Archive of Our Own

Stone didn't make a habit out of questioning his superiors.

Of course, there was plenty of questioning happening in the privacy of his mind. People with power rarely had the brains to use it properly, and the agent, himself, had been sent on more than a couple of pointless jobs throughout his career, just because someone hadn't bothered to think about it for more than a few seconds.

Still, it sometimes worked in his favor. If there was something Stone loved, it was change. It was the reason he had the job he had. Well, not the whole reason. As far as he could observe one didn't end up working for G.U.N. unless there was something deeply wrong with their civilian life. Orphans, fugitives, abusive pasts. There was a pattern to find, there, if Stone ever got bored enough to seek it.

Change, then, prevented him from such boredom. A mission being stupid was none of his concern so long as he got to do it in a different way, in a different place, with different people. And so, he didn't question his superiors whenever a new assignment came, ordering the agent to become a bodyguard, a spy, an assassin, or a soldier. He could do it, if it was something new.

His most recent job felt like a death sentence, though, and so he was questioning it before he could even think.

“An assistant?”

The woman in front of him nodded, looking bored. Of course she looks bored, he told himself, she spends all day sitting at a desk. G.U.N. did not have HR, as far as anyone knew. Couldn't risk civilians working so close to heavily guarded secrets just to hire some people and resolve petty disputes. This woman was probably someone's secretary. Or assistant.

“For Doctor Ivo Robotnik. Has been working alone for so long, people forgot he's supposed to be part of a department. He's in charge of Innovations,” she explained, slowly, like every word meant an effort that was barely worth it.

Stone knew nothing about this Doctor. The Robotniks, he recalled, were known for their engineering and, mostly, their weapons, but he had always been more of a chemist. Not a lot of interest to be found in unbending metal and repetitive circuits.

“I do field work,” Stone protested, aware that one misstep could mean insulting this woman's profession to her face.

Perhaps she found it very fulfilling, who was he to guess. The slow way she blinked said otherwise.

“Assistant is more like an umbrella term, in this case,” she drummed her fingers on the hard wood of the desk she was confined to. “You will be in charge of his security, and at his disposal in general. Your priority is to keep everyone around, and mostly the Doctor himself, alive.”

“Doesn't the man build weapons?”

“What Robotnik does is anyone's guess.”

“Am I supposed to spy him?”

That piqued his interest. He could impersonate a dedicated secretary if there was an actual end goal. As it stood, this job would last for as long as the Doctor and Stone were both alive. The man was older than him, he knew that much, but in no way was he on his way to the Heavenly Gates. With a newly appointed babysitter, that life expectancy seemed to prolong ever more endlessly in front of Stone.

He wasn't the best bodyguard. Sure, none of his charges had been killed yet, but he wasn't the only agent who could claim such an accomplishment. Perhaps, if worse came to worst, he could fail at that particular part of the job. One big stain on his file, no doubt, but less daunting than the possibility of spending the best years of his career making coffee runs for an old man.

“Not at all,” the woman answered. “He would know immediately if we tried something like that.”

“Very paranoid?”

“You could say that.”

“Sounds like he'd be better off if left alone.”

“That's no longer sustainable.”

“Why was I chosen?”

The woman looked at him. Then answered.

“Your blood type. You're a universal donor, correct?”

A few assumptions about the Doctor, based on what little the file he was provided indicated:

First, the man was practically an hermit. There were registers of missions in which small attack forces were assigned to him, but if the reports were truthful, Robotnik didn't even acknowledge them. He worked completely alone, as he had been warned.

Second, he was, indeed, in charge of Innovations, but the goal of that department was as vague as its name, and no one was actually working under him. Definitely weapons, as Stone had first assumed.

Third, Robotnik was in his fifties. With a bit of dread, Stone wondered if he would be stuck teaching a man who was supposed to be innovating how to read his own email.

Fourth, orphan. The mandatory tragic past theory still held true, at least.

(Can one be a Nepo baby as a fifty year old orphan? Unlikely. Probably lives up to his name, then. No teaching how to open emails. That assessment was unfair, anyway. Not that much older than Stone.)

Fifth, no photos, but Stone was able to picture a generic middle aged white man with enough ease for it to not be a problem.

Sixth, blood type O negative. Because of course it was. The whole reason Stone was condemned, picked as a sacrifice among hundreds of agents.

Robotnik was, clearly, too important to die, and in a dangerous enough position for it to be deemed necessary to keep a potential blood donor at hand.

No way was Stone the only agent with the same blood type. But, he admitted regretfully, he was probably the only one with a perfect track record who met the criteria. Should've half-assed his job more. He could think of at least three of his past charges who he could've let get assassinated with minor personal and international consequences.

All in all, it wasn't looking good, but one can't get out of a situation without getting into it first. With that in mind, Stone followed obediently when Walters called, ready to meet the Doctor.

Ivo Robotnik was a surprise from the start.

The man clearly was pissed off, to begin with, and not bothering to hide it, walking back and forth through Walter's office like a caged animal, or, taking what he knew into consideration, like an animal who wanted to go back to his own cage, where he was comfortable and alone.

