Chapter Text
If you're the sun, I don't wanna be the moon
The moon's too far away from you
I'd rather envelop you in the bluest of skies
If you're the rain, I don't want to be the stormy weather clouds you leap from
When you touch the ground, I'd rather splash with you
[...]
I don't need matching outfits or your keys
Though I would surely like those things
If you want a piece of me, I'll just run to you
'Cause when you're near, rain is gone and skies are clеar
Who needs the sun to shine when you can smile wider than the sky?
Oh, don't say opposites attract
I'd rather fight you over things we both like
Oh, don't make up for what I lack
I don't need a missing piece, just someone at my back
-
"At my back" by Madds Buckley
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ S ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Doctor Ivo Robotnik’s “streaming career”, if one was inclined to call it as such, starts not out if an evil scheme, like a new crowdfunding project. It was not even truly intentional – not that the doctor would admit that he might have "stumbled into something” on accident and very possibly would have bitten anyone daring to suggest as much unless their name was Stone.
No, what gets Robotnik out into the big, bad world wide web is simply spite. Spite, and boredom. Two of the most terrifying driving forces when it came to the genius doctor.
First came boredom.
But hold on now, back up. How could the most brilliant man alive, with world domination as his longterm goal, possibly get bored, you ask?
Well…
After they had officially called the lazy life in France goodbye and made their triumphant return to villainy by acquiring the Crab Mech through… less than official and legal means, Robotnik had imagined that he and Stone would now be firmly back on track to world domination – with some alien hedgehog squashing as a side dish.
But instead, the evil genius found himself faced with the facts of life: He would have to start a lot smaller if he wanted to have any hopes on victory. They might have a (mobile) lab now, but they were still severly lacking in equipment, power and funding. His former “evil empire” as he loved to call it had now been reduced down to the Crab and the few Badniks it carried, the Mini-Nik, and a handful of gadgets Stone had picked up on the side while getting the Crab Mech out of hibernation. The ideas were there, in the form of blueprints and files safely restored into the Crab’s database, but they first had to be made reality again.
Once he had first let that realization sink in, Robotnik had raged; temper exploding in a burst the likes of which neither of them had seen in nearly over a year while he roared with frustration, grabbing whatever was close to hand to hurl it across the Crab’s expanse and shatter it against the wall.
It never hit; Stone had expertly plucked the missile – an empty cup - out of midair and set it down again, before offering out a hand. “Dance break?”
For a few beats which stretched uncomfortably like toffee between them, Robotnik had stared at the other, panting and trembling and just knowing he must have looked like a crazed madman in that very moment.
The only reason his fury had slowly receded had been the fact that Stone was still smiling at him despite it, never backing away.
“Dance break!” He had agreed on a hiss, and taken the offered hand; his anger deflating somewhat when all his posturing only got him a quiet laugh.
The break had helped Robotnik cool down, even when he is still seething over his own miscalculation. Him! Certified genius! Missing something so incredibly important because he was too impatient to even consider it! One day, such a short sightedness could very well spell his own doom.
With no other choice left, he sits back and re-evaluates his priorities. Clearly, world domination would have to be put on hold for now. His first order of business would be to rebuild what he had lost, primarily his personal army; he would need more than just his beloved Badnik babies for this. For that, in turn, they would need the necessary materials, first and foremost, which meant they would need to find a trustworthy source over which to procure those materials, and a steady income to cover the costs.
Pondering that, Robotnik pulls up the webpages he had been using to crowdfund recently, adjusts some variables, and shoots out another oh-so-desperate plea for something or other (a sickly pet this time; the Mini-Nik could count as a pet, right?). That would be the first step of funding done, even though it was slowly getting a bit tedious to do it this way.
As for the materials…
“Stone!” He calls without turning around, editing some more photos with a flick of a finger. “How is that blackmarket shopping trip coming along?”
“I found a very promising deal on the alloy you had suggested as an alternative for our usual,” Stone answers immediately. He is juggling preparing a latte with one hand while typing rapidly on his phone with the other, all while stepping around the Mini-Nik that is excitedly hounding him for playtime. “I was going to meet them in person, but after you-…”
“Explicitly told you No? Called you an idiot for even considering it? Threatened to send a virus that will destroy your bike? All of the above?”
“… yes, that. I am now finishing the deal while staying anyonymous.” That would explain his rapid fire texting, Robotnik acquiesces with a nod. Barely hiding his amusement, Stone finishes off his latest message and puts his phone down. “It will take a little longer this way, but…”
“I will survive,” and so will you, Robotnik does not add. He had already had a hard time to not burst right out with it while he had berated his partner for even considering going out into the field to meet up with suspicious characters whom they knew nothing about. Had his sycophant not learned from their last big mistake?
Well, he had, so no way he is trusting anyone but Stone, ever again. And his barnacle better do the same.
Finishing his own important work in securing funding with a flourish and one wobbly selfie to edit in future attempts, Robotnik turns and claps his hands, already itching to do more of… something. Anything, really. “Did you find anything that I can work with until you finallized that deal?”
“If I manage to finalize it,” Stone reminds him, much too demure. “There are other bidders…”
“Until. Don’t be ridiculous, sycophant, you are already talking circles around them; keep going, and they will pay you money to take the order off of them.” Robotnik does not even skip a beat, not even to indulge the pleased-surprised little smile tugging at the other’s lips. “But until then, I require something to occupy myself with; you and dance breaks are a nice way to do it, but I need something more on top of that.”
