Archive of Our Own

We were staying in Paris
[…]

We breathe in the air of this small town
On our own, cutting class for the thrill of it
Getting drunk on the past we were living in

If we go down, then we go down together
They'll say you could do anything
They'll say that I was clever
If we go down, then we go down together
We'll get away with everything
Let's show them we are better

-

Paris – The Chainsmokers

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ S ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time Stone finishes his tenth lap around the hotel, Paris is only just starting to wake up. In the soft light of early morning sun, the buzz of voices is starting to pick up, shop keepers are putting signs in front of their doors to entice customers inside and the first tourists going out for sightseeing cross the former agent’s path.

A little out of breath from his quick run and still in running gear, Stone is well aware that he is garnering a few curious looks while he ducks past the people heading the other way; likely because very few tourists actually go running at the crack of dawn while they are on vacation.

But then, he is no common tourist, is he?

Holding back an eye roll at the obvious staring, Stone plasters on an empty smile he secretly calls his “customer care smile” and makes a point of subtly not making eye contact while he ducks past the bodies in his way and into the entrance hall of the hotel.  Turning his smile up a few notches, he addresses the receptionist in perfect French, “My keys, please. Room 241.”

He barely even registers the raised eyebrow and the sweeping gaze over his rumple appearance the receptionist gives him, something he would usually have internally bristled against. He barely pays attention to it now, grabbing the offered keys blindly and heading for the stairs. He takes it two steps at once, mentally already jumping ahead, wondering how his boss - former boss? Partner in crime? It was difficult with the titles these days - is faring. A quick look at his watch tells him there is no new messages, and he relaxes significantly. Good; no emergencies in his absence, then.

Maybe he is being overprotective here, but ever since their crushing defeat and the decision to leave the country for a bit, lay low while they recovered and regrouped, Stone and Robotnik had been basically inseparable, partly out of necessity, but mostly because both of them seemed to only be able to fully relax when they know of the other’s whereabouts.

Stone knows his own need to stay close to the doctor is born from the eight months of not knowing where the other was; if he was even still alive. Sometimes he wonders if it is the same for Robotnik.

He reaches their floor and their room in record time, only stopping briefly to knock three times like they agreed on before entering. Despite the knocks, he feels it's right to still call out, “I’m back” as a reassurance for the doctor that is it actually him at the door, and not a stranger.

“Finally,” comes the gruff reply from the vicinity of the main room. “I was already considering if I really had sunk so low that I have to make my coffee myself now.”

Biting back an amused snort at the petulance in the words, Stone closes the door again and starts to wrestle out of the light jacket he had been wearing for his run, already shooting back, “There is a perfectly fine room service only one phone call away.”

“Pfffft,” How a man could make the sound of an eye-roll audible in a single huff, Stone would never know. “And you think they can manage to make a coffee like you do? You should know by now how incompetent these monkeys are, Stone.”

A warm glow nestles somewhere in the vicinity of Stone’s chest and he grins. Sometimes he wonders if the doctor is even aware of how much praise he actually gifts him during the course of a day, even if it might be for small, irrelevant things. It is certainly happening a lot more after the eight months they had been apart, and after their second run-in with the blue hedgehog. Sometimes it’s absentminded, slipping out as if Robotnik briefly forgets to filter his own words, and other times, it comes in the form of very pointedly putting Stone above the rest of humanity. Each of these instances keeps surprising Stone pleasantly, no matter how many times he hears it.

He manages to wrangle his joyous grin back into a smile by the time he steps fully into the room and thus into the doctor's view. It wouldn't even have been necessary though; Robotnik barely glances up from the tablet he is focused on intently when Stone comes in.

It allows Stone to give himself a quick overview, taking note of the doctor's state as discreetly as possible. When he had left for his run this morning, Robotnik had still been in the bathroom and only acknowledged his called goodbye with a grunt, not giving him a chance to check in on him. By now, the doctor had taken up residence in the armchair which he had commandeered as his on the very first day they had arrived here, tablet in hand, and his splinted leg propped up on a stool in front of him. He is looking healthier by the day, Stone notes with no little relief, the bruises and cuts sustained from the fall and from being buried under the robot's wreckage are barely there anymore. The only obvious thing still in need of mending now is the leg, and that will simply be a matter of time and patience.

Checkup completed, Stone ambles over to the coffee machine in the corner - a huge thing with all the amenities, and, most importantly, the option to steam milk. A "drinkable latte" had been the first thing Robotnik had demanded once they had arrived here, and Stone had been all too happy to procure a machine so he could make the doctor all the lattes he wanted. The process of preparing them has become something of a comfort for him, as well, he ponders while doing just that, steaming the milk precisely to the right point and expertly mixing it with the coffee.

By the time Stone is carrying over the perfectly prepared latte, Robotnik has still not looked up from the tablet, apparently completely fascinated by whatever is happening on the screen. There are low sounds coming from the tablet, but nothing loud enough to make sense of it. From time to time, Robotnik huffs a laugh and taps at the screen, seemingly slowing the video down or jumping back to his favorite parts.

Curious now, Stone steps closer and around the armchair to get a look for himself.  He regrets the decision immediately once he is behind the doctor; from this view point, he realizes that the screen is currently showing a familiar sight, and he freezes. “Doctor…”

Immediately, Robotnik rips a single hand up to silence him, gaze never leaving the screen. “Bab! Quiet. This is the best part.”

With a mixture of abject horror and reluctant pride, Stone watches how on the screen, former Karen’s Coffee member number two falls victims to his very own machinations and is being transported away by a group of Badniks. It is a familiar sight by now; both because he had been there for it, and because Robotnik had watched the recordings multiple times since Stone had told him about the events. The former agent never really knows how to feel about seeing his boss obsess over this so much. “How many times have you watched this by now?”

Robotnik clacks his tongue, waving a hand to shush him without raising his gaze from the screen. “I do not keep track of irrelevant things, Stone.”

Which means in other words a lot of times. Shaking his head, Stone can’t help but blurt out. “Are you really this bored?”

He doesn’t mean to say it, and the moment the words are out of his mouth, he knows he made a mistake, but it’s too late. Robotnik hits the pause button on the screen so resolutely he nearly knocks the tablet out of his own hands and turns towards Stone with a glare which would have made any other man cover in fear. “Bored?” There is scathing derision in the few syllables, the word spit out harshly enough to cut flesh and make a man bleed. “Bored? I’ve been stuck in one room for days on end, unable to move freely thanks to a defective limb, without anything stimulating to occupy my genius mind with except for recordings of your escapades in my absence. Bored is not a strong enough word to describe my current state, Stone.”

Heavy silence settles over them after the brief outburst, the two of them staring at each other. It is not like they were not both aware of this, before today, but it is the first time one of them dares to address it aloud. Or, slips up and addresses it, Stone corrects, wryly amused when Robotnik breathes out sharply and presses two fingers to the bridge of his nose, avoiding all eye contact. It is very clear that the doctor had not meant to say so much, but it must have been brewing inside of him for a while now. He had been forced to rest his broken body for over a week now, after all. Much longer than he usually would have.

And that is the crux of the matter, isn’t it? Stone concedes with a sigh, fondly exasperated. Robotnik had never been particularly good at resting. And now, stuck with a useless limb and condemned to lie and sit a lot, he is being particularly difficult. All the manic energy he usually put into his work and into moving – he never really stood still – now does not have any kind of outlet, and the doctor had more and more turned into a twitchy, jumpy and most of all irritable patient. Over the course of the last few days, he had gotten more and more short-tempered, with himself, with Stone, with every little thing which could possibly trigger his frustration. Stone had tried to soothe him where he could, expertly using little things like well-timed coffee deliveries or pointed jokes at just the right time to stop the doctor’s mounting anger before it could really come to a head, but it makes sense that it was only a matter of time before that wouldn’t be enough anymore.

Time for a different approach, then.

Stone weighs his chances of success only for the briefest moment before jumping into it headfirst. He sets the cup down on the table next to the armchair and crosses his arms, announcing in the most decisive tone he can muster, “Let’s go out today.”

Robotnik stops massaging his forehead and tips his head back, staring at him upside down, eyebrow twitching up nearly to his regrowing hairline. “Out?” And there is the mocking, scathing tone which had been predominate the last few days. “Did you already forget we are trying to keep a low profile, sycophant?”