He also didn't look like the generic white man Stone had been imagining. That one, he decided, was entirely his fault. He had been picturing Walters.

Robotnik was tall and, unlike almost everyone in the building, he wasn't wearing a suit nor tactical gear. Instead, a long black coat over a black turtleneck and black pants. His hair, also black, was so dark that it had to be dyed. It was altogether too much black, Stone thought, congratulating himself for taking the black tie that morning.

He also had an impressive mustache, and an impressive frown. He looked like he could open his own emails, alright, and he would skin Stone alive if he dared suggest otherwise. On instinct, the Agent straightened.

“Ah, there you are,” the Doctor greeted Walters, sweetness so fake that it tasted sour. “I thought you had forgotten how to get to your own damned office!”

“Robotnik…” Walters sighed, stepping inside.

“What is it now? Was the last pathetic toy you sent me to be reverse engineered not clear enough? Do I need to draw a little picture explaining what an IED is? Or was it too clear, and it hurt your little scientists’ pride? Whatever it is, I do not actually care, I only came because the coffee maker broke. Get me a new one.”

If nothing else about this man was impressive, at least the speed at which he could talk was. Stone didn't react.

“What happened to the coffee maker?” Walters questioned, looking conflicted and seemingly forgetting why they were there.

“It went BOOM!”

The Doctor shouted the last part, probably expecting to startle them. Undoubtedly to his disappointment, all he got was another sigh from Walters.

“This is not why I called you here,” Walters finally started, ignoring the scoff from the other man. “Robotnik, an agent has been assigned to you.”

For all the speed the man had just exhibited, no reaction came from this announcement. Stone, ready for an outburst after only a few seconds with this man, looked at him curiously. His posture remained the same, his expression frozen.

Before Stone could reach any sort of conclusions about that information, the man's eyes moved and focused on him for the first time.

“An… agent.” Robotnik said, tone neutral.

Not phased at all by the staring battle happening in his office, Walters nodded.

“Agent Stone will be entirely at your disposal, as well as in charge of your security. Of course, he is still a G.U.N. agent, so he responds to us fir–”

Robotnik’s arm moved so fast that a less experienced person wouldn't have seen it coming. As it were, Stone forced himself to not block the attack. Perhaps it was some sort of test, and it would be beneficial for him to fail it, even if it hurt his image.

Braced for a slap or perhaps a punch, the Agent couldn't stop a surprised sound when, instead, the Doctor wrapped his arm around Stone's neck and pulled him towards his chest in a headlock.

Astonished, he remained still as he felt the vibrations of Robotnik's laughter against his cheek.

“It was about time!” The Doctor exclaimed. “You have so many agents, I was starting to wonder if you didn't know the meaning of sharing, since you couldn't be bothered to spare me even one!”

Once again, Walters sighed. Stone was too shocked to move, and a part of him also felt like resisting was a bad idea. It's not like he was actually being hurt. Robotnik wasn't the athletic type, it seemed.

“Agents aren't pets, Robotnik.”

“Too late!” Stone felt the pressure of the Doctor's face against his hair, like he was being nuzzled. The dangerous smirk, though, he could hear . “This one's mine.”

The lab was bigger than Stone would've thought necessary, or maybe there was just a lot of wasted space. The walls seemed covered in… Things. Mechanical things? From floor to ceiling, as well as the multiple desks and tables that rounded the room. It wasn't exactly chaotic, it just looked that way compared to the center, which was void of anything. The white floors were spotless, so much so that Stone could see his own reflection as a black smudge on them.

At least, that was the case when they entered. Without pause, Robotnik walked to one of the desks closest to the exit door, and unceremoniously threw everything it hosted on the floor, creating a clattering noise that almost startled the agent.

“There,” Robotnik patted the now empty desk. “You can use that, Agent… you. Don't make a noise, don't ask questions, don't touch anything, and don't make a mess.” the Doctor looked at the floor, to the mess he had just created. “And clean that.”

It was clear the man had already forgotten his name. Stone decided not to remind him. Perhaps if he was lucky, Robotnik would be so embarrassed of it that he would ask for Stone to be transferred back.

“What are my tasks, Doctor Robotnik?” Stone made sure to use both the title and name, to add some pressure.

“Tasks?” The Doctor looked back at the empty desk. “There's nothing for you to do here. You can sit there and hack a government’s secret database or play minesweeper for all I care. Just do it,” he hit the wood with his knuckles, the noise echoing through the lab. “Quietly.”

Stone felt his stomach drop. It was one thing to play secretary for an asshole, it was another one entirely to sit there and do nothing at all. Boredom would kill him. Or it would make him snap and he'd end up putting a bullet on some part of his new boss' body, which would in turn make the people at G.U.N. put a target on his back. Or, worse still, label him as too unstable for field work.

“But sir, I'm–”

“Ah,” for the second time that morning, the Doctor put his hands on him, this time using his entire palm to cover Stone's mouth. “Do not argue with me, Agent. You won't like the consequences.”