Knowing better than taking basically being called “not enough” personal in any way, Stone hums thoughtfully, stepping over to one of the storage spaces hidden in a niche in the wall. “Could you work with that Badnik prototype we got along with the Crab? It looks pretty much gutted but-…”
"That will do!" Robotnik declares as he rushes over and plucks the empty drone out of his partner's hands.
Turning the machine over in his hands, he scans the damages those imbeciles in G.U.N. had done to it, muttering under his breath while he ambles back to the control panel and falls into his chair heavily. "Missing core, the chassis is not as sturdy as those of the newer generations, but I should at least be able to use it as a sort of blueprint for testing..."
"Can I leave you to it?" Stone asks while he follows him, putting down the finished latte on a table in arm's reach. "I was heading out fo groceries but if I can help-..."
"Mhm," Robotnik grumbles something and makes a shooing motion at the other man without looking up. He continues digging through the chassis for a while, pondering pros and cons of possible uses... before he tilts his head and calls out into the depth of thr Crab, "You are not going to that blackmarket deal!"
"Wouldn't dare!" Stone calls back, amusement heavy in his voice, right before the hydraulics groan as the entrance opens for him.
The door closes once more while Robotnik murmurs wouldn't dare, as if, and then swings around in his chair towards the screen above the panel. While the work will occupy his hands and at least a meager ten percent of his brain, that will still leave him with the predominant amount of his loud, ever hungry, never quiet mind which is used to deadlines and near impossibly tall orders, meaning it is trained to multitask. One measly task will not be able to satisfy it. He needs some sort of background activity to stop his mind from running away from him and maintain the optimal focus.
He flicks through the streaming services they have pirated, searching through the telenovelas he has seen and attempting to find one that he hasn't. That, too, is a relatively new development: Binge watching. A habit he had picked up during their trip to Mexico, while preparing for the Crab heist. At first hehad only meant to hate watch some stuff, but then he had stumbled across La Última Pasión one boring night... and before he knew it, he had watched all four existing seasons in one sitting and become deeply invested in the in the schemes between family members, the affairs, betrayals and tearful reconciliation.
It has gone so far that he had even invited Stone to watch with him, only to experience a huge disappointment when his sycophant's gaze had gone unfocused and drifted away during the greatest plottwist that had been built up to over four whole seasons. He had been bored by it, obviously. Disinterested.
Robotnik had never brought the show up to Stone afterward ever again, though he had kept watching it alone.
Shaking off the unpelasant memory, Robotnik flicks to the end of the list, and groans, annoyed. Nothing; every single telenovela which could possibly capture his attention, he has already watched, and Última Pasión’ s new season won't be out for another few weeks.
Nothing for it then. He would have to try out those "live streams" Stone had suggested as an alternative.
Mood already on the lowest point of the day, he switches over to the streaming platform and scrolls through the options with his eyes narrowed contemplatively. The main topics of these... streams, seem to be adolescents playing some kind of video games; a slew of different age groups simply talking sbout various boring topics; and something called "podcasts" which he ignores for the time being. Something to occupy him, hm…
He stops, finger hovering over a stream that is currently live and seems to show some the progress of a small, biped robot being built from scratch. Hmmm. Nothing that is even in the same wheelhouse as his own brilliant work of course, and the title of "Robot building for dummies!" does not exactly seem enticing, but it should be good background noise while he works.
Decision made, Robotnik shrugs, and clicks on the video.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ S ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When the Crab's enteance opens an hour after they had said goodbye and Stone steps back into their home with groceries under his arm, it is to the sound of something smashing into a thousand pieces, and over it, the bellow of one furious Ivo Robotnik, so loud and thundering that it sends the Mini-Nik fleeing with a startled whistle, "How DARE you you utter waste of atoms, you are not even worth breathing in the same atmosphere as me and you have the nerve to block me when I am imparting my wisdom to you? Oh that is the last straw, you-..."
"Doctor?" In clear opposite of what any sane person would have done, Stone drops the groceries onto the nearest table and hurries directly into the epicentre of the storm, carefully dodging around strewn about shards sof porcelain in order to reach the other man. "Doctor, what happened? Are you alright?"
Once upon a time, Robotnik would probably have snapped around at the sound of the other's voice and then focused his entire ire on Stone, for daring to interrupt him. He almost does, fury hot in his chest and insults sharp like knives ready on his tongue but... the moment Stone's hand lands gently on his shoulder and he looks up to see his sycophant's worried face right there, he loses some steam. Where he had been a volcano errupting before, he suddenly finds himself dialling it down to a wildfire without his sayso.
Still, he needs to take a few breaths, teeth grinding together, before he managed with his clenched jaw, "Got into an argument."
When Stone's eyebrow jumps up, worry replaced with surprise and confusion, Robotnik bites out an added explanation. "Online."
The memory alone is enough to have him gnash his teeth together. He had been following the stream - an imbecile who dared to call himself an engineer, streaming to a small groupe of followers, and one Ivo Robotnik himself. Who had not even turned the stream on to really watch the drivel, but simply for the background noise! He had only been listening with half an ear while bent over his baby, trying to decide what he would use it for that could be helpful.
Everything had been going great, until the halfwit on video had attempted to wire his "robot" - if one even dared to call it as such, pfff - in such a blatantly wrong way that it would have blown up in his face the moment he hturned it on. Robotnik had seen the error from miles away even in his distracted state, and had magnanmiously decided to step in and inform the blubbering fool of the mistake.
Only for his chat message to be deleted seconds after he had posted it. Too many symbols?! Too many exclamation marks?! Well how else was he supposed to voice his displeasure?!
