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Chapter Text

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S T O N E

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Present (Dawn) - March 26th

It was still dark.

Soft pink-agate clouds had puffed delicately against the sapphire night sky; amber glows and opalite streaks and ametrine shimmers, warmed the horizon like a fairy tale.

Glittering spiders webs laced with mini dew diamonds, lit up the pretty rose bushes and tulips like luxurious sparkling lavaliere. Each petal curled delicately, curtsying like princesses in silk ball gowns to the lapis lazuli heavens and chalcedony moon. The cherry blossom trees, sprinkling their soft natural wedding confetti in the dawn breeze, perfected the magical scene, their perfumes flourishing in the air.

The gentle rushing sound of sea-front waterfalls floated from across the shattuckite-shaded fields, as secretive early morning bird call drifted through the vegetation. The window trickle-vent had been left open all evening for some fresh air, and the early morning ambience sounded like a fantasy. From deep within the forest, the hum of the crickets symphony, the soft hooting of owls and the first baying of a fox cub all echoed delightfully in the night wind.

Beside their cabin, thick pine trees stood tall and silent, rammed shoulder to shoulder like soldiers. Black shadows concealing a dangerous landscape, resembling spirit warriors guarding their chief's final resting place on sacred land. Below the onyx cliffs, a sleek black car purred as it drove home on its long distance journey.

.-.-.

The sweet smells of dawn - a bonfire-like scent, wet grass, hens, oats, and sea air - helped settle the plump little shape, snuggled under the bedclothes. The warm soothing scent of expensive aftershave, and the low buzz of an electric toothbrush from the bathroom, made Stone curl his toes contentedly.

He had sprawled out on the other side of the bed, closest to the familiar scents; he clung dearly to his boyfriend's pillow, burying his face happily into it. The king-size duvet wrapped around his shoulders felt like a giant warm cave of love, and the hot water bottle's mark left on the sheets heated him through thoroughly. His damp hair, from the rain - and the shower he had been forced to retake, to warm up - flopped across his forehead adorably.

He was still a little chilled through from the night's adventures, icy cold on the inside and warm without - so he squirmed happily in the fresh toasty-hot fleece pyjama bottoms that his daddy had placed for him on the radiator. He should have felt guilty for worrying him so, and perhaps a little on high alert and uneasy as to how unusually sweet he was being. But he had never felt so loved and cared for as he did now, and every last cell in his body right down to the tiniest atom, quivered and tingled with addiction.

The doctor had roughly coddled him upon his return. First demanding to know where he had been - dare he even think the word 'fussing' as to his whereabouts, like an overprotective parent who had not yet scratched that paternal itch. His grumpy frustrated scowl and hurt confused longing expression had clearly said 'where have you been?', 'you left me alone', 'what's wrong?', 'why did you leave?', 'I was worried about you', 'I love you' and 'we need to talk.'

He had caught him sneaking back in to their cabin - after he had apparently stayed up all night, worrying about him. More than once. This time the front door had somehow been left unlocked, the car had gone and when Stone had been nowhere to be seen - again - he had worried.

Because one time he hadn't returned at all.

Then his soft sad dark loving eyes had returned, pitying him for how wet and cold he, Stone, had been... before thoughtlessly pulling him into a massive bear hug, a protective embrace, and sending him upstairs for a hot shower, and change of clean, dry clothes. He had sat by his side for a while after, huffing and pretending to be disgruntled still to cover up how lonely and unsettled he had felt all night. Something which Stone had found incredibly endearing.

He had scolded him for his lack of sleep, grumbling about having better things to do than to nanny him all night - yet off his own back he had made him hot drinks and food, and roughly grabbed his chin, checking him over for injuries. Daring some to appear, as though he would knock them out for doing so. Something which Stone had also found incredibly endearing.

The doctor had cupped his cheeks after, stroking his sweet little face absently, and whispering into his ears how much he loved him. How important he was to him. How much he needed him around, how he couldn't run risks like that after nightfall, should something happen. That had most definitely been unlike his usual character, as tender and intimate as he could be in their own privacy, and Stone should have taken note. But he had been so busy shining from the love and flattery, that it had all gone over his head.

This most definitely had not been the way he had intended to go about getting a little attention, but by god he was going to grab it with both hands.

Chapter Text

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R O B O T N I K

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Evening Earlier - March 25th

It was long after they had both settled down for the night.

Long after they both had pressed up close together and 'snuggled' - something which the doctor most definitely didn't do, he didn't 'snuggle.'

Nor did he cuddle, cling or nestle into his Stone, lay his head upon his, or sweetly stroke his soft belly with his knuckles. He certainly didn't murmur endearing lovey-dovey words or pet names into his ears, like shnookums, baby, sweetheart, darling or angel, petal or sugar. Or teasing dickish names like barnacle brain, dipshit or pansy - making Stone grin shyly, nibbling his lip and gazing into his eyes adoringly. Then returning the banter with equal (but much cuter) insults, and light affectionate prods and tickles, just to see what he could get away with.

The doctor didn't frown and sit up then, ending their game, making Stone's insides squirm nervously - had he gone too far? Had he pushed against uncomfortable boundaries?