Would the consequences include something other than sitting around and being silent? Reassignment, perhaps? Stone considered his option, but in the end, Robotnik was a wild card for now, and it was better not to take risks. It was, after all, the first day. Stone had withstood torture before, both physical and psychological. He was more than capable of sitting still for a bit.

With a hand still covering his mouth, Stone tried to nod, doing his best to not smear his lips all over the other man's palm. The Doctor may have no qualms with touch, but the Agent was not really a fan. Luckily, Robotnik retreated.

“Great. Tour over, enjoy your stay. Or don't, I don't care, just make sure to–”

“Be quiet?” 

“Got that one right, you want a golden star?”

It had to be sarcasm. Stone knew it was. But Robotnik's expression hadn't changed at all, and the man was weird enough for a serious doubt to form in his mind.

“Uh…”

“I was joking, Agent. Do you know what a joke is? Do you need to Google it? The Wi-Fi password is the answer to that equation over there.”

Stone turned to where the Doctor was pointing. On the opposite wall there seemed to be a billboard with some kind of lovecraftian bullshit that may or may not include numbers. It took almost the entire surface, and it didn't seem to be solved.

“Is… that another joke?” He ventured.

“Btzz, no. Better solve it quickly, you really do need help from your friend Google,” with that, the Doctor started walking away, mumbling something about inferior search engines .

“I– Doctor–”

“What?” Robotnik stopped, his back still to Stone. Something about his voice, or maybe his posture, made the Agent tense. He had diffused bombs before, and the sensation he felt reminded him of that. He wondered if that was why he was chosen, after all. Not as help, but as deescalation .

G.U.N. Had done stupider things before.

“I don't have a chair, sir.”

“Well then FIGURE IT OUT!”

Stone got the impression that it was all a matter of which one of the two would snap and kill the other first.

Slowly, miserably wasting away at his desk, with his recently acquired chair and his old laptop he had maybe used three times since he bought it two years prior, Stone found his only solace was to watch his boss in a desperate attempt to not lose his mind.

Truly, he would prefer anything else, but Robotnik was the only thing that ever changed in the lab, and Stone was forced to spend 8 hours each day trapped there.

To his credit, the Doctor moved a lot, even while programming, which was traditionally a pursuit that required sitting and writing. He was always tapping his feet or his hands or bobbing his head to the frankly unhealthy volume of his songs, which made all threats about silence become null. Stone got the impression that he could explain in detail just how he planned to assassinate his boss and the man wouldn't hear.

He also liked to roll around in his chair, and dance. Begrudgingly, Stone had to admit that the man not only wasn't as old as he had initially pictured, but that he also didn't act like he had expected. Stone would dare claim there was something youthful about his attitude, if not because he doubted anyone of any age acted like this .

There wasn't any routine that Stone could discern. Sometimes, when he arrived at the lab –on time, always on time. Stone had standards– Robotnik was already there, tinkering with something or reading or writing or coding or whatever the hell he did with those glowy blue projections of his. Sometimes he wasn't, and he would show up at some point during the day, occasionally with a cup of coffee in hand, or a box full of parts that surely would serve some purpose sooner or later. On one particular day, the Doctor didn't show up at all, and Stone spent eight hours sitting alone in a silent lab, praying something would explode.

Not like that day had been too different from most. Robotnik always greeted Stone with a calm “Agent,” but rarely addressed him outside of that. Credit where credit is due, the Doctor was completely self-sufficient, and outside of the initial command of cleaning up, he had never asked anything from Stone.

Well, except one thing.

Anytime the Doctor had to leave the lab zone during working hours, be it for a meeting or a trial run of the newest drone or just to buy himself a snack, he snapped his fingers and gestured for Stone to follow. Initially, the agent had done so excitedly. Something was finally happening!

Seeing his boss under a different light –but only literally. The harsh white lighting of the lab washed away even the deep black of Robotnik's clothes, and watching him under the, by comparison, gentle yellow of the hallways was like looking at him for the first time– lifted Stone's spirits immediately. Days of nothing but staring at his wi-filess laptop had dragged him towards despair, but he was, after all, in charge of security. Of course he had to accompany the man! While it was unlikely that any sort of attack would happen in the G.U.N’s headquarters, he felt on his element already.

The elation sustained him during the first five outings, but soon enough it became clear that the Doctor wasn't dragging him outside because he considered Stone necessary in any capacity.

Briefly, Stone considered the Doctor didn't want him to find dangerous secrets if left alone in the lab, but he had to let go of the notion. Robotnik didn't have any problem with allowing Stone to get there first in the mornings, and, as previously mentioned, he had been left alone in there for an entire day. No, whatever motivation Robotnik had for taking the agent with him, it had nothing to do with security or hidden secrets, either because the place was heavily monitored, or because he didn't consider Stone a threat at all.

Robotnik was taking him out of the lab to… show him off.

Like an award winning dog in a pet competition.

This one’s mine, the Doctor had said, clearly enjoying the idea, even though he had no use for an agent.

Seething with rage, Stone admitted to himself that it was still better than sitting at the desk all day, and followed when beckoned.