Obviously, he had had to send another message right after. And obviously he had insulted the imbecile and his entire family tere back to their neanderthal ancestors; at least he had been creative about it. They should have thanked him, for saving their sniffeling face in front of their viewers.
But instead, they had banned him from the stream. Him! The utter disrespect...!
A quiet sound draws him from his own head and his thunderous (quiet) ranting trails off when he looks over and sees Stone bent over next to his chair. His sycophant's head is turned away from him, but his shoulders are quivering slightly.
Instantly, Robotnik's eyes narrow at the other. "Do you think that's funny, Stone?"
"No? No, of course not," Stone's voice is suspiciously high, every syllable trembling under the effort to stay serious. "I'm just relieved. Judging by the noise level, I thought you were being attacked."
"I was!" Forgetting about the insolence of Stone laughing at his plight, Robotnik instead throws his hands up and whirls away again to gesture at the screen. "They nearly killed me with their inept handling of material of quite high quality - something that could have been quite the beautiful machinery, but instead was abused - and their inability to listen to someone who knows better - read as: Me, of course! And to add insult to injury, they blocked me before I could really present all the evidence pointing out the fact that their head is filled with a mixture of oxygen and nitrogen instead of brain matter!"
A peculiar little noise slips from Stone's mouth, something too soft and bitten off to be categorized as either a snort or a cough. The former agent hurries to smooth out his expression when Robotnik glowers suspiciously at him and clears his throat. "They really got under your skin if you are getting that creative."
"Nothing gets under my skin, Stone , you know that best," Robotnik denies with a snort , waving th e accusation off. "This is a matter of principles. Nobody interrupts me before I can give them a thorou g h and detailed explanation of their many failures; doing so is plain disrespect, and I will not tolerate it."
"Of course not," Stone agrees. The hand that had, somehow unnoticed, stayed on the doctor's shoulder the entire time, shifts enough thst the younger man can press his thumb against a tense neck, massaging it in small, smoothing circles. "While you are thinking about a revenge plan, do you want a latte? I brought some cinnamon rolls I think would go perfectly with it."
For a moment, the doctor is caught up in his anger, ready to bark that he does not want nor need any food or drink... but. The thought of one of Stone's lattes is quite tempting. He snaps his fingers a few times , thinking, before he agr e es with a deep sigh, "Oh fine."
The amusement on Stone's face softens and he beams, squeezing the doctor's shoulder once with a "Coming right up" before hurying off.
Well at least his sycophant listens to everything he says without fault. Somewhat appeased, Robotnik taps his fingers to his chin while he eyes the still rolling stream-chat with distaste. Something like this could not stand, obviously, but his first strategy seemed to have been... uninformed. He would have to go about this differently. Maybe brainstorm a bit, first.
Clapping his hands decisively, he calls back, “Stone!”
“Doctor?” Sounds almost directly next to him, only half a beat after his bellow echoed through the Crab.
With a quickly aborted yell, Robotnik slaps one hand over his heart, and with the other, slaps Stone over the shoulder. Goddamn this man and his stealth. If he had not gotten (somehwat) used to it years ago, he might have accidentally fire at the other with one of his machines. Glowering at his partner in a way he hopes will mask his rapid heartbeat, Robotnik growls, “Sycophant, tell me honestly – did you discover the ability to teleport at some point?”
“That would be handy, but no. The Crab just is not that big,” Stone answers with a small smile, graciously ignoring the slapping. He sets the promised latte and a plate with two cinnamon rolls down next to the control panel with great care, a smile tugging at his lips. “Is that what you wanted to ask me?”
“No, obviously not. Come here,” Robotnik whirls back around towards the holoscreen, crooking one finger in an invitation slash request. “You have spent more time in the useless parts of the internet than me. Enlighten me on this.”
“I do not spend that much time on…” Stone trails off, smile only widening when the doctor waves him off with a blablabla. Clearly intrigued now, he follows the invisible pull and leans in over the genius’ shoulder to get a closer look at what is going on. “Are you doing internet research again?”
“No. Yes.” Without meaning to, Robotnik flounders, remembering a conversation from months ago where they had agreed that they would talk things out, rather than research them. Pulling a face he tacks on quickly, “Nothing to do with you, if that’s what you think.”
“I see…?”
Hm. The slowly rising eyebrow of his sycophant is not helping at all. The doctor clears his throat sharply and returns to the really important things in life – revenge. “I am attempting to formulate a battle plan on how to publicly embarrass the waste of space that called himself an engineer to a degree that he will never start up a comoputer ever again.”
“Well….”
“Do not tell me to drop it, sycophant.”
Stone, wisely, does not tell him to drop it. He squints at the screen, parsing what had happened and where the doctor had been bested by technology by having been silenced, and then shrugs. “I'm not to sure on how to best embarrass them, but... if you do not agree with their take on a certain topic, you could always tell people what you think about it?”
When Stone sees Robotnik raise an eyebrow at him, he adds an explanation: “That is usually what is done online. Make your own post if you don’t like the existing ones.”
“That sounds way more civilized than what I expected of these low lives.”
“It is the more civiilzed option among a few. “
“Ah.” Now wait a second. When had he ever been civilized? Digging an elbow into Stone’s ribs none too harshly, he demands, “Why don’t you show me the other option, then?”
“A little late for it; you already got blocked,” is the dry reply.