Stone does not let the cutting tone and words unsettle him. He is so used to them that they barely even register. Undeterred, he lays his crossed arms on top of the backrest of the doctor’s seat in order to lean down to eye-level with him, noting distantly that the older man does not twitch away from the possibility of physical contact like he once used to. “Sure, but low profile does not mean we have to hole up in our hotel room and never once set foot outside. Right now, we are tourists. Tourists go outside and do sightseeing.”

“Tourists,” Robotnik’s face pulls into a disgusted sneer. “Bad enough that you dare to apply such a term to me, but that you want me to behave like one…”

“Keeping a low-profile means playing a role, most of the times,” Stone counters smoothly. He has prepared these arguments for days now, always keeping them ready for a moment just like this. “Even if you put only the most basic effort into it, like showing yourself outside, enjoying the city on a nice day like this. Going outside could also help alleviate your boredom, and it can provide some advantageous physical exercise to help strengthen your leg again.”

He finishes in a pointedly calm voice, fighting to keep the triumph out of his last few words – because he can already see the gears behind Robotnik’s eyes starting to turn, assessing his every word, picking apart the logic of it. Because logic is what you need if you want to convince the doctor of anything, really; it does not matter how passionate or driven your speech is, most of the times, what he needs to change his mind is cold, hard, facts.

A beat passes in which Robotnik mentally pokes and prods at Stone’s words before his face does a complicated twitch, circling through a myriad of different emotions in record time. It settles on a scowl, but his mustache trembles lightly with the effort of keeping a smirk back. “Smartass.”

Jackpot. Stone smiles brightly, not even trying for nonchalance this time. “Why, thank you.”

“Don’t gloat, Stone, it’s not a good look on you,” Robotnik snaps, but there is an undercurrent of amusement to it, softening the blow. He enjoys the back and forth between them just as much as Stone does, after all, even when he sometimes does not come out on top. He flaps a hand in a I don’t care gesture, rolling his eyes for show. “Fine. I believe I can spare you an hour or so to give this a try.”

“That’s plenty already.”

Robotnik gives a snort which clearly indicates how much he doubts that, then waves a hand at Stone and his rumpled clothes. “That doesn’t mean I will let myself be seen with you looking like this. You look like you ran a marathon just now. Go change.”

Stone ducks his head to hide his elated grin and rushes to comply; who knows if the doctor won't change his mind again if he takes too long with the preparations? He only stops to grab a white shirt with short sleeves and simple black pants on the way to the bathroom before hurrying to take possibly the quickest shower of his entire life. He does not even bother to blow-dry his hair afterwards, only towels himself dry with enough force for it to hurt to be as fast as possible.

He is still slipping into his shirt when he steps back into the room, hair a little damp. “Bathroom is free,” Stone announces distractedly, patting down his shirt one last time. Sometimes he misses the neat lines of his suits, he muses with a light frown, those were easier to straighten out and make him look presentable.

Belatedly, he notes that the doctor had not immediately stormed past him into the bathroom to prepare, and he glances up briefly, then finds himself lingering when he notices that Robotnik is looking at him with that look. The one which means he is analyzing something, turning data over in his mind and sorting it into a new picture. It is usually not a look he directs at Stone, though, so the former agent hesitates, perplexed. “Doctor?”

Robotnik blinks, once, seemingly resurfacing from whatever thought process he had been deeply invested in. When he catches Stone’s questioning gaze, he huffs, and gestures at, well, all of the former agent, really. “I realize now that in all the time you worked for me, I have never seen you in anything but a suit.”

What a strange thing to notice. The sudden attention makes Stone’s hands already itch once more, wanting to smooth down a suit jacket which is no longer there. He redirects it into tugging at the short sleeve of his shirt, instead. “… It was the proper work attire. But now, I think I would stick out like a sore thumb if I pretended to be a tourist in a suit.”

The explanation receives a curt nod from the doctor. By all means that should have been the end of that conversation. But Robotnik still looks contemplative, and it is throwing Stone off more than he likes. He is not a vain man by nature or self-conscious about his appearance… usually. This is different. This is Robotnik, probably the only person whose opinion Stone actually cares about. Not enough to bend himself, but at least enough to meet him halfway. “Should I go change again?”

Another blink, before Robotnik frowns suddenly, pulling a face and looking to the side with a huff. “Why ask me? I don’t care what you wear, either way.”

“I-… alright.” That sounded different a second ago, but okay, Stone shrugs, mentally chalking this incident up to another one of the doctor’s strange moods. He might know him well, but not even he is always sure what is going in that genius mind. Better not think about it too hard. Changing the subject, Stone makes a step aside, indicating the bathroom once more. “So, bathroom is free.”

“I heard you the first time, sycophant.” With a huff of annoyance, Robotnik breezes past him, and slams the door in his back. Stone is left behind to blink at the solid wood, shaking his head slowly with a crooked grin. Strange man.

While he waits, the former agent puts away the empty cup from the doctor's morning latte, then sets about preparing light luggage. He ducks to pull a backpack from under the bed and goes through its content with quick and practiced moves, deciding what can stay here and what has to be taken with them on the trip. There are not many useful technologies left for them to use, after their assets were frozen and they lost access to all their labs. The main Badniks are gone, and the equipment to make new ones is missing. They will have to make do with what is left. A few smaller Badniks – flash grenades as well as ones with more explosive qualities – find their places in the backpack and in his trouser pockets. A gun is slipped into his waistband, and a knife in a holster hidden close to his ankle.

Stone hesitates briefly, then presses a combination on his smartwatch, making a little red dot blink up on the screen. Satisfied with the sight, and Stone grins, happy to know that the tracker is still in place and running.

As if on cue, the bathroom door in his back flies open again, and Robotnik snaps, “Stop spying on me, Stone.”

“You really have a sixth sense for that, don’t you,” Stone does not try to hide the laughter in his words, but obediently makes the tracking app vanish again.

“I can feel you watching. It makes my mustache stand on end.” Robotnik walks past him, spine straight and steps careful to hide the way he still sways with every step, right leg dragging slightly behind. He takes a quick glance at the content of Stone’s backpack and reaches over to throw another mini-Badnik on top of it.

Stone notes the way the other’s shoulders are tight, lips curled into a sneer, and gentles his voice into something more genuine, hoping to reassure the doctor he is not making fun of him. “I’m very glad you agreed to put on the tracker, in the end.”

“Agreed,” Robotnik mocks without looking up. "You used my weakened state against me to force it on me.”

“That is not what happened, and you know it.” Stone interjects, more forcefully than before. He knows Robotnik is aware that he could have said No if he really wanted to  and Stone would not have pushed further. He is not going to let the doctor pretend otherwise just to save face; not with this. Softer, he adds, “I don’t want to spy on you. But knowing that I have a way to find you should we ever get separated makes me worry a little less.”

A huff, and Robotnik moves in a way which is half a shrug, half a head shake. Unconvinced. It is to be expected, Stone supposes; the doctor is still struggling to accept the fact that despite everything, there is someone who actively worries for his well-being without expecting to get anything in return for it. He is only now slowly coming around to even considering it a possibility, after Stone had stuck by his side despite the fact that Robotnik no longer paid him for his services, and despite having to be on the run as a wanted criminal. It would take a long, long time until Robotnik could be comfortable with the knowledge of someone liking him.

Stone intends to stick around for as long as it takes, and longer.

Holding up his left arm, putting the watch around his wrist on show, Stone lightly remarks, “Besides. The spying goes both ways.” 

At first Robotnik only glances briefly his way before he really registers what Stone is getting at, and then he snorts quietly, shoulders visibly relaxing. Perhaps he remembers, too, how easily Stone accepted the fact that the doctor could pinpoint his exact location whenever he felt like it. “Yes, great, now that makes me feel better.”

“Glad to be of service, doctor.”

Robotnik sends a glower his way, but refrains from answering verbally. He turns and takes the few precarious steps over to his armchair, taking the sleek black cane resting against the side of it. The moment he is able to rest most of his weight on the walking aid, a good deal of the tension melts from his frame and he straightens, immediately standing more secure.