He didn't arch one eyebrow at him disbelievingly, requesting silently to know if he was trying him. Before leaning closer, as if to hiss scolding words of rejection - Stone's eyes widened innocently, tensing uneasily, readying himself to block out hurtful words upon a sharp mood switch.

He didn't lean closer, his breath and moustache lightly tickling his neck, as his hands wandered down to his sides... holding him firmly in place...

Before suddenly retaliating, blowing raspberries into the crook of his neck, just to make his baby giggle childishly and jump a mile high. He didn't further nuzzle his moustache hard into him, pretending to eat him all up, wiggling devious fingers mere inches from his ribs and torturing him with mocking words, just to hear his frantic laughter escalating in panic.

He also didn't get carried away with all the excitement, and his mischievous boyish charm, by scribbling fingers viciously up and down his armpits for a good solid five minutes to make him freak out with laughter. Or, to finally assert his dominance, by straddling him and attacking his belly and ribcage mercilessly with speed, to make the poor boy shriek and laugh hysterically, grab wildly at his hands, giggle out swear words, push at him defensively and nearly snap his spine trying to escape.

Of course he didn't force him to squeal out mercy, or beg and plead for him to stoppit and let him up, accusing him of being a bully. It wasn't his fault if he was too ticklish for his own good - and besides, he'd started it!

Or to spill his guts, hiccuping and snorting adorably through his breathless wheezes, apologising for trying him until the sun nearly came up, and until tears streamed from his eyes and he was red faced. All he had had to do was breathe, and.. deal with it.

Rob definitely didn't lay by his side then, claws digging threateningly back into his armpits daring him to retaliate one more time, as they both laughed breathlessly and gazed adoringly into each other's eyes. He definitely didn't lay there for a time, wondering how so much happiness had crept into his life without him realising, or where his Stone had come from. Or wondering how this sweet boy had made him become so soft in his old age... or why he always thought about children when he looked at him.

He most definitely didn't kiss him...

...or feel a hard on pressing into his thigh.

Or feel pleasurable waves rippling through his insides...

Or wish that he could.. that, god.. that he could..

He loved, no craved, Stone's beautiful, helpless laughter... He always was so helpless when he laughed. He had such an amazing laugh, it was so bright, so sunny, so soft and gentle like caramel, even his cute little girly snorts and hiccups were adorable. He was a big girl at heart, and no matter what he did to him, he always seemed to love him all the more.

Even his pretty smile was like Summer.

God he longed to tickle him so badly sometimes, hold him down and just let loose. On his belly and sides and ribs, no less. Armpits if he got him going good... feet maybe? Inner thighs? He could only imagine, at this point. Just to hear him laugh like crazy, squealing and begging and pleading for him to let him up. Squeezing his eyes shut hard with that over-excited nervous little grin of his, dreading the upcoming retribution for reacting. Dreading the upcoming retribution for not reacting.

God that kid was so pure sometimes he simply couldn't stand it, it literally took every fibre in his body not to over-exert his sexual prowess and tease him pitilessly to distraction. Not to spank him playfully, or tie him to the goddamn bed, handcuff him and blindfold him, and send his senses going through the roof with feathers, brushes and whatever else he could get his hands on. He just had a feeling - and he was usually always right - that he even knew where his weak spots might be.

-

For the rest of the evening, he had had to content himself with some not-cuddling, not-reading-quietly-as-a-couple-in-bed, definitely-not-dickish flirting, not even sure if the kid wanted to take it any further. Which sounded silly, because they were sharing a bed together and fooled about a little sometimes. They had both turned each other on before, not always on purpose, and had shared some pretty intimate moments to relax before now.

But he was so scared of invading his personal space, making a fool of himself, risking rejection, mis-reading the situation, over-stepping his boundaries or messing things up, losing him... He was everything to him - not that he would always let him know that. He craved him. Dare he even say, cared about him? ...He loved him. More than anything. It was the one reason why he had brought them here in the first place, so that he could help him get well again... and - eventually - propose to him.

He shouldn't be doing this. He shouldn't be feeling things like this. Not at his age, not over a younger man, not over any man. But god Stone was the only thing that had kept him going for so long. Every time he saw the kid, he had to practically plow himself hard into his work to stop the fire-hot fantasies from burning him up. Destroying him... drifting away, and yet every time he was this close to him, he felt his insides fluttering like rabid butterflies, and the most tantalising romantic tingling in his heart.

-

He had taken to 'not-snuggling' a bit closer to Stone each night, 'not-wrapping his arms around his waist' and 'not-laying his face against his chest.' He had hoped that it would settle him some more when they slept side by side. He had felt him tossing and turning, as though deep in some nightmare, mumbling incoherently in his dreams and jerking and twitching occasionally. Stone had kicked him once, and when the doctor's eyelids had fluttered open and he had propped himself up to scold him, realised that his face was damp. He had whispered his name, but the boy hadn't responded, as though drowning in his own wonderland from which he couldn't escape.

That struck him as unusual, and it saddened him. Stone always responded to his voice when he talked to him at night, sometimes to tell him all the things he longed to say to his face, but didn't trust himself to. Whether it was a soft sigh, or curling into his arms, murmuring or waking when he called his name... he had always responded. Stone had been trained to sleep lightly. So the doctor had observed, and when the tossing and turning had seemed to disappear within his own dreams, and he hadn't been woken by his lover anymore, he had naturally assumed that he was getting better.