“… I do see the logic in that.” Obviously, he could unblock himself again with a little bit of hacking, a few edits here and there, but is he that petty? Well, yes, of course he is, but it is still tedious, so if there is an easier option which will also not make him suspicious on his very first day on a streaming platform, better take that one first. Else he would have to clean up so many loose ends to cover his destructive tracks. Again. “I could make my own stream, you mean.”
Stone gives a shrug; he does not seem surprised that they are actually doing this; but then, he rarely is, he just rolls with the plan. “Or a short video, if you are just going to denounce something that imbecile said.”
“Hmmmm.”
"You could even call them out by name in it."
Now that sounded more like a good revenge. Sinking back in his chair, Robotnik strokes his moustache, a grin spreading over his face. Already, he can think of several ways how he could go about this... streaming thing. Rebuild what that imbecile had tried to create, just with cheaper materials and in actual working condition, instead of being a safety hazzard. Showing clips out of that moron's stream. There are so many beautiful options…
“Satisfied?” Stone asks, sounding gently amused.
“Mrm. No," the doctor responds immediately, rolling his eyes as if to say is that a trick question. "I am still apalled by the general level of education and intelligence to be found on this planet."
"Agreed. It's abyssmal."
The immediate agreement soothes the doctor's temper further, and he reaches over, patting Stone's arm that is propped up on his armrest absentmindedly. “But I will figure it out from here, thank you, Stone.”
There is a deep breath next to him, carching on nothing; distracted as he is with revenge dreams, it takes Robotnik a beat to notice it, track it, and then understand what he had just said. Ah. Alright, that is... nothing big. He had thanked Stone before, even over small things. Or had implied it. It has become more frequent over time, even.
And still, when he glances over, Stone's smile is so bright, it nearly hurts to look at. Pfff , so easy to please, the doctor thinks with none of the derision he had meant to inflict it with.
Stone hums while he nudges their shoukders together, then straightens up. “Alright, have fun."
“Oh I will, sycophant,” Robotnik assures him with a smirk. “I definitely will.”
While Stone walks away towards the kitchen, Robotnik cracks his fingers and and settles in to exact his revenge.
First of all, a script. Well that is easy enough; he knows exactly what he will be talking about in this "stream" - he will tear apart every bit of the imbecile's own video, and replace it all with his own, better approach on the topic. Apparently, concepts like this very not a foreign thing, if his quick research through the streaming platform is not misleading; the common rabel called something like this a “reaction video”. Well, react he would, and that with all the disgust he feels for this insignificant little pest.
He sets about downloading a record of the fool's stream and sics a program on it to cut out the necessary parts. While that is doing its job, he starts about setting up his own account.
Here, he pauses for a moment, finger hovering over the next command. A username, huh? Well...he is tempted to simply use his real name and be done with it - his name does have a certain ring to it, after all - but that seems too easy. Something catchy, something... with a little humour to it.
With a kick, Robotnik spins in his chair, letting it circle while he leans his head back until he is watching the room rush by nearly upside down. The Crab's many screens whirl past; Stone, bent over to packing away their groceries; the flayed-open Badnik prototype, his little egg looking small and innocent rather than the terrifying weapon it is.
His little egg... hmmmm.
His heel hits the ground, stopping his spin just in time to start typing. How about... Egg Maestro? No, too easy. Eggnik? No, what? What was that even supposed to mean?
Oh, now he got it.
With a sly grin, he begins typing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ S ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Hello and welcome, low lives all over the world, to the first and only stream of moi, Doctor... Huevo Diablo!"
Pausing briefly, Robotnik checks the camera and the screen to make sure he is perfectly in view; and yes, the Mini Nik is doing a wonderful job at getting him from his best angle. Satisfied, he returns to his little speech, "We are here today for the monumental event of me deciding to share my knowledge with the masses. Anyone lucky enough to tune it, better record this."
Ah, there it comes, the doctor notes with satisfaction; the viewer count is rising rapidly, and the chat is beginning to roll at the side. Playing around with the website's algorithm to ensure his stream would show up on the front page had been worth it.
Whos this?
Uh Huevo? Srsly?
This should be good
Smirk curling under his mustache, Robotnik waves one hand to call up the recording of the stream he will tear apart, enlargening it with a snaps of his fingers so it will float behind him while he speaks. "What you ae viewing here is the pitiful attempt of an emptyheaded imbecile at what he perceives as robotics. Which, I assure you - it is not. That there, is a joke. This ," and here, he clicks his fingers once more, calling up one of his Badniks so it comes to float over his left shoulder, "this, dear viewers, is what counts as real robotics."
Woah wtf
Is that thing real?
No way
"I see I have gotten your attention now, good. Maybe there is still hope for you - although I seriously doubt it. But it should be enough to make it clear that I do, indeed, know what I'm talking about." Clapping his hands rogether, Robotnik lets the video start rolling while he sends the Badnik back out of the picture. "Now then. Having established that, let us start in on what, exactly, the pathetic little miscreant in this video - whose name and private email address you will see on screen now - has done wrong. From start to finish, and in great detail."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ S ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The stream went over swimmingly. By the end of it, his account had gained a viewership of several hundred people, whom he had decided to call “Egg Heads” for the time being, and who had dutifully taken to fawning over his work and demanded to see more of it.
Well, obviously, they would have liked to. But they wouldn’t get to, seeing as this had been a one time thing made out of anger and spite and a hefty dose of a too much time in the hands of a crazed genius. That was it.
... Or that would have been it, that is, if the doctor had not discovered something absolutely staggering in that stream, that being-
"Donations!"