The cane had been a good plan B, Stone thinks, mentally patting himself on the back. The crutches he had initially gotten had only survived a little over two days before the doctor had somehow managed to get rid of them behind Stone’s back. Stone had been smart enough not to make a second attempt at it, and instead shown up in the hotel room with the cane next. At Robotnik’s initial scowl over the perceived unnecessary accessory, Stone had mildly pointed out “you can hit people with it”. That had managed to put a stopper into whatever rant the doctor had geared up for, and since then, he actually used the cane whenever he had to walk further than a few wobbly steps. Stone counted it as an extra bonus that nobody had actually been hit yet, least of all himself.

"Stone!" Robotnik, having crossed back over, snaps his fingers directly in front of the former agent's face to pull him from his thoughts. "When you're finished staring holes into me, recall that we're on a time schedule here, and the clock’s ticking already."

"It is?" Stone asks mildly, pretending not to know.

It doesn't really work, since Robotnik knows him too well. "I gave you an hour for this escapade, as you well know."

"An hour or so, I believe is what you said." Stone corrects, hiding a smile. "That is a flexible term."

Frowning, Robotnik stabs one finger in his direction. "Don't push it sycophant. And now come on, let's get this over with."

Orders imparted, Robotnik turns and makes for the door, reaching out in passing to grab a pair of sunglasses, a hat and a scarf from the wardrobe before breezing out of the room.

Left behind, Stone makes no attempt at all to hide his quiet laugh at the dramatic exit, before shouldering the backpack and following his boss in a much less dramatic fashion.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ S ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Where do you want to go first?" Stone asks once they are outside of the hotel, with the whole of Paris stretching out in front of them to explore at their leisure.

The answer to the rather hopeful question comes delayed; Robotnik is busy still drawing a light, dark scarf around the lower part of his face. Together with the hat drawn low into his face and the sunglasses, it will hopefully help hide who he really is. He doesn’t even look up from his fiddling when he answers, “Why do you think I want to go somewhere?”

“Nothing you always wanted to see in Paris when you have the free time?”

“I never really considered the possibility of free time,” Robotnik speaks the term in a voice so full of distaste that it is clear he had liked it that way. With a flap of his hand, he indicates Stone. “You decide. This was your idea, after all.”

All the pressure on him then. Stone is not surprised, but he had been… hoping, to be honest, that the doctor would be a little more forthcoming with ideas. Showing just a little bit of interest in this trip would have already been nice. Fine then. Mentally, he quickly goes through all the things he had always considered a “must see” should he ever get to spend time in the City of Lights, and starts adjusting the list to fit with Robotnik’s tastes. Nothing too far from the hotel, considering the doctor’s current state. And not too many of the typical sights; there would be too many people there, which would only serve to sour the genius’ mood even further. Maybe he can get away with sneaking one or two popular places into their trip, but he will have to settle for only a small margin of it all. He scratches out the most popular like the Eiffel tower or the Arc of Triumph immediately. The catacombs briefly cross his mind -interesting, and just morbid enough to satisfy Robotnik’s darker humor - but he shudders at only the briefest thought of tons and tons of stone and dirt encompassing them from all sides. This, he rejects out of his own sensibilities; he really does not like the thought of bringing Robotnik back underground, when it has been only too recently that he had to dig him out of the crash site of a robot with his own bare hands. No underground trips at all, if he could help it.

List of possible places shrinking by a good deal, Stone smiles, satisfied with the outcome. “I think I know where to go first.”

An eyebrow arches over the rim of Robotnik’s sunglasses, and the genius makes a motion that is half-shooing, half-pointing. “Lead the way, then.”

Wasting no time, Stone reaches out, only hesitating long enough to let the doctor nod imperceptibly before he loops his arm around Robotnik’s, providing support on the side without the cane. It is a habit they have fallen into after The Crash Site, as he mentally calls the events which have brought them to Paris, and it is a duty Stone is quite proud of. Not many people can say of themselves that they are allowed to get close to Robotnik, much less close enough to touch, and Stone is allowed all that and trusted to provide support.

Linking their arms tightly, Stone turns them both to the left, pointing ahead while he explains “This way. It is not too far.”

Robotnik hums, unconvinced, but he follows without a hitch, and that alone is already enough to make Stone beam.

As he promised, they do not walk far until their reach their first stops. Down the street, then two corners further, and their path spills out into promenade along the Seine. Here they are greeted by the gurgle of the river and the golden sunlight of a beautiful mid-morning; truly a sight to see. But that is not something Robotnik would be interested in, and not why Stone brought them here, so he does not waste any time taking it all in before he steers the doctor gently in one direction, further down the promenade, until they come to stand in front of a small coffee shop, tucked in between larger houses left and right and easily overlooked if you didn't know it was there. Few small tables are set up out in front, but nobody is sitting there yet this early in the morning.

Stone stops right next to one table and squeezes the arm linked in his lightly while tilting his head towards the coffee shop. “Inside, or wait here?”

Robotnik chances only a quick look at the crowd inside the cozy space and immediately pulls a face, turning towards one of the small tables close by. “Wait here, obviously.”

“I will be quick about it,” Stone assures while he helps him ease down into one of the small chairs.

A distracted hum comes from Robotnik while he gives him a wave, signaling that he is fine.  The sharp gaze is already straying away, wandering out over the street and the people walking up and down there.

Stone takes note of the fact that his former boss seems sufficiently distracted and not bored for the moment with a light smile and turns to go get them something to drink.

The inside of the cafe is just as cozy as the outside. Small, but not cramped. Light, airy colors, perfectly in tune with the sunlight filtering in through the large store front windows. Overall, a friendly and welcoming atmosphere. Stone notices all that with the practice of someone who had operated his own coffee shop for a while, approving and disapproving absentmindedly of some of the style choices, but he is not really all there. Half of his focus keeps returning towards the window to his left, through where he can see Robotnik sitting at the table, good leg bouncing lightly while he waits.

Obviously, there is no latte with Austrian goat milk to be had in the little shop, but Stone knows all the possible alternatives by heart by now, and easily picks out the next best thing, ordering in fluent French while he keeps glancing over towards the window. He barely registers the very friendly sales lady smiling at him and inquiring after his day, only throws a distracted smile and a murmured answer her way before checking in with Robotnik again. The doctor’s leg is bouncing faster by now. Better hurry.

He orders a black coffee for himself and makes to turn when his gaze catches on one of the showcases to the sides. It is filled with a collection of crepes of different kinds, from hearty ones filled with vegetables, meat or cheese over to the sweet ones with jam, sugar, chocolate and fruits. Interest caught, Stone inquires, “Ah, excuse me - how much for one of these?”

The young woman lights up when she notices his interest. “Sept euros.”

Not too pricey, he supposes, and picks two crepes with strawberries, and two with apricot jam. The sales lady expertly wraps them for him before handing them over and wishing him a nice day, and Stone feels generous enough to give her a real smile in answer and wish her the same before hurrying back out of the shop.

Robotnik is still the only one seated at one of the tables when Stone steps out again, and he has not spotted him yet, engrossed in people-watching. It gives Stone the extra seconds needed to balance all his purchases into the crook of one arm and then just kind of... stare, a little, he is not ashamed to admit it. It is still a little odd to see Robotnik like this; not in his usual suits, coats or whatnot, but in something more casual, and Stone likes to drink it all in whenever he gets the chance to. For today, the doctor had settled on a long-sleeved button-down and a light blazer, both in a dark greyish-blue, and matching pants. The hat with short brim is drawn low into his face to hide his features to the best of its abilities, causing it to slip far enough to one side that the regrowing hair at his temples is peeking put.

To anyone else, the entire getup wouldn't have seemed all that different from the doctor's usual style, but to Stone, it is worlds apart. The gloves are missing, for one; Robotnik's hands strangely bare without them. The button-down is lacking a high collar, and it's sleeves are folded back twice, just enough to show off pale forearms, flexing with the constant motion of fingers rubbing together. Perhaps a side effect of the missing gloves, Stone notes. The doctor does not seem to be aware he is doing it.

All in all, the change is charring in the best and worst of ways for stone. There has long since been a theory in the back of his mind that Robotnik's favorite attire acts as an armor as much as it is simply about fashion and style.  He has never seen the man anything but dressed to the nines and buttoned up, clad in layers upon layers and with as little skin on display as possible. It had helped to make him seem even more collected, even more untouchable.