Then the disappearances had started.

Only he hadn't known about them for a while - and that had scared him.

See the thing was, he was always right. He always knew where his baby was at all times, that he was safe and by his side late at night. He had taken to curling around him when they slept to make sure that he always knew where he was, that he felt loved, wanted. Appreciated. He must have been so tired within himself not to notice properly, with his own lack of sleep from worrying so much. How had that little shit managed to squirm out of his embraces at night without him waking up?

More to the point, where had he been disappearing to? He hadn't even noticed at first, his sleep-addled mind merely assuming that he was safe in his big warm arms. Meaning that he must have woken briefly for the bathroom, or for water, that he would be back soon. So quite often he had dropped off to sleep again...

And then one time he hadn't returned... and his paranoia had kicked in.

Chapter Text

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S T O N E

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Two evenings ago - March 24th

Deep into the night, Stone had felt his agitation rise.

He had quietly slipped out of their cosy double bed - after checking that the doctor was sound asleep. His warm arms had been wrapped round his waist lovingly, holding him close; since the doctor had nodded off though, Robotnik had gradually shifted positions, comfortable that he wasn't alone. He had switched to nibbling his thumb tip self-soothingly, a sight which Stone had always found unbearably cute, and which had made him grin as he kissed the doctor lightly on his ear - his cute little pixie ears - pulling the duvet back up over his shoulders to keep him warm.

Right at that very moment, every instinct and fibre in his body had begged him not to leave him; his gorgeous, ridiculously handsome boyfriend had seemed so peaceful, so cosy, so content to believe that he was still right by his side. Dare he believe, if just for one tiny moment, that he may have even smiled in his sleep? Murmured his name? Curled up like a cat?

But the mental scream for fresh air and a walk to stay his anxiety and sex-driven mind had become unbearable. He didn't trust himself.

For weeks now he had felt very burnt out, overworked and overstressed; though he had been so good at hiding it, he told himself, that nobody had noticed. He had needed an escape, something with an isolated or peaceful atmosphere, and his secret adventures at night had given him just that.

Whenever he hadn't been able to sleep, he had gone for a wander. Sitting out under the stars silently, watching the ocean waves calmly shine, lap and ripple like magic. A secret car-ride, more often a walk, with his favourite love music playing softly in his ears, as he strode or walked energetically. Observing all the night creatures suddenly coming into existence, as though from the twilight zone, would set his skin tingling.

Listening to the bats and owls hooting, badgers grunting and deer stepping quietly. Watching the shooting stars, low flying satellites and occasional flicker of a very far off aeroplane. Pretending to himself that there was another world out there, a perfect one, so private and so romantic, just for them - feeling like anything was possible.

-

On many occasions it had rained and thundered heavily. The drenching of water and mud as he had laid on the grass or the sandy beach - as though just having lost everything precious to him - had revitalised him so much. The wild self-soothing feel of edgy vulnerability leaking out from under his own skin, had surrounded him in a thrilling blanket of restless energy he could bathe in. The loss, the shedding of self, the feeling of rebirth and relaxation...

Getting away, escaping, nobody knowing his name, or where he was... or even knowing that he existed... a beautiful moment of self pity and self love, self exploration. Hiding in the beach caves in the early mornings just chilling, or in the one broken down beach hut that had been abandoned for decades. Still with a bit of furniture in, enough to make a nice mancave out of to drink in, or Wendy house for whatever rare wandering females may break in drunkenly with their mates during high season.

He knew it wasn't good this, getting chilled to the bone, starving himself and staying out until morning, and craving the (slightly) harsh elements to make himself feel something. But it had worked relevantly well, and the few hours sleep he had gotten each time he had finally returned, had been just enough to cover him for the upcoming day. Then he would just sleep heavily the next evening, and hope that nobody would notice. Which they hadn't seemed to so far, least of all the doctor.

Not that they would care if he ran himself into the ground, he was his own person and was easily replaceable. They would just be disappointed with him, dock his wages and put a strike on his record. Suspend him, sack him. Then if he claimed sickness, which he wouldn't because.. well, he would just never do that in such a high-flying career, he would be too embarrassed to take time off work... I mean why would he, he'd rather just hurt himself in various other ways...

.-.-.

Last night it hadn't rained, but had been a clear cool night with minimal clouds and a bit of a chill. He had sat and cried for a little bit, listening to every lovey dovey song his itty bitty heart felt like breaking down to. He couldn't stand it any longer. They were so close, always so close, touching and yet never having touched. Not the way that he wanted them to, and it broke his heart, because what he desperately longed for was love making not just rare playful teasing, banter, silly flirting or near-sex.

He wanted to be driven wild. He wanted to receive love, real love, real affection, from that soft bastard. He wanted to be held all the time, cooed at, nuzzled, tickled and enchanted beyond his wildest imagination. He wanted his fantasies to become real, he wanted the man to swing one leg over and hold him down, and mercilessly touch him the way he couldn't bear. Blowing his brains out, and..

But he was also sickenly shy, and his terror at the thought that the doctor would be disgusted, laugh and reject him, and throw his feelings away like trash had always stopped him from asking. Or expecting. Or even trying... So he had started drinking, then started taking brisk exercise late at night, then he had hurt himself a few times. His anxiety had made him vomit more than once, although that could have been the alcohol, and he had head-butted the rock walls calling himself stupid over and over again until he had felt dizzy and tired.