Robotnik rolls his chair across the expanse of the Crab with one well aimed kick against the wall and lets the momentum carry him over until he can slam the tablet he has been handling down onto then kitchen counter next to Stone. The younger man merely lifts the coffee he is preparing out of the blast zone before leaning in to see what he is being shown.
Not that it's easy to miss, with Robotnik basically shoving it in his face, pointing towards it. "There are donations, Stone. They keep sending me money while I give them a dressing down of their lifetime. Who knew that is a way to make money?! I could have skipped crowdfunding entirely and gone straight to this!"
"Oh, that's great," Stone agrees readily enough, checking the sums he is being shown until his gaze catches on one if the donation messages, and he snorts, reading it out loud, "Insult me more? What did you-...."
"Ah. Pffff. Insulted someone's intelligence, questioned their life choices and reason for existing, the usual. Only this time, I get paid for it." That is still something Robotnikis absolutely delighted over; he does not have to hold back, is as scathingly himself as possible, and he gets handed money for it. More than that, every time he had gone on a ranting tangent, his viewership had increased noteably. It is laughably easy, if honestly a bit puzzling. He waves his hand at the tablet for emphasis. "I would think the internet has a sort of braindamaging radiation to it, if I didn't know better."
"Do we know better?" Stone mutters where he is scrolling through the rest of the donations, eyebrows meandering further and further up the more he reads.
"I sure hope you do, else I will demote you in the Mini-Nik's programming," Robotnik rolls over to pinch Stone's hip sharply, before grabbing the tablet from him and scrolling through it, spinning idly in his chair. "They like me mean, Stone, and as unusual this unforseen development is, it is also quite flattering. It's like I suddenly have an army of clones of you watching me speak."
"... Really?"
Something about the way Stone's voice is so soft makes Robotnik pause in his gloating, and lean his head back until he can stare at the other upside down.
Stone's smile has shrunken down by a margin of forty-five percent.
Hold on. Rewind. Talking about streaming, about Stone, about his new followers-.... ah, there it is. Snorting, Robotnik snaps his chair around snd reaches for his sycophant in the same motion, repeating the pinch from before with so much strength that Stone actually flinches a little this time.
"Well no, of course it is not the same, sycophant," Robotnik admonishes with a clack of his tongue, as if it is somehow the other's fault that he had misunderstood. "I wouldn't hire any of them; you are not replacable, Stone, until I really do find a way to clone you."
"Please don't," Stone answers dryly. "The existential dread would give me a headache."
He might complain about the cloning, but his smile had regained ninety-nine percent of its glow; a success in the doctor's eyes.
Satisfied with that, Robotnik turne back to his other imminent success, flipping through the comments and donations with a dramatic flap of his wrist. "What I'm really saying, oh so easily worried Stone, is that we can use this. If one short stream can already garner this much attention and financial support, imagine what a second, or a third could do. Surface studies has also shown that these kind of self-portrayals gather huge followings which are easily influcenced by everything their object of interest spews out, so who knows what we could.... what?"
"Hmmm?" Stone blinks slowly when the doctor addresses him directly. The soft smile he had been wearing vanishes as if startled to be caught.
"Don't hmm me, Stone - you're staring at me. Why is that?"
"It's nothi-.." they exchange a look, and Stone knows better to finish that word; he ducks his head with a quiet, soft laugh. "Okay, it's not something tremendous. I just like seeing you have fun, that's all."
“Fun,” Robotnik repeats, drawing out the word like a foreign new thing. Gaze darting about the Crab as if looking for an explanation, he focuses on the technology around them - unused, safe for the parts he needed for his streaming endeavor. The flayed open Badnik prototype – unfinished work, gathering dust. Then snaps his gaze back to Stone. “Even though it is not exactly the most productive kind of activity?”
“… Fun is not supposed to be productive?” Stone’s face betrays his confusion quite clearly for once. “And, besides, you still found a way to make it kind of productive, which is actually brilliant. And even if it wasn’t, we are not exactly on a schedule here. World domination can wait when the world is not going anywhere.”
It sounds so easy when he says it, so obvious. It stops all the frenetic energy that makes up Ivo Robotnik in its tracks and the doctor tilts his head, truly taking in the wonder that is his sycophant for a beat or two before a wide grin spreads over his face, near painful in its wildness. Quick as a snake, he reaches up and grabs Stone by his collar, yanking the younger down to his eyelevel with a decisive tug to speak directly in his face, “Has anybody ever told you that you are a real pushover sometimes, sycophant?”
Stone huffs, a smile tugging at his lips. If he is worried about the way his shirt creaks under the manhandling, he does not show it. “I would have called it supportive, myself, doctor.”
“Push. Over,” Robotnik repeats gleefully, letting go to pat the other man’s cheek briefly, jokingly. “Good job, sycophant!”
The smile spreads, going luminous. “Thank you.”
“Well then! I’m off to conquer the internet, Stone!” He pushes himself away from the kitchen counter and rolls back towards his work station. “Don’t come looking until I call!”
He does not even wait for the agreement before he dives back into setting everything up to his liking – he does not need to, when he knows it will come, anyway.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ S ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And that is how it starts… and somehow does not end immediately, as had been planned. It starts, as many things do, with boredom. It goes over the edge with spite.
From there, it spirals out of control entirely because… because…
It is fun.
To Robotnik’s utter perplexation, his neverending annoyance and his secretive glee, Stone had been right. Again.
He really should start anticipating that more.