One of the little pleasures Stone was able to find in his new job, other than plotting his darling boss's murder, was seeing Robotnik drink coffee.

The machine that had gone boom before Stone's first day had not been replaced, and for all the man could create impressive machines seemingly out of nowhere, it apparently hadn't occurred to him to make a new one. Stone wasn't going to pitch the idea. He had a working coffee machine at home and made sure to bring a thermos full of it to last through his shift daily. On the other hand, Robotnik, apparently a caffeine addict of the worst kind, took his assistant with him when he went through the breakroom and tried to create something drinkable for himself. He rarely succeeded. He still chugged it down, grimacing between gulps as he worked.

It was the highlight of Stone's work day.

But as fun as seeing Robotnik suffer a caffeinated hell of his own making was, it wouldn't suppress the agent's bloodlust for long. Weeks of seeing this pushed him to his limit, and, recklessly, Stone decided to up the game.

He had noticed his boss eyeing his thermos with envy before. Stone's coffee was actually nothing special. It was the brand he found at the supermarket, he took it black with a bit of sugar, and that was it. Still, he supposed anything would be an improvement from the hellish concoctions his boss created, considering his apparent refusal to actually buy any ingredients, forcing him to use and mix whatever he could find in the breakroom. Stone thought it was disgusting, but then again, he was simply disgusted by the man.

That morning, then, Stone decided to leave his perfectly acceptable coffee at home, and instead bought himself a cappuccino on his way to work from a little and overpriced coffee shop.

It wouldn't last him an hour, but that wasn't the point. It smelled divine.

Arriving first, the agent set up his laptop with a game he had downloaded at home –it was about pranking an annoying boss, and he wondered if it would count as a threat, if it was found. He hoped so– in his little desk, and placed the paper cup in a corner, where the airflow would surely cause the smell to make rounds around the lab. He didn't touch it until Robotnik arrived.

He did so shortly, saying his usual “Agent” and walking to the big computer that he seemed to favor over the smaller, equally confusing computers. Stone replied good-naturedly, as every morning, and observed the other man like a hawk.

With no obvious reaction yet, Stone took his first sip of the cappuccino, letting out a slightly exaggerated exhalation of satisfaction and beginning to type nonsense in his laptop to cover it.

At that, Robotnik seemed to falter for a second, turning his head towards him the slightest amount before aborting the movement. No further reaction was achieved, but none was needed. Stone felt himself smirking, stopping only when the Doctor gestured for him to follow to the breakroom. A feeling of accomplishment that had become rare working under this man washed over him as he watched Robotnik rummage through the room looking for something that he could perhaps pass as coffee, muttering under his breath the entire time.

Daring, Stone repeated the process the next day, however, something went wrong. The Doctor was already in the lab when the agent arrived, and although he was greeted as usual, he tripped on his way to his desk.

One of the boxes of mystery parts that Robotnik kept bringing in had been placed on the floor, strategically put there so Stone would trip over it. The agent, of course, caught himself with ease, but his cortado spilled.

Robotnik hadn't shouted at him since his first day, because in actuality they barely interacted enough for him to upset the other man. But he took his chance then.

He shouted about everything, insulting his non-existent family, his unknown personality, his outdated laptop and, incomprehensibly, his clothes, even though Stone always wore the same standard suit everyone else used.

It all washed over him. Stone was used to shouts and screams, had been since his early childhood. His feelings regarding that were similar to his feelings regarding small talk.

Boring.

Maybe five minutes later, as Stone schooled his expression to not show what he thought of this little tirade, Robotnik tired himself and turned around, marching back to one of the side tables, where he had been assembling –or perhaps disassembling?– one thing or another.

“And clean that,” the man ordered.

Stone looked at his spilled drink, and sighed once the music started to play. One month working there, and the only mission he was given remained the same. Clean that. 

He did. Polished the floor until he could once again see his own reflection there. What was wrong with his suit, anyway? He had considered using more colorful ties in an attempt to annoy his boss, but he hadn't yet gone through with it. When he looked up, he found Robotnik's eyes on him.

Stone froze.

“Well done,” the Doctor praised, something dangerous in his eyes. “You'll be in charge of that from now on.”

That was how Stone got promoted from potted plant to cleaning man.

The Doctor had cleaning drones. Stone had seen them, and so this could be nothing more than a punishment. But at least it was something .

The next day, the agent arrived with his usual thermos. Unlike every previous instance, though, Robotnik walked towards his desk, took the flask Stone had just taken a sip from, and drank his fill in big gulps.

With a dramatic exhalation, his boss left the thermos in the desk, and patted Stone's shoulder.

“You'll be in charge of the drinks, too.”

Stone didn't touch the remaining coffee.

Three months working for the man, bringing him the most absurd orders of coffee he could come up with –none had been rejected so far– and leaving the lab floor spotless left Stone way too close to his breaking point for comfort.

He needed to do something. Anything other than sitting at his desk and staring at the Wi-Fi equation while forcing himself to not try to solve it. He could poison the coffee, sure, but that would only be funny for the few minutes it took his boss to die.