So this? This is already dressed down for Robotnik’s standards. Comfortable. It is a good look on him, not that Stone would ever dare to tell him. He thinks if he would, then all the doctor’s many walls would slam back up, and it would be the last glimpse of a less guarded Robotnik that Stone would ever get. But…

Without much thinking, Stone reaches for his phone as discreetly as possible and unlocks the camera with a swipe. He might never be able to tell him, but he will be damned if he lets this opportunity simply slip by him. It takes him only a heartbeat to find the correct angle and distance – there really is not much that he would like to improve about his motive – and he snaps a picture quickly, only sparing a quick glance on the result before he slides the phone back into his pocket and far away from the doctor’s prying eyes.

He is going to have a hard time not to make that his new lock screen, he already knows it.

His phone is barely in his pocket when Robotnik spots him, immediately zeroing in on him somehow despite the crowd around them. “There you are,” imperiously, the older man wiggles his fingers at him in a gimme gesture. “Coffee.”

Stone hands it over readily, together with two of the wrapped-up crepes.

There is a beat where it looks like Robotnik will simply ignore the offered treat and only go for the drink, but then he takes it, holding it between his fingertips the way someone would a potential poisonous thing. He examines the fluffy dough with clear derision. “Another one of your silly ploys to get me to eat healthy, Stone?”

“Only if you consider rotting your teeth with sugar to be healthy,” Stone answers amicably, biting back a smirk when Robotnik is unable to hold back the amused snort. He doesn’t mention that he bought this in light of the doctor having skipped breakfast again, or that he is also well aware of the man’s badly hidden sweet tooth. He very nearly does grin triumphantly though when Robotnik takes a careful bite out of the pastry and his shoulders relax in a very telling way.

Slipping into the chair opposite of the doctor, Stone takes a bite of his own crepe. It’s good, but he only notes it absentmindedly while he inquires, “Anything interesting happen while I was gone?”

“Interesting? Here?” Robotnik snarks around another big bite of dough and jam, gesturing with his free hand around them in a way that could mean the cafe, the street, or the whole entirety of Paris.

“Nothing escapes your notice,” Stone answers easily, undeterred. “I’m sure you could analyze the whole life of anyone who just happens to walk by based on something small like their body language or the way they tie their shoes, or something.”

“Or something,” the mockery is not as thick in the words as it could be, softened by the way Robotnik seems actually amused by his statement. “Eloquent as always. And of course, I could, but why would I want to? These people are boring.” 

“For entertainment, of course. Get a kick out of making fun of their boring lives in the most scathing way possible.”

Robotnik tilts his head slightly, a wicked gleam entering his eyes. “Would that be entertainment for me, or for you?”

Stone grins, unrepentant. He never made a secret out of the fact that he enjoys watching the doctor tear into people; he is not going to start pretending now. “Both.”

The gleam spreads, crinkling the doctor’s eyes and flooding his face with amusement until he can no longer hide his own grin or the deep, rumbling chuckle it tickles out of him. It is an honest sound, calmer and more sincere than his usual cackle of a laugh, and Stone preens at being the cause of it.

“Fine. Let’s see.” Leaning back in his chair, relaxing visibly, Robotnik tilts his head in a way that allows him to inconspicuously let his gaze stray over the street next to them. After a beat of searching, he juts his chin slightly to the left, gesturing without being obvious about it. “See that couple over there? Caucasian, barely out of puberty, awfully giggly in a way that should be banned from this world.”

Stone glances over from the corner of his eyes, clocking in on the pair despite the generic description easily. He doubts they would have noticed even if the two of them had been staring at them quite openly; they are too busy making eyes at each other, and, yes, giggling a lot. Apart from the overly showy display, they seem rather plain to him, but then he is no genius mastermind with terrifying analytical skills. “What about them?”

“They have been so busy making eyes at each other that they have yet to notice the fact that his wallet was stolen right out of his back-pocket five minutes ago.”

A beat, before the realization sinks in, and Stone has to bite back a much too loud laugh. “No way.”

“Yes way.”

“You just watched that happen, didn’t you? Without doing anything about it.”

“Of course I did.” Despite his eye roll, Robotnik manages to look awfully pleased with himself. “What did you expect me to do, shout for the police?”

No, not really. Not even if they were not wanted criminals at the moment. Way more amused than he should have been, Stone shakes his head, feeling awfully fond of the terrible man sitting across from him. “Any other crimes you just happened to oversee?”

“Half a dozen in my opinion, but the other brainless members of humanity would probably consider those simply quirks instead of crimes.”

“Tell me about some of them.”

The doctor lifts an eyebrow at him – a tease or a reprimand or both, for Stone’s obvious interest. But Stone ignores it, grinning openly and gesturing at the other in an inviting gesture. He knows he got him when Robotnik snorts loudly and... yes, actually does as Stone asked, gaze wandering out to search for his next victim, eyes jumping quick and agile until he zeroes in a potential victim and a smirk tugs at his lips. He leans in again then, drawing Stone closer with a beckon of his finger to make him his captive audience, and starts talking. And Stone lets him, less focused on the strangers they are talking about and more on watching Robotnik come to life as he speaks, hands moving as he explains, eyes sparkling with malicious glee.

Stone couldn’t care less what exactly they are talking about; he is simply glad to see the doctor look so happy for the first time in quite a while.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ S ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first stop on their trip had seemed like a great success to Stone. Robotnik had flourished, talking and talking while mechanically eating three of the crepes and downing his coffee, and he had neither commented on the lacking quality of the beverage, nor on the fact that the set time of an hour had already passed by the time Stone had proposed to continue walking to their next destination.

So maybe Stone had been a little high on his success, and thus too optimistic for the rest of their day. He is cured quickly enough of it, however, when they reach the Louvre, their next stop on his list, and there is a sizable crowd gathered in front of the entrance already.

Stone's shoulders sag at the sight, the smile lingering in the corner of his mouth since back at the cafe dimming significantly.

"What?" Robotnik, with his arm still linked around Stone's, clocks on immediately to his shift in mood and jostles him lightly.

"I was hoping there wouldn't be quite that many visitors this early."

"Don't tell me you dragged us here without having tickets preordered." When Stone only shakes his head No, Robotnik scoffs loudly, showing no sympathy at all when he surmises, “Bad planning on your part, Stone. This is a veritable tourist trap, during peak season. Of course, it would be overrun with these mindless cretins. Really now, you usually think further ahead than this."

How could I have planned this? I couldn’t have known I would actually manage to get you outside of the hotel room, Stone does not say. It would be a weak excuse, anyway. He is usually much more diligent than this, planning for several possibilities ahead of time. To be caught out by something so easily predictable is entirely his own fault. He bites back a disappointed sigh and tilts the last of his crepe just so that the doctor can reach it more easily in order to pluck up the last strawberry. “You’re right, of course. Oh, well. Another time, perhaps.”

He thinks he made it sound casual enough, but when he looks over, the doctor is once again pinning him down with a calculating look while licking residues of sugar off his fingertips. “You’re actually disappointed, aren’t you?”

There is not much sense in trying to lie to such a perceptive man, especially when said man knows him so well. So Stone shrugs and answers honestly. “Well, yes. Always thought the Louvre is something I simply have to see once I manage to get to Paris.”

Not that he ever really considered this a possibility. His job used to include a lot of traveling, yes, but it was work nonetheless. Wasn’t like he could just walk away on the clock to go see a dubbed ‘tourist trap’. So this had seemed like a one-time chance, to him. So, yes. He is disappointed.

“We will probably be stuck in this place for a while,” Robotnik says abruptly, drawing Stone from his musings. “You might just get your chance, after all.”

It is said stiffly, almost sounds a little uncomfortable, and Stone blinks, turning it over in his head before smiling slowly. "That is...comforting to hear, doctor."

He knows he hit the nail on the head when Robotnik sniffs derisively and pays closer attention to his sugar-coated fingers than is strictly necessary. "I don't see how, since this place is not all that great anyway. Most of the so-called art has been replaced with cheap copies by now, I bet."

"That might sound a little more depressing than your first statement," Stone nods, immensely amused. "But it is still oddly comforting."

Robotnik glances at him from the corner of his eyes, notes the former agent's grin, and catches on that he is currently being teased immediately. His lips curl into a sneer and he leans over just so that he can jab his elbow into Stone's ribs without making it too obvious. "Cocky barnacle."