Even doing one stream had shown him that the streaming could get him the attention he so deserved - hundreds upon hundreds of viewers who were left in awe by his genius, and at the same time, nobody who held any sway over him and could tell him what to do. The ideal conditions he could never achieve, neither while working for the government, nor while on the run from the very same. He wanted to show off his newest Badnik model? Well he could, and nobody could tell him to work on a tank instead. He felt like insulting the low lives flooding his chat? There was nobody who could stop him or silence him, quite the opposite; there were even those who rewarded him for the entertainment.
It is a glorious feeling, to be the maestro over the public masses that he was always meant to be.
High on this newfound power, Robotnik launches into preparing his streaming persona. He does not begin small; when has he ever? Even though he had only planned to do one live stream in total, thanks to all the tech and the knowledge he has at hand, it is laughably easy to set up this up as a bigger project. He rearranges his workstation in a way that will let him work most efficiently and enlists the help of the Mini Nik as a mobile camera on top of the ones his screens provide. A few little tweaks to the platform's algorhitm assure that his brandnew account gets listed high enough to ensure he will attract potential viewers, but not so much that anyone could get suspicious over it. And with a bit more time invested, he even sets up accounts on the most well-liked social media for his "Huevo Diablo" persona to link them with the stream.
Stone is satisfactorily impressed when Robotnik calls him over to show him his preparation. He looks around with an eyebrow raised, humming quietly. "That was quick."
"I'm efficient, I know, I know," Robotnik kicks his chair into a spin, letting his fingers slide over the holo screens around him to draw up his account, stream and the software that will monitor the clicks to his stream and records all usernames and IP addresses that enter. "Everything is ready, I can start at any time."
"Doctor?" Stone waits for his acknowledging hum before continuing, "Are there security measures in place so live streaming won't put us at risk of being found by G.U.N.?"
"Do you think me an imbecile, sycophant?" A well-placed stop, and Robotnik lands right in front of the needed screen, starting the software he wants with a wave of his hand while he explains: "Of course there are. Several proxy servers will cover up where I'm sending from, and should someone try to track the line back, they will run into a firewall more stable than the Chinese wall during the Ming dynasty. Satisfied?"
The way Stone does not look surprised, only greatly pleased, is hint enough that he expected something like this. Still he answers dutifully while biting down on a smile, "Very. Magnificent work as always, doctor."
The admiration, in turn, is what Robotnik had expected; the main reason why he had dragged his partner over to show him everything. But he is not about to tell him that - not when he suspects Stone knows it, anyway. He makes a show of accepting the praise with hardly a blink, flapping his hand at it. "Eeeh, easy as pie. Though the whole setting up made me thirsty."
"Would a latte help?"
"It just might, Stone, it just might." He barely hides a grin when Stone laughs quietly behind him before excusing himself to go fetch the required drink.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ S ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And thus, a new routine is established. Robotnik would start up his stream and pass hours in front of it, demonstrating his Badniks, working on new ideas, or simply ranting about whatever came to mind - he is flexible about his subjects, and his viewers apparently are too. In the meantime, Stone would take care of things in the background, or take the necessary trips outside to procure whatever they needed.
The streams are an entertaining way to secure their funding, obviously. Half a day each time, no more, and the had enough money to work with and still time to focus on the really important things.
Or, that had been the plan.
By the end of the first week, Robotnik's stream already take up half the day, beginning to stretch into three quarters of it.
The doctor does not comment on it, and Stone, wisely, does the same.
The longer the streams go on, the more he runs out of things to talk about – something that should have been unthinkable, downright impossible, but it actually happens. His work on the Badniks reaches a point where he will absolutely not share it with just about anyone (nobody needs to know all of his babies secrets), and there is only so much he can talk about in his daily life, considering he spends it in a Crab Mecha and underwater more often than not.
His viewers, of course, have their own opinions about what he could be talking about. Turns out the longer he streams, the bolder the plebeians become, actually starting to suggest or even demand things from him. Is this what being a celebrity is like? If so, tedious.
Some of the ideas even offer some merits. Some others… clearly don’t.
Like this one. Barely glancing at the screen, Robotnik sighs from his very core and puts his chin in his hand, rolling his eyes at the camera. "No, you utter imbeciles, you won't see any games on my channel. Online games or whatever, an Ivo Robotnik does not play games. This is a serious stream, you nitwits."
Doc we heard you use the word rizz unironically
Aw just try one you'd like it
Grumpy today
"You would be grumpy too if you were missing your latte," Robotnik mutters under his breath, too quiet to be cauht by the microphone. He is no longer looking at the camera to make sure he is in perfect sight, but rather, checking the screen which shows him the readings of Stone's watch. His sycophant had gone out to pick up the alloy he had won them in one of the oh-so-slightly illegal deal, and they had estimated he would be back in an hour and a half.
The chime of the Mini-Nik had informed the doctor ten minutes ago that the agreed upon time had passed, with no sight of Stone at all.
The readings are fine, Robotnik notes with no little sense of... hrm. Satisfaction? He cannot name the feeling right, and he shakes it off to focus on the data instead; that, he can read at least. Stone's heartbeat and breathing are steady, temperature a bit raised which could mean exertion but does not necessarily-...
Behind him, the Crab gives a hiss as its open its entryway. At the sound, a kind of tension Robotnik had not even noticed carrying seeps out of him so abruptly, he feels himself sag forward in his chair before he catches it, straightening up.
He is in the middle of snapping around to check himself when he hears the familiar tune of Stone’s footsteps, and his sycophant hurries into view. Stone catches his searching gaze and opens his mouth – then stops, when he sees the Mini-Nik recording. Instead of saying something, he smiles, raising a hand for a brief wave; all of it without stopping as he makes his way over to the kitchen with big steps.