Desperate for an outlet, Stone turned to his old trauma theory. Collecting data for it required talking to his colleagues, but God help him, anything was better than staying at the lab with the loud music and bright lights and awful boss.

The only resistance he had found so far was another agent, Melissa, and only because she didn't share her entire life story as soon as Stone gave her an opening, unlike everyone else. She had an annoying habit of flirting though, and Stone was just desperate enough for something even remotely interesting to happen that sometimes he even flirted back. Perhaps he could stir some drama. He knew Rebecca, a new reclute, was infatuated with her, and she seemed like the unstable type. With some luck, he could make her jealous enough to cause her to go ballistic.

“So,” Melissa grabbed her lunch from the communal fridge. Stone never placed anything there, it felt like a biohazard. “What's like working under Robotnik?”

A nightmare. Mind numbing. I picture a new way to kill him with each passing day. The only reason I haven't tried is that I think he might find it amusing.

“He's the smartest person in the world,” Stone shrugged. No one had told him as much, but he could recognize genius when he saw it. Didn't mean he had to care.

“I bet he keeps you on your toes.”

If only.

“Yeah, well… No day is like the other.”

At least for the Doctor it wasn't. He was always doing something new. Stone cleaned floors and prepared coffee, then watched the man move around and plotted murder. Day after day after day.

“I heard the generals talking,” Melissa pointed at him with her plastic fork. “Seems like your boss will be sent out to the field soon.”

“... What?”

“Yeah, apparently a small task force was being put together. People were cashing in on favors and bets to get out of it.”

“I'm…” Stone shook his head. “I'm in charge of his security.”

“I imagine they want to present the candidates to you so all you have to do is organize them.” Melissa paused, chewing for a few seconds. The field. The field. Would Stone finally get a chance to go out and actually do something? “If you need a… friendly face, I wouldn't mind going, Age–”

“Agent!” Robotnik's voice caused Melissa to jump. Stone turned towards his boss, who peeked his head through the break room door. He rarely had reasons to go up there since Stone handled the coffee. “There you are.”

“Doctor.”

“You need to pack, they're sending us to no man's land to blow some idiots up. Bring your coffee maker!”

“Yes, sir!” For the first time, Stone's answer was earnest. They were leaving the lab. They were leaving the country. Even if it was only for a day, the agent would grasp the opportunity with all he had. “When are we leaving?”

Robotnik dismissed the question with a hand gesture.

“Aren't you in charge of logistics and all that? Figure it out. Now. You finally have something more or less useful to do, aren't you happy?”

Stone took a deep breath.

“Right away, Doctor.”

It was as close to a dismissal as an agent could give, but Robotnik stayed rooted in place, looking at him expressionless. It went on for so long that Melissa had to risk making her presence known.

“Uh, break is over. See you later, Agent Stone. Doctor,” she nodded with an air of professionalism that usually wasn't there.

To Stone's surprise, Robotnik perked up at that, and a slow grin spread across his face.

“Agent Stone,” the Doctor called, and he replied with his own “Doctor” before realizing what had just happened.

Great, the asshole finally knew his name. If he wanted to so badly, why didn't he read the file? Whatever. Not even his boss could ruin his good mood now.

When Robotnik had said “no man's land” Stone had assumed some unfortunate country in Asia, or perhaps South America, historically favored playgrounds for the US government. Not… Austria. The blowing people up was also an embellishment, as it seemed, because they were just going to be doing some sort of demonstration for a potential buyer, and although explosives of various kinds were very much included in the deal, it didn't seem like they would be using them.

Stone didn't mind one bit. He got one week to plan the entire trip in the safest way possible, and he had a blast every step of the way. The Doctor demanded he not accept the task force that had been prepared, but even that was a positive, as it forced the Agent to get creative. He would be damned if Robotnik was at risk of receiving even a mosquito bite. This was the first fun thing he had been allowed to participate in in weeks, and he was going to do it perfectly.

The day of, he decided to wear a black shirt with his usual black suit. He felt a bit like a douche, but it also seemed to be the right move. The private jet would be completely empty, except for the Doctor, Stone himself, and the pilot, who Stone had vetted to insane extremes, and could now confirm kept the trend of a tragic past (abusive parents, get in line) and that she was the type of person who tasted soap when eating cilantro. She was also a very experienced woman who had no reason to put a bullet in Robotnik's head, which was a criteria not even Stone met.

“Some cultures had this ridiculous idea about knowing one's true name, did you know, Agent Stone ?” was the only thing Robotnik told him during the flight, a self-satisfied smirk in place.

“I'm afraid I never much cared for fairy tales, Doctor,” he replied, clenching his fists. The only answer he got was a hum and being ignored for the rest of their time in the jet, thankfully.

If knowing one's name meant ownership, the agent thought, annoyed, wouldn't it be stupid to put your initials in every single one of your creations, oh mister genius? 

He didn't voice this, because he had a meticulously planned schedule to adhere to, and for once it didn't include angering his boss.

Arriving in Austria went just as planned, at least until Robotnik opened his mouth.

“Agent Stone, I want a coffee.”

“Sir, we first need to arrive at the ho–”

“Agent, now .”