Stone only laughs, letting the sound spill free now that he has been caught, and curls away from the worst of the impact. It doesn't really hurt. "Sorry, sorry. It was really nice of you to try and-..."

"If you say comfort one more time, I'm shoving this cane into one of your orifices, Stone."

"...be reasonable." Stone finishes eyes dancing. "I was going to say reasonable."

Finally Robotnik lets himself huff a bark of laughter as well and leans in, smirk in place despite his faked glower. "We both know that is not what you were going to say."

"Nice theory," Stone dares to say, buoyed by amusement and fondness. "You can't really prove it, though."

Something flashes through Robotnik's eyes than, amusement and something else, and Stone is suddenly very interested to hear what the doctor will counter his brazen statement with.

He never gets to find out, though, since a heavily accented voice speaks up from behind them right then, "Excuse-moi?"

They both blink in surprise and turn to the speaker, Robotnik drawing himself up to his full height once more. Stone is surprised to find an elderly couple in front of them, smiling amicably at the two of them. The cameras hanging from straps around their necks identify them as tourists. Asian ethnicity, perhaps, he wonders distantly.

Now that they are sure of their attention, the husband smiles wider, starting in his heavy accent once more, "We would like to ask, how they say, ah-..."

His wife smiles, reaching over to squeeze his hand and say something to him in a language Stone does not understand.

He is sure the doctor does though, since Robotnik makes a sound of recognition in the back of his throat and speaks in the same language, quick and fluent. Chinese, Stone wonders, or Japanese? He really ought to pick up more languages, considering how many Robotnik speaks.

Whatever the doctor said, it seems to have been the right thing. The elderly couple looks briefly surprised before they beam, and the man starts talking back at Robotnik, fast and eager, hands moving excitedly while he explains. He is saying something about them, Stone realizes, keeps pointing at him and Robotnik decisively. Stone cannot understand a lick of what is being said, but he knows Robotnik can; even if he hadn't heard him answer perfectly fluently only seconds ago, he would have been able to tell in the way Robotnik’s spine suddenly straightens, muscles under Stone’s hand going rigid with tension.

Worried, Stone tightens his grip ever so slightly, enough to give a hopefully reassuring squeeze while he murmurs out of the corner of his mouth, “What’s wrong?”

He highly doubts that the elderly couple is in any way dangerous, but if they had happened to say anything rude towards Robotnik…

“Nothing wrong perse,” Robotnik answers, only slightly louder than Stone. He sounds… surprised? “They are asking if we would be alright with having a picture taken of us.”

“A… photo?” Stone repeats the words slowly, sure he has misunderstood somehow, but Robotnik only nods. “Why?”

The doctor’s jaws work quietly, as if he is actually chewing on the words before spitting them out. “Apparently, we make for a nice couple.”

Huh. Stone is still terribly confused, but more because he never would never have gone and asked complete strangers if he could take a picture of them. But he is not most people, he supposes, directing a halfhearted smile at the elderly couple, who veritably beam at him in turn. The request seems innocent enough, even if a little weird. But in their current situation…

Squeezing Robotnik’s arm lightly, he draws the genius’ attention again and, once the taller man leans in to listen, continues speaking in a lowered voice, “I usually wouldn’t mind, but I’m not sure if having our photo taken is keeping in line with the whole laying low part of this trip. Who knows who might get to see it after all. Can you tell them we would rather not? Nicely, I mean.”

A jolt goes through Robotnik, a strange little twitch somewhere between a head tilt and almost rearing back in surprise. “You wouldn’t?”

“Wouldn’t what?” Stone blinks rapidly, replaying the conversation in his mind until it clicks. “If I would mind having a picture taken? No, why would I?”

“A nice couple,” Robotnik intones in a way that has Stone guessing he would be making air quotes with his fingers if he had his hands free right now. “Surely you know there are implications to that statement, Stone.”

Probably there are, but whatever the implications, Stone finds he doesn’t mind. Couple, no matter how it is meant, means Robotnik and Stone, together, and that’s a good thing in his book in any way. So, the former agent shrugs, and replies with absolute sincerity, “Well, to me, it sounded like a compliment.”

Next to him, Robotnik goes eerily quiet - which, from a man who is always moving, always talking, is downright scary. Stone bears it only for a few beats before he clears his throat uneasily, wondering if he said something horribly wrong just now. He doesn't quite dare to ask if he did. "Uh. Doctor? They are still waiting for an answer."

"Hm? Ah." Robotnik blinks, resurfacing from whatever deep thoughts he had been buried in. Almost mechanically, he turns around to the waiting couple and says something to them, stiff and quick. Despite the curt tone, it does not seem like he has been impolite, since the elderly couple beams and nods at the both of them, bowing lightly before turning and continuing on their merry way.

Which leaves Stone with Robotnik, who still seems oddly far away.

Stone hesitates, wondering if he should address what had just happened, or rather continue on as if nothing had happened at all. The later seems to be what the doctor would go for, but it does not sit well with the former agent. So he settles on a middle ground; carefully, he slips his arm back through Robotnik's, watching closely to any negative reaction to it. When none comes, he asks carefully, "Are you alright?"

Finally, finally, Robotnik jolts lightly, looking back over at Stone as if he had forgotten that the other is there. "Mh? Yes," while he speaks, Robotnik seems to find his footing again, thoughtful gaze slipping back behind a facade of haughtiness. "Of course I am alright, why wouldn't I be?"

"Right," Stone agrees lightly, even though his mind is still racing. He tucks the events back into the furthest corner of his mind, to be analyzed at a later date. "Shall we go? There is still one more stop to the trip."

It is a little worrisome, how easily Robotnik nods and complies, following him without even questioning where they would go.

Stone really, really wonders what had just transpired between them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ S ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time they reach their last destination of the day, Robotnik seems to be back to his scathing old self. He takes one look at the huge building looming over them and immediately scoffs, turning to Stone with an almost pitying look. "Closed to the public, it says here. Another thing you forgot to plan for, Stone?"

“Oh, no, I knew that,” Stone answers, not letting the hit hurt his feelings. He looks up and up, feeling awed at the sight of Notre Dame de Paris right in front of them. It is much larger than he imagined, he finds, and no less impressive for the burn marks marring it. He says as much, explaining lightly   “I figured it would be still quite the sight even from a safe distance away.”

And it is, he finds; the building might be partly destroyed and in the middle of rebuilding, but that doesn’t make it less impressive where it towers far above them, old and solemn. And maybe Robotnik even agrees a little, since he does not make any further digs and only hums a sound of almost-agreement.

Stone lowers his gaze to the page on his phone he has opened on the way here and scrolls through the article, relaying what he finds. “Apparently, reconstructing works have already started a year ago or so, but it will likely take a lot longer until it is back to the way it once was.”

“It never will be the way it once was,” Robotnik interrupts him, surprising the agent with how much genuine annoyance there is in his voice. “Such is the nature of rebuilding something while lacking the tools and knowledge the original creator possessed. They will try to come close, but it won’t be the same.”

It is oddly passionate for something Stone had anticipated the doctor would only have a scoff for, and the agent blinks, looking between Robotnik and the age-old building with a sense of understanding. “You’re… are you interested in architecture?”

“Humans building something from the ground up, something that they should by all means not be capable off, which is way ahead of their time, and which is viewed with awe for centuries to come?” Robotnik sounds almost bored while he rattles off the impromptu speech; only Stone’s trained ears manage to catch the way his words are a tiny bit faster than usual, signaling true interest in the topic. “Of course I would have at least a basic interest in something like that. I might consider humanity as a whole as a species of hungry monkeys, but from time to time, I do look at some of their achievements and actually consider the individuals who made it possible a little more fondly than the rest of the lot.”

Stone’s surprise barely lessens, but he has to admit that it kind of makes sense. Suddenly, he finds himself wondering when Robotnik really had time to look into architecture; into anything at all, really. He has only ever seen him focused on his work, tinkering with inventions, thinking up plans, and all of it on a hellish schedule which left little time for sleeping or eating. When did the doctor have time for something which comes dangerously close to a hobby? And if there is one, then are there maybe more such special interests?  Stone is tempted to ask, but even as he opens his mouth to do just that, he reconsiders. It is surprising enough that Robotnik had shared this much with him; it is likely any further prodding into something so personal would only serve to annoy the doctor and cut their trip short.