Then with whatever strength he had had left, had curled up somewhere and stared into the abyss feeling sick, and wondering what the point of anything was anymore.

Chapter Text

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| R O B O T N I K |

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Night - March 26th
23:00 pm

Even in the middle of the night with an ice cold breeze, and heavens opening with torrential rain and drowning the land with more water than there was in the entire ocean, and thunder booming and crashing against the roaring waves, had he gone out again.

The sand from the beach and cliffs billowed up like a desert storm, and for the first time in a while Rob actually felt.. rather unnerved.. by the sheer force of the sudden unexpected weather. More so, not knowing where Stone was and the fact that he wouldn't answer his messages, or couldn't, and hadn't answered to merely tell him that he was alright. It was unlike him not to know where he was and what was going on, and the major lack of his own personalised technology, save for a couple of bits for travelling, deeply unsettled him.

He had avoided taking all work distractions with him for Stone's sake, taken them away for a good long while so that he could recover, pressure free. The sacrifices he had made for him, of course, meant nothing in the grand scheme of things - that's if it wasn't all going to be for nothing. But he had got to get into his head soon, to see what he was thinking, and he couldn't possibly force him without making him back off into a corner, and shy away quickly. So plotting and worrying had eaten away at him instead, and all manner of strange feelings and emotions that he wasn't accustomed to.

Rob respected him enough, and cared for him enough, to allow him to have a few personal secrets and private moments, seeing as no harm had appeared to have come from them so far. Stone had carried so much for him for so long, without ever complaining, being selfish or asking for anything, that he had more than earned it.

But the doctor greatly concerned himself with his welfare, even though he didn't always allow himself to show it, and he constantly thought of their future together and ways in which he could keep them both safe. And whilst he had always respected Stone for being a strong, resilient individual, who's loyalty knew no bounds, and who had kept him company through many near-impossible situations, on a personal level he just didn't react the same way as other people - and that bothered him. He wasn't, as predictable or readable.

It's what made him so adorable, so interesting.

But when that came to protecting him, it could feel impossible - and that.. scared him.

.-.-.

Night - March 26th
23:45 pm

He didn't expect that the weather would be bad enough to have to evacuate short notice, but then with the sheer idiocy of some last-minute unwise military-made decisions (as he thought of them), anything was possible. From deep sea detonations going on further out (that he was not always immediately privy to), to some of the weather experiments that failed on a regular basis (due to inadequate testing, or information), the situation could change quickly.

They were currently inhabiting a cabin on a small island, used mainly for quiet research on specific plants, local weather patterns and 'extinct' animal protection. There wasn't a lot going on out here, not if you were serious about doing any real research, and the observatory about fifteen miles south was perhaps the only interesting thing the island had to offer.

Of course, it was a nice getaway and away from the public eye, and the seawater was unusually crystal clear this time of year, and so holiday usage of the cabin was often considered. Given how useful the location could be at this time of year though, he had had to fight for it - which had been difficult in itself, without using the words 'I now have a common weakness that you could weaponise against me, should you wish to.'

So the value of his prize had now gone up majorly in his eyes, his somewhat shifted dignity and a few difficult spoken words, therefore making the importance of the events going forward almost a mission in themselves. Keeping it from Stone had proved nearly impossible, as he always heard about everything before he did and asked too many questions.

He was not a good one for apologising at the best of times, and least of all admitting to being wrong - or at least agreeing with those who accused him of being wrong. So when Rob had announced absent-mindedly - and purposefully very last minute - that they would be going away for a while in secret, Stone had initially questioned if something had happened. Whilst he had felt quite pleased, and relieved by the temporary break they would be having - he had immediately enquired what the consequences would be for their actions.

"That's not for you to concern yourself with," Rob had answered.

He had let on however that there had been 'some agreed use of the island' providing that nothing more pressing came up in the meantime. He hadn't wanted to admit that he had bowed down to lesser men in order to get what he so desired, and that being Stone's happiness. He still felt a bit sore and paranoid from that bandaid being ripped off too fast and too near sensitive areas of his pride - and his heart. He also, stupidly enough, felt far too proud and stubborn for his own good.

.-.-.

A sudden loud crash of thunder from outside made him jump.
The lights flickered wildly and the cabin blacked out, dropping
everything into pitch black darkness.
Shit. Shit. Shit...

He froze, tense and frowned worriedly, staring out at the now horrific sky war,
flashes so fast and close they resembled epileptic strobe lightening,
the grass outside burnt from the lightening fork, that had nearly hit the cabin.
Small flames rose from the grass, only to be put out by the rain seconds later.

Christ Stone, what were you thinking? he inwardly pleaded. Please be safe. 

.-.-.

Night - March 27th
00:30 am

He had never been afraid of thunder and lightning before, and he had no intention to start now.

But as the weather gradually got worse, he couldn't help but constantly look out the window at the constant blinding flashes of sheet lightning, and the tiny red dots in the sky that he didn't trust. Circling and then changing formation to a triangle, then back to a circle again before disappearing. He felt uneasiness in the pit of his stomach, perhaps because he was taking a break from certain projects that allowed him access to, and information of, other hidden projects, and the lack of knowledge and understanding unsettled him.