Reaching a compromise with himself, Stone decided that he could afford to lose sight of his charge for a few minutes in order to enter a coffee shop. Robotnik was, after all, surrounded by weapons of his own making, and despite how much Stone entertained himself while planning this little trip, there wasn't actually anything indicating someone would try anything funny here.

And if the Doctor was murdered, Stone could at least say he had tried.

He still entered the first coffee shop he found and asked for whatever drink they could have ready the fastest. The man behind the counter offered him a latte someone hadn't picked up and, grimacing, Stone took it.

“Steamed goat milk,” the boy informed him, accepting the local currency Stone had acquired just in case.

The Doctor, having waited a grand total of six minutes, was tapping his foot impatiently, and snatched the cup from Stones’ hand as soon as he was in reach. With no hesitation, he put the cup to his lips and tipped his head back.

Then immediately started coughing.

Stone hadn't received this strong of a reaction while actually trying to sabotage the beverages. He supposed the Doctor had destroyed his tastebuds while forcing himself to chug down the dark liquid he desperately tried to pass as coffee, and now anything that actually had a decent enough flavor was unbearable.

The man hadn't so much as grimaced ever since assigning Stone the role of coffee making, so to see one of his previous pleasures again under such unexpected circumstances was slightly bittersweet. Mostly because they didn't really have time for this nonsense if they wanted to adhere to his schedule.

“What is this!?” Robotnik demanded.

“Uh. It's a latte, with goat milk.”

“It's delicious!”

What?

“What?”

“You must learn to recreate it, Agent Stone,” after moving the cup this way and that, like he was sampling a fine wine, the Doctor took a smaller sip. “It has be the goat milk.”

“I'll… get some for the lab?”

“See that you do. Now, you worthless waste of space, what are you doing standing there? We have places to go!”

The exhibition went… well, it happened, and that had to count for something. But Ivo Robotnik never made things easy. No, his sweet boss had decided to demonstrate one little drone’s capabilities by unleashing it on the buyer's security personnel.

The fact that one little robot could render ten men practically useless was, Stone had to admit, pretty convincing, but the buyer now had no security team available –they were alive, Stone thought, remembering vaguely the specifications he had read before the trip. The government might have deals and allies, but they weren't willing to share the most lethal weapons– and was pretty pissed about it.

“What's even the point of having them?” Robotnik argued. His accent was perfect as far as the agent could tell. While Stone could speak a fair share of languages, his pronunciations were just passable in most of them. “As I just showed you, my baby here can handle any threats better than any of your so-called bodyguards could ever dream of doing. If you do buy and I give them the command to safeguard your life, that is.”

Well, Stone suppressed a snort, that's a selling point.

The buyer didn't find it as amusing. Men who prided themselves on their authority and control resorted to shouts and insults way too quickly, Stone knew. His boss was no different, at least when it came to his only employee, but in that moment the Doctor just watched, bored, as the other man accused him of betraying the treaty and hostile conduct. Something about consequences. Stone was too focused watching his movements to pay attention to his words. He had, of course, considered the possibility of the buyer being a threat, and had contingency plans for him and his personnel. Since the Doctor made sure those wouldn't be a problem, Stone had even less to worry about now.

“Ugh,” Robotnik groaned, slumping dramatically. “I don't care. Will you be buying them or not?

Instead of replying, the man, clearly fed up, prepared to punch the Doctor. Stone had wanted to do that since the first day, but he hadn't acted on it! Seriously, you give a man an ounce of power… The agent intercepted the fist without trouble, and twisted the buyer's arm painfully for good measure.

“The Doctor asked you a question,” he added, secretly thrilling. The closest thing to violence he had been a part of in the last months were moments when the Doctor threw spare parts around distractedly and he had to dodge if any got too close. This was exciting!

Seemingly of the same opinion, the Doctor clapped quickly like a child who had been informed they would stop for ice cream on the way home, a huge smile on his face.

“See? All you need is a halfway competent bodyguard, and my babies can handle the rest,” the Doctor's voice was sweet and indulgent, as if introducing a new concept to a toddler. “Unfortunately for you, you can't have Agent Stone, but,” his smile turned sharp as he leaned closer. “You can have some drones.”

Suddenly feeling like this was a team effort, Stone twisted the arm further. The man whimpered.

“I'll… buy them,” he finally grunted.

“Good choice, you idiot,” returning to his casual tone and posture, Robotnik gestured for Stone to release his catch. He did, making sure to murmur a threat of his own first. “Buuut you did just try to attack me, so I have some extra conditions.”

The sense of accomplishment carried him all the way to the States, and not even the sight of his sad little desk could dampen his good mood.

Even Robotnik had been bubbly after the deal, possibly because he had somehow convinced the buyer to pay a monthly subscription for the software that Stone knew wouldn't do anything. The Doctor's inventions rarely required maintenance.

Despite not asking, Stone received an explanation regarding the one time someone had punched the Doctor (impressive that it was only once) and that it was always good to have alternative sources of income.