Also, Stone muses while he watches Robotnik look up the facade of the building, expression more relaxed than it had been all day, this might be the first time since they had set foot into the city that the doctor actually seems to be enjoying himself a little bit without Stone having to prompt it. He would not interrupt this for the world, no matter how curious he is.

“We might not be able to get inside, but it is still pretty awe inspiring even from outside,” he says instead, not looking at the building at all, but rather at the man next to him.

“Quite,” Robotnik agrees absentmindedly; probably the closest he has ever gotten to complimenting another's work.

He seems so occupied and at ease for the moment, Stone is loath to draw him away. Instead, the former agent lets his gaze wander, over the crowd milling about and to the shops close by. A certain storefront catches his interest and he pauses, considering the pros and cons, before he says purposely offhandedly, “Doctor, will you be alright for five minutes? I will be right back…”

Robotnik does not even acknowledge him, still engrossed in the sight of the old architecture. Stone rubs a hand over his beard to hide a smile, just in case, and ducks away over to the shop that caught his interest.

Stone enters the shop without looking left or right, aiming straight for the nearest counter and the clerk behind it. He is a man on a mission; he knows exactly what he is looking for.

 The vendor, a middle-aged man with a certain pose about him, seems a little surprised when Stone presents him with an incredibly detailed order right down to the exact measurements, but he is also happy to help, clearly recognizing a good customer when he sees one. It does not even take five minutes for him to procure pretty much exactly what Stone had been looking for, and Stone only briefly tries it on before deciding that, yes, this is it. It's perfect. Pricey, yes, but for this, he does not mind spending his hard-earned money on.

Not even ten minutes after entering the little shop, Stone leaves it again with his wallet a lot lighter and a shopping bag tucked under his arm. He spots Robotnik at first glance in the same place he had left him, and steers over.

"Seven minutes and forty-two seconds," Robotnik points out without turning, somehow sensing his approach before Stone is even in his line of sight. "Not the five minutes you asked for."

"A miscalculation," Stone agrees, not even bothering to put on a serious face. "Did you memorize the entire building yet?"

Robotnik snorts, tilting his head slightly to look at him for the first time, mouth already opening for a comeback. It gets lost, however, when his gaze lands on the bag under Stone's arm and his interest is piqued. "What’s this, then?'"

Shifting the package slightly so it can't be looked into, Stone simply smiles, having already seen this coming. "A souvenir."

The term seems to throw Robotnik off, and his focus is, thankfully, ripped away from the package and back to Stone when he scoffs. "A souvenir? That is for plebeians and, worse, tourists."

"We are tourists right now," Stone points out patiently, biting back a grin when it earns him an impressive eye-roll. "And I wanted something to remind me of this day."

"You really are a romantic, aren't you." Robotnik says it with a kind of horror rarely heard from him; clearly faked, since he still allows Stone to take his arm once more and lets himself be led away from Paris' Dame and back toward the riverbank of the Seine to continue their leisurely stroll.  "It's worse than I thought."

"You got me," Stone agrees, biting his lip to keep from grinning openly. "Please don't fire me for it."

"I am seriously considering it right now, sycophant. Change my mind."

"Well, I was going to treat you to lunch..."

"You always pay for lunch anyway, no matter what I say. How is that helping you keep your job?"

"Oh, well. It doesn't." He pretends to only now realize it, then shrugs. "I will put in my resignation first thing tomorrow."

Robotnik's horrified facade shatters when he barks out a surprised laugh, angling over to jab his elbow into Stone's side once more. "Don't you dare."

Stone laughs out loud now, opening his mouth to say something - to reassure, or to tease further, he is not sure yet.

He never gets to make up his mind about it, however. The small part of him which is always on the lookout, always aware of his surroundings, gives a faint twinge in the back of his mind and he glances over his shoulder just in time to see two young men on roller skates coming rushing toward them at high-speed, laughing and not looking where they are going. At this rate, they are going to collide with them full force.

 Reflex kicks in and Stone moves without thinking, pushing Robotnik to the right at the same time he says "Watch out!". A bad move, he realizes the moment he does it, since the right side is where Robotnik's bad leg is, and the doctor is not prepared for the sudden movement. At Stone's push he stumbles to the side, perplexed, and lands with his entire weight on his broken leg. As if in slow motion, Stone watches it happen; hears the sound of the doctor's foot landing, sees the surprise on the other man's face be replaced with pain, twisting his features into a pained snarl. A bitten-off shout resonates behind clenched teeth and Robotnik doubles forward, convulsing in pain. All Stone can do is grab onto both of the man's arms to stabilize him, shock and guilt curling in his stomach. "Doctor! I'm sorry, are you-..."

A dull growl from Robotnik cuts his useless question off, leaving Stone to helplessly watch while Robotnik takes a few deep breaths through clenched teeth, fighting back the pain.

Somewhere behind them, the roller skaters rush past, calling something over their shoulders that could have been an apology or something else entirely. Stone does not care, he is fully focused on the man in front of him.

The entire event had taken less than a minute, but the damage is done, the good mood from before ruined; Stone can see the annoyance fester and turn to rage clear as day on Robotnik's face, and his heart sinks as he realizes what is about to happen.

And true enough, once Robotnik's breathing ease, he straightens abruptly, letting go of Stone to rear up to his full height. His expression resembles a thundercloud of fury, and as soon as he is standing upright again, the doctor bursts into a slew of insults, spit out in a barrage of different languages, getting progressively louder as he goes on. The first few sentences are incomprehensible to Stone, barked out in languages he does not understand, but even then he can take a fairly good guess what it is all about. And true enough, his suspicions are confirmed once Robotnik deigns it time to switch back into English.

"... crawling with brainless wastes of spaces who dare to call themselves human beings." Robotnik rips of his scarf while he keeps thundering to no one in particular, shoving the piece of cloth into his pocket with enough force that there's an audible tearing sound. "Monkeys, wherever you look, and I have to deal with it. How I let you convince me to expose myself to this congregation of humanity's lowest, I will never know. Clearly, there are more lasting effects to my mind from that crash than I thought!"

The last bit is shouted more than said, and for once, Stone actually finds himself flinching under the doctor's anger. Oh, he is used to the insults and the derision; years of working so close together have taught him to look closer, and to see when Robotnik actually means to hurt someone, and when the harsh words are only a habit, or a defensive mechanism. The real insults are very, very rarely aimed at Stone directly, a thing he has always been proud of.

But this time, despite the fact that he had heard much worse from Robotnik, the anger cuts deep. Because for a little while there, he had actually started to believe the doctor could start to enjoy this time spent together.

Clearly, he had been wrong about that.

A sigh slips out before he can help it, and Stone shakes his head. Maybe this had not been a good idea, after all. Robotnik is still going om, quieter now but no less fierce, vut the former agent does not really need to hear it anymore. “Let’s go back.”

Robotnik staggers in his rant, piercing gaze snapping towards his agent. “What?”

“Let’s go back to the hotel. This was clearly a mistake,”

For once  Robotnik actually seems, dare he say it, dumbstruck, tilting his head while he considers Stone like one would a particularly vexing puzzle. “You want to leave? This was your idea.”

Again pinning it all on Stone. Usually, it would bounce right off him, but not this time; this time, he feels his hackles rise, frustration and disappointment converging and breaking out of him before he can stop it. Much harsher than he means to, the former agent snaps, “I know. I know, alright? My bad.”

There is actually a moment where Robotnik seems struck speechless by his clear frustration, and somehow, that actual flicker of surprise on the doctor’s face makes Stone deflate a little, ashamed of his own outburst. It is not like he is angry at the doctor, after all; he is angrier at himself for thinking this could work.  Much gentler, he adds, “I’m sorry. I really meant to relax you a little with this trip, but I only achieved the opposite. Just… let’s go back, alright? I’m sorry.”

Surprisingly enough, Robotnik does not immediately jump at the opportunity to cut their trip short. He stays silent for a long time, expression unreadable thanks to his glasses.

It doesn’t really matter; Stone does not need to hear him say how much he despised this day out loud to know it. Shifting the shopping bag on his arm so he can carry it more comfortably while supporting his boss, Stone suddenly finds himself thinking might as well, and holds out the bag for Robotnik to take. “Here.”