It reminded him strongly of a time when he hadn't had such knowledge, as a child when he couldn't protect himself and everything and everyone had felt like a threat. Like they still did... only as an adult, it was his duty to stop that threat, and with such incredible technology at his fingertips, it felt like he could do anything. It felt like he could have a few moments reprieve each day where he was allowed to relax, and actually feel safe... the kind of safety he had never felt as a child.

Funny how this had been the perfect place to take Stone due to the peace and tranquility of the place, until they had actually got here and had irregular weather patterns and strange noises, and lights in the night that bothered him. He didn't like not understanding things, and with his high intellect, he should by all rights understand everything.

This place was supposed to be completely cut off, almost a massive wildlife reserve the lack of people there were here. It had been the perfect place to bring him, for time to recover. Why now, of all times of all places, did they appear to be sitting in the middle of the Bermuda Triangle in what appeared to be a dramatised weather version of World War II? He had made it perfectly clear that he needed the location for some quiet research - what part of the word quiet did the military not understand, if this was in fact their doing??

Was it even their doing?

Or was he just starting to lose his mind from lack of stimulation?

...

The backup generator had finally kicked in.

.-.-.

Night - March 27th
03:00 am

Rob didn't even begin to understand it, and a confused annoyance started to grip at him with its agitating suffocating claw. He couldn't stand it any longer. Why did he keep going out late at night, leaving him? Disappearing out into the bitterly cold weather? The cruel world? He had taken them both out here, had covered up long enough for him whilst he got better, so that he could have the privacy of recovery in his own time. If the little ingrate couldn't even..

He took a deep, slow breath, suddenly recognising his anxiety kicking up again. His hand trembled slightly, a side effect of nerves which rarely affected him as he so often required a steady hand for his intricate work with machinery. He felt himself trembling, alive with a rush of energy though not particularly pleasant, and the angry thunder battle made him feel slight panic rising.

No... This had gone on long enough. He had to have it out with him, where he was going at night, where he was disappearing to. It wasn't Stone's fault if he wasn't well, if he had to get away for a bit. He trusted him to have a wander without bringing any chaos their way. But god forbid he had told him enough times to be careful.

If he caught him coming back in late one more time, in the early hours of the morning... If he so much as smelled the hint of alcohol on him, or cigarette smoke... If he exhausted himself unnecessarily, and slept all day again... If he couldn't even explain where he had been, what he had been doing... If he wouldn't even apologise for staying out in this horrific storm, worrying him half to death.

He was responsible for his safety, for his wellbeing, if he came to harm in any way he would never forgive himself. Could never forgive himself.

He grabbed his right hand with his left, trying to stop it from shaking, his chest tightening and breath quickening.

His jaw clenched, and he tried to take slow deep breaths.

He was angry.

Because he was scared, and that wasn't an emotion he would ever admit to having,
incase someone took his Stone away from him.

Incase they saw his fear as a weakness, took advantage, controlled him, humiliated him...
So he had to be angry.
Because he couldn't allow himself to be scared.

Because if he was scared, everything could end...
and he would be back where he was before,
that frightened child neglected, cut off from the world, abused, imprisoned...

...

He couldn't go back to that time.

He would rather kill himself.

...

He would rather kill himself.

.-.-.

Dawn - March 27th
4:30 am

He took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly as finally a bleep omitted from his smartwatch, and sheer relief washed over him as the date and time (backdated) sat above the message 'I'm fine. Waiting for storm to finish.' It didn't say exactly where he was, but if he was nearby - and he should be, for the car was still here - then the closest place he could think of was the Summer house about a mile west (to their right) - or the beach huts below the cliffs.

There was barely any signal, and it worried him to think of Stone stranded. Neither were perfect places for him to be right now, although both of them meant he would be indoors, so that was something at least. God forbid he couldn't be stupid enough to have gone into the caves down by the water, not when they were flooding left, right and centre. Could he?

He demanded, furiously tapping away at his smartwatch and muttering to himself as the autocorrect played up again, the answer to the simple word 'WHERE?!'

He got a reply almost straight away which meant that, with the current delay due to the signal, he must have still been typing. The three little words that came back, nearly broke his heart.

'I love you.'

He huffed frustratedly, sadly, worriedly.

He must be frightened.
He hated thunderstorms.

He always curled up closer to him at night when there was a storm,
and he held him, protected him, let him bury himself into him.

Sometimes he was even silly enough to hum into his ears gently,
to soothe him, to make him feel safe... entwining their legs together, their feet...

Christ, Stone why do you do this to me? he thought desperately.
And you wonder why I don't take you anywhere with me.

.-.-.

Dawn - March 27th
5:50 am

He was exhausted. Utterly shattered and exhausted, waiting for Stone to message him again, or to come home. He hoped that he had managed to find somewhere safe to stay, that perhaps he had finally fallen asleep and was getting some well needed rest. He had never really been one to coddle anyone before, and his trust in Stone had grown slowly to develop any kind of friendship let alone a relationship. But he was so tired that he could barely think about anything but his own warm bed, and he felt that he couldn't continue to stay awake for much longer, to wait up for him to return home.

This was going to be the last time that he was ever going to do this. Because so help him, he couldn't take it anymore.