It takes him out of Robotnik’s line of sight, and that of the camera as well; a second later, the coffee machine starts up with a beeping sound.
All of that has happened in under thirty seconds. Robotnik stays in his seat, a peculiar mix of confusion-anger-offense rising in his chest, a thing with teeth and claws that is growling like a beast. That’s it? That’s all?! He does not even get an explanation?!
No. Not happening.
By now, two week into his daily streaming schedule, Robotnik had learned more about the ins and outs of streaming, and how to use it to each its fullest advantage. He expertly flicks the control that will start up the advertisements that will best aim at the interests of his viewership demography, and give him the time to walk away.
He gets to his feet without a single glance back, and trails after his wayward sycophant.
He finds him where he expected, bent over the coffee machine with utter concentration. Something about the familiar sight which is usually so calming, now makes the doctor’s nerves crackle with an emotion that feels close to fury but isn’t quite. "Stone."
"Yes?" Stone looks over his shoulder, spots him coming, and smiles crookedly. "Ah, your latte will be ready in a moment, doc-..."
"Where were you?" Robotnik interuots him. He closes the distance between them and nudges into the space next to Stone, turning sideways so he can lean against the counter with his hip and look the other up and down. No injuries to be seen; nothing in his posture that shows Stone could be hurt, or anxious. That should be reliev-… satisfactory , but he also knows his sycophant well enough to be aware of how well the other can hide his own pain. He crosses his arms and demands sharp and cooly, "We agreed on ninety minutes, what held you up?"
"... Rush hour," Stone answers after a perplexed beat, his confusion melting into something understanding. "I hadn’t considered how bad the traffic would be around this time of day."
Robotnik grunts, if in understanding or annoyance, he is not so sure himself. "And you forgot how to contact me, too?” He does not give the other a chance to answer anything, steam rolls over the attempt of Stone getting in a word etchwise with his own venomous rant, "Neglectful of you, sycophant. You knew I was waiting for my hourly latte; that would have made you hurry, once upon a time, but I see you are slacking off these days."
Each word is delivered like a knife being thrown, meant to cut, to hurt. He is a master at that, at cutting everyone down to shape with a good old tongue-lashing alone.
Even when he is not entirely sure why he is doing it, like now; all he understands is that the pressure in his chest which has accumulated over the past too-long ten minutes needs an outlet, and Stone’s confused face seems the only target for it. So he snaps it all out, like he has always done -
And then feels bereft and strangely wrong-footed when he is done, and it gives him no real relief. That is… new. Robotnik blinks, frowns, and then immediately tries to school his face back into neutrality again when he sees Stone watching him with a light frown, entirely too understanding for his liking.
Feeling put in the spotlight all of a sudden, Robotnik straightens and flaps a hand. “Ad’s over. Bring me that latte, sycophant.”
And he turns and stalks off – not fleeing, thank you very much! He just didn’t have anything else to say, that’s all.
He has almost convinced himself of that by the time he falls into his chair, scooting closer to the screens. The advertisement is still running – he has miscaclulated. He never miscalculates, he grouses, dammit, what is wrong with him today?!
It’s the latte that’s missing, he tells himself with a frown. He really must be needing that caffeine if it is putting him so out of sorts.
Tapping his fingers impatiently, he watches the counter ticking down, waits until he is back “on air”.
And nearly sighs when he hears the telltale footsteps in his back, stopping only inches behind him.
Darn it all. They both know that Stone can move around without so much as a sound; that he is deliberately making enough noise to be detected means that his sycophant wants something from him.
Right on cue, Stone speaks up quietly. “Doctor?”
“Hrm.”
"Can I speak?"
The ad finally runs out, and his own face goes live again on screen and with it, Stone standing at his back as well. Like this, Robotnik can see him standing there on the stream’s videofeed, two steps behind the doctor, a cup of latte in hand… and with his shoulders slumping and a worried frown etched into his face.
Not just worried, but apologetic . When it had been Robotnik who snapped at the other man as soon as he set foot into the Crab, instead of simply asking if everything was alright.
A sigh wrangles itself out of his chest, and Robotnik presses his fingers to his palm, muting the stream with a single command before he turns his chair to face the other. "Knock yourself out, sycophant."
Stone immediately straightens up, face brightening somewhat even though the wrinkle of worry between his brows stays. He steps closer so they are next to each other, and inclines his head slightly to be heard over the quiet music that fills the background. "I'm sorry, for not thinking to call ahead. When I checked and saw I would not need longer than ten minutes, I figured it would be fine, but that was careless of me. I will do better next time."
He sounds truly like he is chagrined, and not merely like he is going along with this to indulge the doctor’s whims.
Whatever kind of pointless anger Robotnik had been feeling dies down to embers and leaves him feeling tired and… well, not bad, per se, but also not exactly stellar. Urgh. Feelings are so damned complicated.
He sighs, pressing two fingers to the bridge of his nose to stave of the headache he feels coming on. “One minute,” he decides out loud. “From now on, you have an error margin of one minute; any longer delays than that, and you let me know."
It is so simple, but it is enough. Stone’s frown is wiped off his face as if it was never there in the first place, and his sycophant beams, nodding eagerly. "Of course, doctor."
In the face of so much enthusiasm, it is quite impossible to stay angry for very long. Knowing a losing battle when he sees one, Robotnik snaps his chair around to turn his back on the other; he is not quite ready to be soothed again, yet.