That seems to rip Robotnik out of whatever paralysis he had fallen into; he takes it mechanically, gaze lingering on Stone for another beat before it drops down to peer into the bag. “What is this?”

“I got them for you,” Stone says, not bothering to explain the contents because Robotnik, always the impatient one, is already digging into the bag and unearthing it himself. The agent had decided not have to them wrapped back in the shop, knowing that would have been too sentimental for the doctor to accept, so Robotnik comes back up with a pair of brand-new black leather gloves in his hands. He turns them over slowly, this way and that, but does not say anything.

Great. More silence. it is kind of grating on Stone’s nerves, because silence never means anything good with the doctor. So he decides to fill it himself, even if he risks annoying the other with it. Better have Robotnik snap at him and give the gloves back, get this over it, than continue to awkwardly stand around in the middle of the street. “I’m aware they are ordinary, and don’t measure up to your control gloves in any way. But you…” seemed to miss them, “certainly have to be more used to wearing gloves than not, so. I figured these could be a substitute for the time being.”

Still nothing. Robotnik has at least stopped turning the gloves around as if searching for a hidden catch to them, but he is still staring, and staying eerily quiet.

Patience already worn threadbare by his own frustration, Stone, for once, does not feel like playing the waiting game. Biting back an annoyed sound, he reaches out. "Look, it was just - a thought. If you don't like them, I will go and return them-..."

Before he reaches the cloth, however, Robotnik suddenly moves, quick as lightning, and holds the gloves well out of his reach. While Stone is still blinking in surprise, Robotnik wags one finger at him around the gloves and tuts. “A present is a present, Stone. Owner’s keepers, losers’ weepers.”

Well. At least he seems to find the gloves agreeable. It does little to soothe Stone, who by now only wants to return to the hotel room and let this day be over. "Alright, good. Shall we go then-..."

“Sit down,”

“… Excuse me?”

“Sit. Down.” Robotnik pronounces every single syllable so slow and measured that it is clear how much of an idiot he currently thinks him. To further make his point, he jerks his chin towards to a nearby bench with view of the Seine below them. “Over there.”

“I-… why?”

“Oh for the love of-…” finally, Robotnik seems to lose his patience with him. He swings his cane forward against Stone’s shin, not hard enough to actually hurt, but it certainly functions as a warning. Especially when he adds sharper, “I will not be begging, Stone.”

That finally has Stone jolt into action, because the wording makes it startlingly clear that this had not been a command he is being given, but a request. Which is surprising and rare enough that he simply needs to know what will happen if he does as he is told. Moving mechanically, he links his arm with Robotnik's once more and steers the both of them over to the indicated bench, helping first the doctor sit down, then easing himself down next to him.

Like this, they have an excellent view of the Seine flowing below them. The water is twinkling in the early afternoon sun, and a light breeze is ensuring a comfortable temperature. Neither of them starts talking immediately. Stone does not know what they should be talking about in the first place, and Robotnik makes no move to breech the subject; he is still preoccupied with the gloves. He turns them in his hands a few more times before straightening and starting to slip them on.

They slide on easily and fit snugly, the way Stone had hoped; the leather is buttery soft yet sturdy, the material made for breathing so the wearer would stay warm without overheating. Perhaps he ought to tell Robotnik all that, but currently he does not feel like it. So he stays quiet, and waits for the doctor to speak first.

“You got my measurements right,” Robotnik says after what could have been minutes or an eternity. He is still not looking at him.

“I pay attention to details,” Stone answers. It is not a lie per se, just not the entire truth. The truth would be that he had spent nearly eight months wearing gloves which were not made for him, and he had memorized each little bump, every single spot where the cloth sat too lose on his own shorter fingers, all the while wishing the rightful owner of the gloves would finally come home and demand them back.

Saying only a half-truth seems so much safer.

Robotnik keeps playing with the gloves for a while longer, gaze far away while his fingers move over the leather in a slow mimicry of his usual snapping and clicking. Suddenly he straightens, clacking his tongue. “Stone.”

“Doctor?”

“I find myself presented with a conundrum which I cannot seem to solve.” The new leather creaks quietly when Robotnik laces his fingers together so tightly it has to hurt. “Which is a rarity in and off itself, as you well know, and so not something I have a lot of experience in dealing with.”

With how well-acquainted Stone is by now to the doctor’s different moods and style of talking, his mind helpfully translates for him: I’m at a loss here.

It’s already huge that Robotnik is even sharing this much with him, and Stone smiles slowly, hoping it will convey how much he appreciates it. If the huff from the other man is anything to go by, the message is received.

“Well,” Stone shifts, making himself more comfortable now that he is sure this talk is not about something he has done wrong. “Maybe try describing the problem to me? Sometimes laying it all out already helps to gain a new perspective.”

Another long silence follows, but it is more comfortable now. Stone knows how to be patient while Robotnik is thinking deeply, and Robotnik, while deep in thought, seems calmer now; A bit more on familiar ground, maybe.

"I want revenge," Robotnik settles on finally, simply. His gloves creak again while he hunches over, wringing his hands together as if he is strangling an invincible foe, crumpling their very existence between his palms as he spits, "I want penance for everything that hedgehog and his little friends have done to me.  What I want, more than even world dominance, is to squash them. Grind them to dust under my heel, kick it up, and laugh when it’s scattered to the winds. Half of my mind is continuously busy trying to come up with plans to make that dream a reality.”

Stone nods readily enough, not at all surprised to hear it. He had already suspected something like this was going on in the doctor’s mind; after all the hedgehog and his companions had bested the doctor not once, but twice by now. For a man who never had to deal with any significant losses before, something like that would be incredibly personal.

The thing is... he doesn’t really see a conundrum here? It seems straightforward enough.

Maybe his confusion is palpable, or maybe Robotnik would have gone on explaining either way. Whatever the case, the doctor makes a sound in the back of his throat which is very close to a growl and suddenly throws his hands up in a gesture of frustration, letting himself all but flop backwards while he grinds out, stilted as if every single word pains him to admit,  “The other half of my mind seems to be frustratingly occupied with… enjoying… all this.”

The doctor spits the word enjoying out with so much vitriol, it takes Stone a moment to actually register the meaning of the word because it is the polar opposite of the tone it has been said in. He probably only really understands what Robotnik is saying because of the hand gesture that goes with the sentence, a lavish wave at the two of them and everything around them.

When he catches on, he finds his jaw dropping astonishment. “You are?”

The entire time they had been here in Paris, he had believed Robotnik was hating every second of their stay, was feeling trapped because he had to stay hidden and could not go about his usual work as he would like. To hear that he had been wrong triggers a strange mixture of conflicting emotions in Stone – on one hand, worry because the doctor seems to be put out by his own enjoyment of their trip, and on the other hand, blinding joy that his boss (partner? Friend?) was actually getting something out of this, as well. He really cannot help the smile which finds its way on his face against all his efforts.

Of course, Robotnik catches it immediately, and glowers over the rim of his sunglasses at him. “Stop grinning like a loon, Stone, there is nothing to be happy about when I’m distracted.”

“Sorry, doctor.” Stone rubs a hand over his face, using the movement to hide his smile. "Please, continue.”

“Hm. The point is - I should be fully focused on planning my revenge,” clearly agitated, the doctor’s hand gestures get choppier as he talks, words faster, although no less precise for it. “Fully focused on the goal right in front of me, but no matter how hard I try, I find myself spacing. It’s making every step of the process frustratingly slow, and the continued setbacks are irritating me even more than this leg is.”

A haphazard gesture towards the broken limb, so dismissive as if he would like to simply get rid of it. The limb, brazenly, does not simply heal on the spot under the dark glower it is being given, and Robotnik gets even more annoyed by it, throwing his hands while he snaps, “How do you ordinary people deal with this? How do you get anything done?”

It takes Stone another beat or two to catch that the question is not simply a rhetoric one, or the usual insult of the mental capabilities of ordinary people, but rather, an actual question. For the second time in under five minutes, the former agent nearly finds himself gaping at the other man. The doctor actually outright – pretty much, at least – asking for his opinion happens rarely enough, and this is a rather huge case at that. He is all but putting the choice of their next steps in Stone’s hands right now.