...

Dawn - March 27th
6:00 am

Somewhere deep in his dreams, a whirl of colour and strange scenarios took over, and he felt his mind spun round and round, between shipwrecks and falling into the dark, Stone holding a gun and putting it into his mouth, clicking the trigger... just clicking it, over and over and over... Nothing came out of the gun, but he kept clicking it, and then somewhere else, somewhere later on in the dream strange shapeless and faceless shadows moving around, yet it felt therapeutically peaceful.

.

Day - March 27th
10:30 am

The pleasant sound of floorboards creaking, as though someone was in the cabin walking around over and over again, pacing and doing jobs, getting things done... He felt himself drifting in and out of a feverish dream, unable to tell what was reality and what wasn't. Was he still asleep, or was he awake? He must have nodded off again for a bit, for the next time he woke he felt strangely aware of the morning light streaming into the room and an unusual calm, and the duvet pulled up around his shoulders, and it felt late...

.

Day - March 27th
11:00 am

He blinked sleepily, and checked beside him. It was empty...

Right.

He couldn't deal with this now.

The lack of sleep and no coffee or food, and stress and bright sunlight made him feel slightly nauseous. He pulled the blind half closed, and slowly dragged himself up Into a sitting position. Gradually, he made his way to the bathroom to relieve himself and as he returned, the familiar sound of floorboards creaking from down below made his ears twitch.

Stone!!

Was he back?! Had he only just gotten in?! He would kill him!!

It was all he could do to muster enough energy to stomp downstairs wearily, noting vaguely the dirty trainers kicked off roughly by the door, sodden and muddy. Wet clothes had been dropped beside the trainers, his hoodie and a tee, and.. socks and.. was that, lace?! ... His gaze only focused on the underwear for a split second, before Stone came padding out in fresh dry clothes and socks, and flung his arms around him. Fuuuck... He felt much too hungover, to deal with.. this...

"Coffee?" he chirped, as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

It was all he could do to slide down into one of the kitchen chairs, holding his head in one hand and wonder what in gods name he had let himself in for.

Stone did not wear lace.

So who's underwear was that on the floor??

Was he cheating on him?!

Had he been safe all night?!

Chapter Text

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| R O B O T N I K |

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Day - March 27th

11:30 am

Breakfast was a quiet, tense affair.

There was not enough coffee in the world to go round to make things right, nor enough calming camomile tea to stop his anxiety from rising to the surface. There was not enough French toast (or brioche), or eggs, beans, hash browns, sausages, mushrooms, tomatoes, bacon or any other possible breakfast addition to satisfy the hunger of a lonely, heartbroken man. And whilst he did not verbalise any of these things, nor show any discomfort towards Stone in any way - other than to merely say that he had had a rough night, and that he was overtired, and had had a lot on his mind - the insinuation was still there.

Stone certainly noticed, after a time, that his partner was not quite himself though he did not press the matter further. There was just a deeply uncomfortable silence between them, and the morning air suddenly did not feel quite so fresh as it had done before.

The atmosphere was so sharp that it could've cut itself without the aid of a knife.

Every tiny fork clink echoed like glasses colliding loudly, being smashed against one another. Every soft pan scrape was like tin buckets being banged for the pigs to hurry up and feed, every natural exhale of light breathe was like horses rushing through heavy waters, and the sink filling to soak everything was like a tsunami on a building site.

Every attempt to keep the conversation going, felt like a prison warden's expectation of forced peace between the father of a brutally murdered six year old girl, and her vicious psychotic kidnapper who had no intention of showing any mercy of the sort, and who revelled not only in the killing, but the now disgusting injustice of his freedom.

Every attempt at peace resulted in more silent noise, and the louder the quiet became, the louder the noise.

Suddenly, the washing machine - having whirred and ticked over gently, on a low spin - came roaring into life rattling the countertops and knocking into things. Painfully drawing attention to the fact that he, Stone, had obviously been a very busy boy that morning, getting many domestic jobs done - with no thought of saying good morning to him at all, as though nothing had happened. While he, Rob, had been up all night frantic with worry, before collapsing into bed with exhaustion.

Stone having snuck in again at early hours, after apparently having had a great time, with no thought for him at all. Treating this luxury cabin, his generous finances, his endless patience and kindness, his deep trust, his tender love for him and their intimate relationship like a cheap one night shag in some grotesque back-alley hostel alive with disease, cockroaches and drug addicts. Free for him to come and go as he pleased, and disregard anyone he pleased as he saw fit, leaving them in the dirt like trash.

The microwave dinged loudly for the second time, having heated up a wheat bag, painfully drawing attention to the fact that 'breakfast was now done,' and 'Stone was going to bed.'

Right. So that was it then.

They were done.

The automatic robot floor cleaner peeped and bumped into things like a stupid child, demanding attention where none had been earned, and shouting (non-verbally) about crap that it couldn't do because 'it didn't feel like it' and 'there was a crumb in the way' and 'daddy didn't say I had to.'

The kettle rocketed with boiling water, screaming and whistling it's traumatic psychedelic nightmares for the world to hear, like an escaped asylum seeker. The hot water being for the bucket on the floor next to the mop obviously, and the bottle of bleach.. why...? ...Why was he cleaning?? So hard?? In a pristine kept kitchen used only a couple of times a year? The list of jobs went on, as he looked around and saw how busy he was making himself. But why?
.

