and gets home properly). And sure, he’s hotheaded, and an adrenaline junkie, and kind of rude (just as a general statement, even when he might not mean to be); but he’s also difficult to really, truly anger, and he’s one to love stopping to smell roses and take in the sights, and he really doesn’t have any bad intentions with what he says (unless you’re a bad guy, but—even then, Tails doesn’t think there’s that much bite to his words. Not unless they’ve crossed a line). And yeah, maybe he doesn’t care what anyone else thinks, and he does whatever he likes … but he’s a nice person at his core, which means doing as he likes will usually involve listening to others and putting their needs first a lot more often than expected.
(Like when Tails would get scared of storms, and Sonic would let him bury his face into the hedgehog’s chest until it was over, or he fell asleep—Sonic was and still isn’t the real-close-touchy type, but he always made exceptions for when Tails needed it. And maybe the fact that Sonic is so cozy to cuddle is another point to add to this weird list, anyways; for such a spiky guy, he’s awful soft. Maybe in more ways than one.)
Even the way he spoke—speaks?—could be called a contradiction. The fact that he hadn’t spoken at all, when they met; never fully learned “properly” so to say, and couldn’t really form the right sounds even if he could. Eventually, he ended up practicing how to talk and learning most of language with Tails … only to end up a total chatterbox, later, as the years went on and the words came out more easily. Tails knows that Sonic appreciates his peaceful moments just as much as he enjoys his next high stakes adventure, so Tails doesn’t really think he’s doing it to fill the silence. Maybe he’s just excited to finally get out all the sarcastic and (self-thought to be) hilarious quips that he’s had in mind since he started.
But examples of the conflicting … whatever his brain is trying to put together now—aspects of Sonic—only continue with how deliberately Sonic seems to enunciate every word now. He used to contract words that shouldn’t have contractions, and had the oddest little rhythm to his speech; even when the two of them started learning sign language, to make things easier, Sonic’s hands would blur together to smear words. Now he speaks so clearly, deliberately, with only just a hint of that unique cadence remaining. Oh, sure, there are times he sounds a bit more like he used to, more casual, especially during fights or really rowdy banter with someone like Knuckles … but.
It’s—hm. The more he goes down this rabbit hole (hedgehog … burrow?), the more Tails can’t help but scrunch his brows at it all. As a fox of science, of data and stats and consistencies, it almost bothers him; logically, these shouldn’t really all be present in one person, should it?
And yet.
Tails remembers asking, once, a while after he’d started tagging along with Sonic on his adventures: why? Why him, to deal with Eggman and do all these dangerous things? Sonic’s not responsible for any of that, either—Sonic’s just a kid . What reason does he have to carry the weight of being a hero?
(Not that he’d said or even thought all that, of course, Tails was probably only five or six at the time. It’d been little more than a passing curiosity when he said it.)
’Cause it’s fun, Sonic had stated, cadence still off and voice still a little raspy and nasally from disuse, every other word still not there while his hands smoothly signed to fill the gaps. Seein’ Egghead’s face get all red like that. And ‘sides, I don’t like seein’ his dumb machines e’rywhere, especially with all the flickies an’ animals in ‘em. S’no good.
Oh, a younger Tails had peeped, nodding his head as if it made complete sense. Which it did, mostly. Except—So you just feel like it?
Yeah. I don’t do anything I don’t wanna do.
Sonic, the hero of the world multiple times over, who does it for none of the glory or recognition (even if he tries to act cocky and arrogant otherwise) or even because it’s objectively right, and instead simply because he sees something he disagrees with, and because he wants the world to keep going. To keep turning, to have a new sun rise every day and let him see it, and the sights, and let him live the life he loves so much.
It’s a good thing, Tails finds himself thinking, that Sonic does love the world (or at least, what it has to offer). There wouldn’t really be much left, now, if he didn’t.
Still … it’s a little strange, isn’t it? All these things about one hedgehog. It’s ironic, how Sonic tends to insist that he’s a simple guy—but what’s worse is that Tails doesn’t even think that’s wrong either. He’s grown up with the blue blur, and he’d like to think he knows Sonic pretty well. Even after all this, he does think it’s simpler than it should be (and maybe it’s just some of his brotherly bias, which totally nullifies any of the observation he’s done, technically):
Sonic is so many things, but in the end, it all boils down to him being so undeniably Sonic, one hundred percent, to his core. Maybe … sure, maybe it’s a bit ironic. Maybe that’s the word he’s looking for, instead of contradiction or anything. And maybe that’s just part of who Sonic is, too. It all revolves around him doing what he wants, after all, right? So then—
“—Tails? Y’there?”
“Bwah?!”
(If anyone asks, no, he did not make a weird noise, and no, his tails did not suddenly puff up with how startled he was. The cushions fell over by themselves, he has no idea what could’ve knocked them over.)