This is a delicate matter indeed, and Stone finds himself thinking very carefully about what to say, and how to say it. “Well,” he starts slowly, picking every word with a care as if he is diffusing a bomb about to explode. Which, considering who he is talking to, is not that far off. “There is of course the option of trying to ignore the distraction and simply focus on the work…”

“How do they say nowadays – been there, done that,” Robotnik scoffs. “At least try to be helpful, Stone.”

“… or sometimes, when one can’t stop being distracted, then,” Stone continues without even blinking at the interruption. “It could mean that it is time for a break.”

Predictably, Robotnik bares his teeth in a snarl at the mere suggestion, mouthing “break” with an expression as if it leaves a vile taste in his mouth.

“Even short breaks can prove beneficial.” Stone adds patiently, hoping his own nerves don’t show on his face. This could go either way, now – either he will do the impossible and be convincing enough, or it will blow up in his face. “They give time to recharge. Gather resources. And afterwards, you often have a wholly different outlook on the work at hand when you get back to it.”

He pauses, then, glancing over to gauge Robotnik's reaction. Not much, but the man seems to at least still be listening. That's a start.

Deciding to go all in, Stone clears his throat. “If I can be frank, doctor?”

It is almost a relief when Robotnik releases a sound somewhere between a huff and a bitten-off laugh, and tilts his head at him in a barely there nod. “When are you ever not? Funny that you think to ask first for once. But go ahead. Be frank.”

“From where I’m standing” he gestures at Robotnik's leg, then at all of him. A bold move, he knows, to point out a weakness of the genius, but this time, it seems warranted. "You would not be able to work at full capacity for the time being, anyway. No matter how much you hate it, your body needs rest, and apparently, so does your mind. If there ever was a good time for a break, it might as well be now.”

Stone trails off then, having said what he wanted to say. Robotnik still seems to be mulling everything over which he had just said, and Stone can only wonder what is going on in that genius mind right now, how many plans are being plotted, simulated, vetted and rejected in record time, fast as heartbeats. He cannot even fathom what solution the doctor will come to, in the end. It could very well be that he loses his temper completely and sets about throwing Stone into the river below them for his impertinence of even suggesting a break.

Stone would probably let him, if that would help him feel better, but he really hopes it doesn’t come to that. It is nice sitting here, and an unwanted swim would ruin the peace entirely.

He is pulled out of his musings of unwanted diving when Robotnik hums next to him, thoughtful and considering, and starts moving. A little alarmed, Stone looks up, ready to jump to his feet and help the doctor up should he want to leave – but then, Robotnik simply shifts and. Lifts his injured leg with both hands in order to lay it across over Stone’s lab.

It is less that Stone freezes and more that he just stops working entirely. He stops moving, stops thinking, stops breathing for a little bit before his mind jump starts and races in circle to try and make sense of what just happened. Physical contact initiated by Robotnik is usually either so small one could miss it if he isn’t careful, or it is on the violent side of things. It is never – this. Whatever this is.

Next to him, Robotnik seems to have little to no problem to adjust to the new situation they find themselves in. He shuffles around to get comfortable, shifting left and right, throws his arm over the backrest of the bench and tips his head back. “I do not do breaks.” He speaks more to the sky above them than to Stone’s face. “So do not expect me to go about the process the same way some ordinary fool with too much time on their hands would.”

“Of course,” Stone finds himself answering almost on autopilot. He might still be reeling from the sudden turn of events, but answering and reassuring the doctor is second nature to him by now, he can basically do it in his sleep. “There are no rules for the correct break.”

“But expectations.” It is said in a tone which heavily implies they are talking about Stone’s expectations right now.

“None,” Stone answers readily, maybe a little too fast. It is entirely true. He had never even dreamed of getting this far. He feels like laughing, but perhaps that would be pushing it. “There can’t be expectations for the unexpected.”

Robotnik makes a sound that is half hum, half scoff, clearly not fully convinced - but he is considering letting himself be convinced, Stone realizes with wonder. He is letting himself be talked into this, putting up very feeble resistances.

“I will not sit around uselessly, doing nothing,” Robotnik warns, not as sharply as he could have. “As soon as I get bored, the break is over, and no second tries.”   

“We will find something to occupy you.” Stone hurries to assure him, mind already racing to set up a plan for just that. “Taking a break doesn’t mean you cannot still invent and build. But, maybe on a smaller scale. And no fixed time schedules – or not too strict ones, at least.”

A scoff. “Next thing you know, you will tell me I have to eat and sleep regularly.”

“You’re saying that as if I haven’t told you that for years now.”

“Then you know my answer already." Robotnik waves one finger under Stone's nose, close enough to nearly make the former agent go cross-eyed. "You got one miracle today, Stone; don’t expect any more.”

“Certainly, doctor.” He is not even disappointed to hear it. He is already getting much more here than ever dreamed off. Hoping for any more would just be crazy.

They settle into silence then, comfortable and nice. Stone dares to carefully cup one palm over Robotnik's ankle still resting in his lap, and allows himself to relax when he is not immediately shrugged off. He even dares to close his eyes a little, letting himself just be for a bit.

After a few slow minutes Stone becomes aware of something tugging at his sleeve. When he looks over, Robotnik is rolling the edge of the cloth between his fingertips, something contemplative in his expression.

Stone lets him, faintly amused while he watches the almost absentminded fiddling with the hem with mild interest. “Is my casual outfit really bothering you that much?”

An annoyed little sound comes from the doctor, his fingers pinching, briefly, the skin under the cloth. “I already said I don't care what you wear. I don’t prefer any outfit over the other.”

“But you keep focusing on-…”

“The suit was bulletproof, at least,” Robotnik interrupts, not really looking at him as he throws it out. 

Slowly blinking, Stone dissects that statement – because there has to be more than one layer to it; it would be too easy, otherwise, and Robotnik is many things but he is not easy.  At rapid speed, seemingly independent little tidbits start to fall together into a bigger picture - the interest which Robotnik suddenly shows in his garment, his earlier thought that the doctor’s outfits serve as armor, and now, this.

Protection, he realizes, a peculiar warm curling behind his breastbone. This isn’t a matter of looks, this is a matter of safety. Robotnik worries about Stone. It is a strange way to show it, but worry it is, and the former agent is grateful for it all the same.

“I’m sure you could invent bulletproof shirts, if you just wanted to.” He has to bite back a smile while he says it. “It could be your first project for your vacation.”

The fiddling stops as Robotnik pauses, seeming to consider that. "That will occupy me for half a day, no more."

"Then we will find something else to occupy you." Stone assures. "Together we can figure something out, easily."

"And," a pause, a tilt of the genius’ head as he mulls something over. "Will you be insisting on more of these... trips outside?"

Surprised, Stone blinks, trying to decide what kind of tone he is hearing there. "Only if you would want to."

That does not seem to be what Robotnik expected him to say. He sits up straighter, fingers curling tighter around Stone's sleeve; anchoring him. "You would just give them up?"

"If you're really so against it? Yeah." Stone shrugs. The decision is really easy. "No point to them if you're having a horrible time with it." 

Another long pause follows, before Robotnik suddenly smirks; that one smirk which promises trouble and mayhem, and all around an exciting time for the two of them. Stone is already smiling in anticipation well before the doctor declares, “Stone."

"Yes, doctor?"

"Let’s break into the Louvre.”

It is said almost in passing, with the same ease with which someone would comment on the weather. Despite himself, Stone finds his smile morph into a full-on grin. “We’re not breaking into the Louvre.”

“Why?" Robotnik scoffs, still smirking. "Do you doubt that I could do it?”

“No, I know you could. That’s why I’m saying No.”

“When did you get so boring? You wanted to see it. We go see it.”

It is a crazy suggestion, and from anyone else, he would have been sure it is a joke. Considering who he is talking to, however, Stone is fairly sure Robotnik is entirely serious, and truly suggesting it because Stone had shown interesting in going there. Perhaps Stone is a little crazy, himself, since he is so happy about it. But still. He has to put a stop to this. “I wanted to see it the legal way. We are trying to lay low here.”

“Boring.” Robotnik flaps his hand, using his good leg to kick at Stone's knee. "This talk is not over yet, but let's continue it over lunch. You're paying."

"Of course, doctor," Stone agrees easily, happily. He is sure this talk is going to be continued over lunch. He is also sure that he will have to work hard to keep the genius' brilliant mind occupied during their impromptu vacation so Robotnik will not come up with anything too crazy.

He is very much looking forward to it.