Did he really hate talking to him that much?! Did he actually dislike his time spent with him?

Was he missing home? Did he resent him for keeping him away from his little sister?

Was this some kind of power struggle between them? Was he trying to gain some kind of control?

Could he not stand the hygiene standards here?! Did he feel trapped, on this island?

Was he stress cleaning? Was he in trouble, or hurt? Had something happened?

Did he think he was too good for them?! Or was this escape to a remote place a horrible mistake?

His anxiety gripped him again with its tight vicious claws, with its unyielding hold. He actually felt suffocated, and as though he was being shoved out the way like an unwelcome bull in a china shop, kicked out of his own kitchen, his own cabin. And as the sheer cacophony of noise completely overwhelmed him, and the atmosphere thickened suffocatingly, he felt forced - like an agonisingly shy autistic child put on edge during a major meltdown - to withdraw back to the safety of his quiet space upstairs.

.-.-.

Day - March 27th

12:30 pm

Despite everything, he suddenly found that he no longer cared about what had happened that night, or so far on their journey anymore.

The full nights exhaustion had taken hold of him, and he wanted nothing more than to sink back into their warm double bed (if he could still call it theirs) - beneath the puffy red, maroon and white country-chequered duvet - and drop right off to sleep beside his partner. He didn't want Stone, as he was right now or who he had become lately, but his partner. His actual partner - where had he gone?

He was not one to show - or admit to having - emotional feelings easily, besides resentment, but as he rubbed his weary tired eyes - he was getting too old for this - he felt.. rather lonely and abandoned. Angry with frustration, injured pride, worried sick, let down and.. dare he say.. neglected? He felt he had done everything he could, so far, to grant him at least a little privilege of keeping things to himself, respecting his privacy and his space, and his sudden constant need of solitude and isolation - two words that could mean two very different things.

Not to mention that he had given him his trust, his deepest and most ultimate trust, and that was a most generous offer even on the most basic, most restricted of levels.

But as he lay there, curled up and vulnerable, buried under the duvet all by himself, feeling all alone, rejected and backstabbed in every way possible, a great wave of emotional pain and depression hit him from somewhere far down below, a nasty reminiscent feeling of his childhood, a feeling like the worst was yet to come... and he trembled a little, unable to hold back a small sob of fear. He gripped the pillow hard, buying his face into it and holding it against him, trying to calm his raging anxiety and avoid an internal panic attack.

He was not going to let anyone see him like this. He was not going to let anyone make fun of him,

or hurt him beyond belief, or treat him in a sickening manner or belittle him. Or degrade him.

Not anymore.

All of a sudden he wanted to be held, and cuddled, and rocked soothingly, which wasn't something he was used to admitting to, not even with Stone. But he wanted close comfort, soothing reassurance, some love and gentle clarity that.. they were ok... that he wasn't going to leave him and, perhaps even a little affection? He wanted his princess back by his side for him to kiss and cuddle in return, to hold dear to him like a precious pet, to trust him with his everything, to make up with and move on, to read to and be read to, and hum to and be hummed to, and totally torment and boss around, and lovingly insult, and tickle and mess his hair up.

He was curious, what exactly Stone got from it when he tickled him, (which he probably didn't do nearly often enough, now he thought of it, but which he longed to, always. God he craved it.) He couldn't get enough of his baby's wild cackles and squeals and shrieks of laughter, his wriggling and feeble kicking, and frantic begs for him to quit it when he squeezed his ribs at lightning speed, or switched quickly between belly and armpits, then blew raspberries on his belly as he targeted his ribs again. Yet he seemed to enjoy it so much, and the endless giggle fits he had didn't seem to bother him. In fact his little caramel eyes seemed to light up in excitement and delight, and follow him round the room. Every. Single. Movement.

...Did he really like it that much??

He wanted Stone to spoon him from behind, and be spooned for hours, and for them to nap together peacefully all day enjoying their time together if even in drowsy silence - sometimes the most intimate form of love. Letting one's guard down to enjoy curling up like a puppyish mush and not care what people thought or did about it.

He wanted to slowly strip for him, perhaps even slowly strip him, if he allowed it... right down to those cute little lace panties that he had been wearing... carefully cutting them off with scissors, and taking away his protection... unwrapping his present...

He wanted to blindfold him, to tie him to the bedposts, to a chair, a table, anything... just so he could fuck him into next year.

To tickle him in one of the worst and most maddening spots ever with ostrich feathers... Could he take it? Without squirming, and fidgeting? ...While being scolded for getting turned on? While he was supposedly being punished?

His mind was drifting...

His hand had wandered downwards...

His eyes were slowly closing, in paradise...

He hadn't wanted to do this, not without Stone being here,

but the temptation, the requirement, it was so fucking strong...

Too fucking strong...

He even.. he was sure he would never admit this out loud though.. had curiously, and very cautiously, pondered what it might be like to let.. someone like.. someone he could trust, like Stone... maybe... possibly... even tickle him back? Just a little bit... just to see how it felt, to see whether it felt good or not, and then to be given such a hot ultimatum.