Robotnik had talked a lot, and he had laughed as well. The agent supposed this was the man at his best, his least angry and bitter and stressed. Had this been the norm, he thought he could have grown to tolerate his boss.

Unfortunately, things weren't like that, and they quickly settled back into their normal routine. Four months working for the man, Stone finally cracked and dedicated one workday to solve the Wi-Fi equation. It felt like admitting defeat, but he had a new goal and he needed YouTube tutorials to accomplish it.

He was trying to recreate the, apparently, perfect latte.

Once back, Stone had decided to leave his coffee maker in his place of work –he considered putting it in the breakroom, but the thought of other people using it made him squeamish, so instead he took some space in one of the storage rooms that were technically part of the lab– and prepared a latte. He bought goat milk and passed it on as a business expense. It hadn't been approved.

The Doctor drank it, but claimed something was missing.

Ten attempts later and having gotten no closer to his desired results, he found the little coffeeshop’s website and got the recipe from them.

It still didn't work.

Stone didn't care for the Doctor's satisfaction. It was clear the man would drink anything that was put in front of him, and while it was his job to keep him safe, he didn't care if he was happy. But the constant failure was getting to Stone and, at least, it was something to do. He had a goal, even if it was a ridiculous one.

In a desperate moment, he considered there was some particular quality to the milk of goats from Austria specifically. Perhaps something they ate? He placed his order, knowing he wouldn't be reimbursed and frankly not caring.

As always, the Doctor took his first sip distractedly, one hand still drawing some design for a new engineering wonder. Stone peeked at it. The smartest man in the world couldn't draw a straight line to save his life, and he seemed to have misplaced his ruler.

Looking around, the agent thought he saw it on the opposite table, although it had no reason to be there. Just as he was about to retrieve it, his boss spoke.

“Agent Stone.”

“Doctor.”

Robotnik made his chair turn until he was looking at his agent, latte raised in his hand like he was preparing for a toast.

“You, my dear sycophant, have outdone yourself. This,” he raised the cup even more. “Is the best thing I have tasted in my life!”

His tone was aggressive, as per usual, but Stone found himself frowning for a different reason.

“Sycophant?”

He didn't… he wasn't–

“Now that you have finally gotten around to solving the equation, you can google the words you don't understand. I expect you to do so in seven seconds or less, it'll make things much easier around here. Oh, I'll even give you one of my holoscreens to increase efficiency. The smaller ones, don't get too excited,” still not pausing for breath, Robotnik turned the chair once more, discarding his previous design in favor of a new one. “Of course, you'll need something to control it, so maybe…”

His ranting dissolved into mumbles. Still stunned, Stone handed him the missing ruler.

“Here, Doctor,” unsure of why, his voice sounded small.

Robotnik paused his mumbling for only a second, taking the ruler. He didn't smile, but he snorted.

“Good job.”

The Doctor gave Stone a watch.

It was unassuming, unlike most of his designs. No one would be able to tell it was even one of his creations if not for the IR engraved on its back, letters pressed to the skin of Stone's wrist.

It felt a little bit like a leash, and a little bit like a key. It also rendered his old laptop obsolete, as he now carried a supercomputer everywhere he went. He looked at it with suspicion immediately.

“Of course it has a lot of hidden functions I'm not telling you about,” Robotnik informed him, seeing his reaction. “You're free to try and find them, but know that it will explode if tampered with. Make sure your attempts are executed here so I have something to laugh at when it blows up in your face.”

Stone didn't try to tamper with the watch, in the lab or otherwise. He could deduce what other functions it had just by knowing his boss and his controlling attitude. Some sort of tracking device, obviously. Some filters in place that would alert Robotnik if Stone looked up something suspicious. A direct communication line, perhaps one sided? An electrocution function, for potential punishment. Surely a microphone and camera.

Defiant, the agent never took it off, and life continued.

He had to admit, knowing (thinking?) himself constantly monitored added a little thrill to everything he did. Stone was loyal, had never betrayed one of his employers, no matter how much he might have wanted to, and not even Ivo Fucking Robotnik had been able to change that. So, in theory, there was nothing to fear, nothing his boss could discover that might put Stone in danger. He didn't like the man, but he was good at his job.

Still, the possibility of repercussions added a layer of tension to his every move. Stone thought about the panopticon and the idea that one became their own watcher while not knowing if someone was actually observing. He didn't care much for sociology, but at least he wasn't bored anymore.

Which was good because Melissa apparently didn't have a tragic backstory. Good relationship with her parents, siblings all alive and well, not even a history of bullying. Damn.

While cleaning the lab's floor one day, Stone heard the Doctor snap his fingers, and he straightened, looking towards him.

“Did you see that?” Robotnik asked.

“Nothing out of the ordinary, sir,” Stone admitted.

“Not something unusual, no. This,” he snapped his fingers again. “I can do this and you jump to attention like a well trained dog.”

Deep breaths, agent. Deep breaths.

“... Yes, sir.”

“Loathe as I am to admit it, in this insignificant aspect you are superior to my machines,” Robotnik patted the shell of a prototype he had been calling badnik. The Doctor already had plenty of drones called that, but this was, apparently, a new model. “But not anymore!”