Admittedly, though, there is a brief moment of Tails not being sure where he is, and he has to blink a few times before turning his focus towards his bemused looking older brother. When’d he get here? Clearly, Tails got pretty into it to not have heard either the probable sonic boom or the door opening …
“H-hey, Sonic. Sorry ‘bout that—I guess I zoned out,” he says, before realizing that’s a pretty redundant statement. He can tell Sonic notices this too, because of course he does, by the look he’s giving Tails complete with a wry grin pulling on his lips, and Tails can only smile back sheepishly at the expression.
“Annnd when was it you last went to bed again?” his older brother teases, and Tails—well, he isn’t so flustered that his face feels warm, thankfully, but he does know the furs of his tails haven’t exactly calmed down yet, so it’s not really a win for him anyways. He looks away from Sonic’s knowing expression, mumbling something about not being tired, but ends up with a hand roughly messing up the fur on his head for his troubles.
“Sonic,” he does not whine, but it’s more of a formality at this point than a real protest (though it is a bit of a bother getting some of the particularly stuck-up parts to smooth down again sometimes).
“Hey, I’m just sayin’,” Sonic shrugs, flopping beside where Tails is sitting on the couch and throwing an arm around the fox’s shoulder, “you didn’t even hear me the first couple times, or when I let myself in. Pretty out of it, little guy.”
“You’re the one who was late.” If Sonic claims that he’s pouting, that’s definitely a lie. Plus, Tails knows they both know the security system would’ve alerted him to anyone who wasn’t either of the two regardless. Sonic shrugs again, then laughs after Tails elbows him in the side. “What for, anyways? Don’t tell me, this time, you ended up in a book abooout …”
“I’m telling you, that really happened!”
“Uh huh.”
“And this wasn’t nearly as fun as that was,” Sonic adds, his free hand moving as animatedly as ever. “Pretty lame, actually. Spagonia, hot dogs—honestly, wasn’t all that worth it. Besides, you told me you wanted to talk about some stuff you’ve been working on, right? That’d definitely be way more interesting than ...”
As Tails watches the vague gesture Sonic makes, it almost feels like he’s got his thoughts back in order. Right. That was how he started that whole retrospective, huh? Honestly, after all that, Tails isn’t quite in the mood to be talking about his inventions, but …
“I mean … I did, but it’s really not that big of a deal … and this is supposed to be our chill weekend, right? We could get a headstart on the new Tomatopotamus game instead of having me bore you! I’ll—”
“Bore me?” There’s a frown on Sonic’s face, the knit between his brows a bit more … uh. Well, it’s a more genuine expression than Tails was expecting, as if his words actually upset Sonic. He supposes it did, considering he hardly ever sees this sort of thing on the blue blur’s face (and the back of his mind can’t help but add that to the box, too, how Sonic’s actually pretty good at hiding his emotions even though he likes to make himself seem so open). Tails didn’t really mean anything about it, when he was saying that, just bantering like they usually do, but—“You never bore me, bud. I could listen to you all day.”
Oh.
And then, a split second before he could really appreciate how actually really sweet that was, Sonic shifts back into that playful older brother thing, looking to the side in mock-consideration. “Okay, maybe not all day … more of a nine to five thing, really, and I’d want holidays o—”
“Sonic.” Despite rolling his eyes, Tails can’t help the embarrassed smile that peeks out. Sonic pretends to think about it for a couple more seconds before he smiles back and, seemingly unable to help himself, ruffles Tails’ head again (and, well, he’ll allow it, this time).
“Seriously, though,” and Tails braces himself a little because Sonic’s got that semi-parental voice of his own now. “You gotta get enough rest between all the work you do. Anything—are you sure you didn’t have anything else you wanna tell me about before going all mad scientist today?”
(Frankly, if he did, Tails feels like he might actually weird out his weird older sibling.)
“You can’t tell me to rest when we haven’t even started our video game and movie marathon!” Tails says instead, and he’s firmly decided to mentally shelve the topic as he gives Sonic a playful shove on the shoulder with one hand while the other once again attempts to pat down the worst of his new hairstyle. After all, what’s noticing … all that going to change? Sonic’s always been weird, and he’s always been Sonic, and he’ll always be Tails’ big brother.
Tails considers, momentarily, just moving on with the evening now that an easy out’s been given—but instead, before Sonic could say another bad joke or whatnot, Tails’ smile shifts to something a little softer that’s only a little still tinged with embarrassment (and if he leans a bit more into this weird half-hug Sonic’s got him in, no one can point it out besides his not-really-emotionally-open-yet-surprisingly-good-with-emotions-as-long-as-it’s-not-his-own brother).
“Thanks, Sonic.”
Sonic, in return, blinks once, twice, before settling on a grin and a squeeze to Tails’ shoulder, which the fox understands to be his way of saying no problem, don’t mention it, love you all at once. It’s a nice moment that’s way too saccharine, honestly, and there’s no complaints from either side when Sonic raises both hands behind his head and kicks his feet on the table. “So, that new thingy of yours?”
“Well, if you must know, it’s actually …”
(He ends up interrupting himself at a record time, today, and there’s something equal parts amused and proud to the look in Sonic’s eyes when Tails flies off to make some notes and adjustments before they truly kick off the inevitable Tommy Thunder marathon.)
chaoxfix Tue 26 Jul 2022 04:14AM UTC
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