Sadly, the movement brings him face to face with the heart rate monitor which he had been watching so intently minutes before, which does absolutely nothing to brighten his mood.
He is still glowering at it darkly when Stone speaks up quietly behind him. "I think I felt secure, knowing that you always know how I'm doing, anyway."
Ah. So they are looking at the same thing right now. Gritting his teeth against the uncanny feeling of being caught, Robotnik shakes his head jerkily. "Well don't think so much, then," he says, much har sh er than he intended to. "The watch is useless the moment you take it off, or get separated from it in any other way; it is not a fail safe."
Not to mention that it would be too late for him to do anything, should the reading worsen while he is not with Stone.
The thought alone is enough to snap his shoulders back up with tension, teeth grinding together audibly. The forced – wanted – needed – close proximity between the two of them in the past few months had entirely spoiled him, if he is now unable to handle not hovering over Stone’s shoulder at all times; darn it all, when had he become so controlled by emotions? He had not been this… this weak before…
A hand settles on his wrist, stopping the spiraling thoughts neatly. “Doctor.”
When his gaze snaps back around, it is to find Stone leaning over his shoulder, expression soft. His sycophant’s grip is lose but firm around the doctor’s wrist; grounding.
“I’m aware it’s not a fail safe,” Stone assures him quietly, a lopsided smile tugging at his lips while he squeezes gently. “Still, it helps me feel... protected. Knowing that I’m not alone. I like it, and... perhaps I have depended a little too much on it."
Oh. Robotnik blinks, jaw unclenching while he digests that. So… He wasn’t the only one, then?
It lifts the pressure he had felt behind his breastbone; the helpless anger of wanting to berate himself for feeling too much calming down like a storm stopping in its tracks. If even his sycophant, who is trained to be collected and much more in control of his own emotions, can feel just the same kind of… need to make sure, then perhaps this is not quite the weakness he had perceived it as.
Breathing out slowly, pointedly, Robotnik repeats, “One minute, Stone. No more.”
Stone’s smile grows, eyes creasing with it. “Understood, doctor.”
“And that latte over there better be the best one you ever made.”
The smile tilts over into a startled laugh, and Stone turns his head, failing to hide his grin. “Ah, I hope so, but-… here. You tell me.”
He reaches over to hand the doctor the requested latte right into his grabby gimme gesture, and then waits expectantly while Robotnik checks it over.
Despite himself, the genius finds his lips quirking as he gazes down at the latte art on top of the beverage. It is a painstakingly detailed portrait of himself, looking angry, while a smaller portrait of a sad Stone’s face swims next to it, a tiny sorry carved into the foam right next to it.
Schooling his expression, he sniffs at the cup, then takes a tiny sip of it, smacking his lips. Thinks for a beat while he tastes the goat milk and the hint of cacao and cinnamon of the powdery art. Finally, he grunts and declares magnamously, “Passable.”
Stone’s smile goes so bright it could rival the sun, but the man is smart enough to duck his head to hide it.
Lips twitching without his sayso, Robotnik aims a light kick at the other’s shin. “Well? What are you standing around for still? I am live, you know, and this is my spotlight you are hogging here.”
“Right, sorry,” Stone steps back and out of the camera’s view. But he does not turn away immediately, instead hovering in place for a beat longer while he smiles back at the other. “Have fun.”
“Go,” Robotnik grouses, and then snorts when he hears a quiet laughter in answer.
Sipping at his latte (it is damned good) he closes the r eadings of Stone’s watch for good, listens for the familiar rustle of someone moving about behind him for a beat, and then turns back to the stream, feeling much more, hm, focused now.
Now, back to figuring out what he would be streaming about next.
He has barely unmuted the stream again when he notices rapid motion in his periphery. Frowning, he checks for the source of it – and does a double take when he sees it is his stream’s chat, flying past at such a speed he can barely follow it at all. What the…? Curious now, he leans in to read, slowing the whole thing down with a few pointed commands.
What he sees only perplexes him further. He had expected rants because he had muted himself, or for the long advertisement break, but not… this. Whatever this is.
Omg what
Whos that?
Never seen that guy
Coffee delivery!
Is he like a butler
Boyfriend?!?!?!
Where is my coffee
Aw what, the doc can be cute?!
The comments keep pouring in, all of them in much the same vein of questions, exclamations, and theories. Robotnik‘s eyebrow etch further up towards his hairline as it goes on, first at the sudden influx of it, then at how wild the theories are getting fast. Some imbeciles are cooing over the „cutesy display between roommates / boyfriends“ while other suspect some kind of employer-employee relationship - not that far off - and more than half the chat demands to see more of the "mysterious coffee man".
Robotnik blinks, glances down at his latte – still tasty, so take a quick sip – but finds no answer in there to the sudden burst of curiosity. Deciding it can be ignored for the time being, he shrugs and addresses the chat as a whole, “Well then, Egg Heads! Hope you did not get bored while my stimulating self was away!”
Doc who was that
Yeah spill the beans
You got a co-star now?
“No stars here besides moi,” he declares, sketching a sweeping gesture that covers all of him. “Obviously. Now then, if you all could do your best to focus your meager brain activity back onto what other interesting topics I can dazzle you with in future streams…”
The chat slows down somewhat, even though there is still the occassional question on who that was, and when he will be back.
Eh. Robotnik shrugs mentally, deciding to ignore it. His viewers are a little out of it sometimes, and not even he with all his genius really understands their obsession over things. He cannot fathom what could possibly interest them so much about Stone, but one thing is for sure – they are all very simple creatures.
They will have forgotten about it soon enough.