He wanted to kiss his sweet little nose and lay his large, warm skilled hands on his chest, gently telling him to breathe. God he wanted sex with him badly, he craved it like crazy, he didn't know how much more of his teasing and absence he could take. Was that it? Was that what he was trying to do? To drive him crazy and make him beg for it? Well he was not going to beg.

He wanted his sweetness by his side, his baby, his schnookums so that (his) nipples could be teased, stroked and for a gentle throbbing in his groin, just enough to seduce him and send him to sleep, like a warm evening drink would with a light sedative effect to it.

He wanted to be looked after again, just for a while, and babied - or pampered, should he say.

No, not pampered exactly, nor babied, but cared for. Looked after. Loved. A part of him greatly missed Stone padding about after him, pawing at him and constantly trying to get him to eat or play with him. Perhaps he just missed Stone... perhaps he just didn't see the point of anything anymore... Perhaps he was just tired, beyond all meanings of exhaustion...

Perhaps he needed to sleep.

.

Day - March 27th

12:30 pm - 13:30 pm

Stone padded after him in his soft socks for a while, and his caramel hoodie and denim Bermuda shorts, feeling cuddly and warm and at home with the floorboards creaking cosily under his movement. It had been a good night, and so many things had happened, so many things he felt ready to share with the doctor now. He felt a little excited, and so excited was he at the prospect at what was potentially going to happen, that he was completely oblivious to everything around him.

He eventually came quietly upstairs with the wheat bag that he had prepared for the doctor (and a hot water bottle.) It was his, but it helped him with headaches and stress, and he had thoughtfully put it in the microwave to bring to his partner. Clearly Rob had not slept well, and he felt guilty for going out late at night again, but as his excitement and general good mood could not do anything to spoil his revelation, his discovery, he hadn't looked into it too much.

The hot water bottle had been put inside his toy bat cover, a present from his little sister one year, something he was particularly fond of and very protective over. He would cuddle it at night sometimes, and imagine that he was close to her. But he was giving it to Rob to keep him warm and relax him, as he had clearly overworked himself on the sly, and stressed himself out. They would be having words about that - he was supposed to be resting. That's why they were out here, was it not? So that he could have some much needed rest. That's why he hadn't taken anything with him, so that he could get away from it all for a while?

He tiptoed upstairs and opened the door a crack to check on him, before padding in across the floorboards, avoiding the creaky ones as best he could. He sat beside him on the stool for a few moments, quietly watching him drop off to sleep properly. His eyes were closed already, he was clearly unconscious but not deep enough for his liking, not yet. He watched and waited, protectively, until he was satisfied that he was slumbering and his breaths were less and more relaxed, before carefully lifting the duvet up - quite like a mission on Christmas Eve - and laying the bat beside him, pressed up against his chest, and the wheat bag just under his pillow.

The doctor might have heard some soft sounds, from somewhere far away in his dreams, and others like control sticks clicking lightly (a games console), and the low sound of the washing machine below them, and a glass being set down on a wood table (a bedside cabinet.) There was the occasional light sniffling, and exhale of breath or low mumble, but none of these reached him. Not really.

.

Day - March 27th

17:30 pm

When he did finally come round, and sensed that Stone had come to bed and settled down beside him, he froze. His breathing stiffened, his body stiffened, and his anxiety clung to him still, a looming sense of dread and doom as though he had done something terribly wrong.

He felt a little hand touch his shoulder, and he froze trying to readjust his breathing, from the slightly raised rate - practically the start of another anxiety attack already.

"Doctor?"

A little sad and worried voice spoke to him from behind, and he swallowed hard to try and stop the 'hay fever' from returning. The terrible hay fever that only chose opportune moments like this to appear. The type that would prick his eyes, and burn his throat and hurt his head, and make his eyes water and..

"Are you ok?"

Oh god. Not that question.

He went to inhale quietly, and a ragged breath sounded loudly. Shit.

"Doctor?"

Oh shit.

He was crying.

"...Hey, hey, hey!"

He hadn't cried since.. well, not since..

"Sweetheart..."

He thought he had been crying very quietly...

Strong warm arounds and legs wrapped around him and held him close, as Stone shushed him and loved him for a time, before gently asking him to roll over. But he didn't want to. He was ashamed, and he had no idea why. He felt scared to death that he was going to leave him, to look at him and think him pathetic, stupid, ridiculous, and..

"Please, look at me..."

His voice was heartbroken and pitiful.

He bit his lip hard, he couldn't bear to hear such sadness in his voice, how could he still be angry with him?

Finally he decided to be a man about it. He took a deep breath, and went to sit up, and as soon as he glanced sideways with burning humiliation and timid embarrassment, he felt more leaks. Why was he being so fucking weak? He was a control addict, a real man, not some campy pansy sailor boy or wimpy boy-scout with warped ideas of the whole world. He had to get a grip!

Stone's injured expression nearly killed him, in fact it felt like he had. The next thing he knew, the boy had practically grabbed him and pulled him into a fierce bear hug, had laid his cheek on his head, and was rocking him and shushing him as he cried and trembled quietly, and clung to him.

Stone had never seen him cry, and he was ashamed that he was doing so now. He was ashamed. He felt disgusted with himself.

And this, he told himself bitterly, was what damaged goods felt like - and he was damaged goods...

What the hell would Stone want to do with him??