Turning around with a giant smile, Robotnik wiggled his gloved fingers. There seemed to be some buttons incorporated.

“Uh…”

“With my control gloves, I can command the entirety of my technology remotely, without even a spoken order,” demonstrating, he pressed something that made the display on the new badnik glow red. “I can even control the babies I have magnanimously allowed others to use, should they turn against me. And I can do this!”

Making a childish phone gesture with his hand, Robotnik watched as Stone’s watch began to buzz. It had never done so before, and the agent startled for a moment. Then, hesitantly, he pressed a green button –the only option displaying on the screen– and lifted his wrist closer to his face.

“... Hello?”

“Ha!” Robotnik exclaimed triumphantly, and his voice echoed from his watch as well.

Stone couldn't help but smile. The Doctor was always energetic and excited about his creations, but never before had he tried to show his advances to Stone. If the agent wanted to know what was happening in this lab, he usually had to read the reports and pay attention at meetings.

He much preferred this version, less formal and much more exciting.

“That's amazing, Doctor!”

“Of course it is, barnacle!” Despite his words, the Doctor seemed pleased by the praise. “But as amazing as I am, make sure to not mention it to anyone else! You never want the government to know too much.” 

“Understood, sir.”

Lattes with steamed Austrian goat milk were reserved for special occasions, whenever Stone felt like his boss was in a particularly foul mood. However, he reasoned that day, it could also be a celebratory drink.

Meetings next to the Doctor were, perhaps, Stone's favorite part of the job. Robotnik was a recluse who didn't do well with orders, so the fact that he was forced to go out and talk to people was already a recipe for disaster.

The fact that the man had mastered the art of insulting people in the most confusing way possible was a bonus.

Although Stone wasn't in the habit of questioning his superiors, he would be lying if he said it wasn't satisfying to see someone who would, and in hilarious ways at that. Ivo Robotnik was a lot of things, maybe none of them good, but he undoubtedly wasn't stupid, unlike most higher-ups at G.U.N. Agent Stone couldn't afford to say as much, not to his colleagues and certainly not to their faces. But his boss could.

It was only years of training that allowed him to keep a neutral expression.

It also didn't hurt that, perhaps in an effort to present a unified front, perhaps because he could insult Stone whenever he wanted, Robotnik never turned his mocking towards his agent during these meetings.

“Don't you think so, Agent Stone?”

The question froze him. The Doctor had just finished a verbal attack five minutes in the making to one of Stone's former charges, a woman who had alternated between racist remarks and inappropriate innuendos the entire three days Stone had been assigned to protect her. The agent despised her. That didn't mean he had ever made a single negative comment about her. That was not how it worked.

Helpless, he looked at his current boss. This could be career ending. This could get him in so much trouble. This could earn him many new, powerful enemies. It was not worth it.

But the Doctor just arched an eyebrow at him. This was a test of some kind. Your move. Stone took a deep breath.

“Very much so, Doctor,” he said, calmly.

The woman was shouting something, boiling in anger, no doubt. But the Doctor ignored her, and only smirked in his directions. Stone heard those words again, for once without the usual rage he always felt when thinking about their first meeting.

This one's mine.

The next time they had to leave the country it was, indeed, to no man's land with the purpose of blowing some idiots up. Stone applied himself to the task of security with as much fervor as the first time, making sure to account for the whims of his boss as much as possible. Fearing he'd had to import yet another ingredient from a very specific country, he prepared an espresso right before landing, and the Doctor drank it without complaint.

All his planning, all of his calculations and meticulous research… and they were still ambushed. Stone guessed he couldn't really account for opportunists and improvisation. The Doctor still wouldn't let him hear the end of it.

“Absolute imbecile! Waste of atoms, you complete, incompetent moron!” His boss’s voice resonated in the tiny… basement?

Stone wasn't sure of where they had been dragged. There were two cells, but it didn't feel like any kind of contention center, more like an improvised dungeon. They had been placed next to each other, and as soon as whatever drug they had been administered allowed him to, the Doctor began shouting. The agent's head was pounding as he looked at his oh-so-beloved boss through the bars separating their cells. At least he seemed to be unharmed.

“I'll get us out, sir,” Stone assured him, maybe for the millionth time.

“You got us in, you idiot! AND they took my gloves! Who did you tell, Stone?! How did they know what they were capable of if not for your big–!?”

“BECAUSE THEY HAVE VERY VISIBLE BUTTONS IN THEM!” Stone shook the bars, wishing he was strangling his boss instead. “It's not rocket science!”

“How DARE you!? They are far more advanced than a simple rocket!”

“Doctor, this is not helping!”

“Why should I help you do your job!? I don't ask for your input while changing the course of history with my inventions!” 

“Oh, you–” a distant sound alerted the agent of an approaching person. One of their captors, no doubt. “Shh, Doctor, someone is coming this way. Listen–”

“Oh, finally! I was dying to tell someone what I think of this PATHETIC kidnapping scheme!” Robotnik shouted, clearly hoping to be heard.

“Doctor, shut up!”

“You shut up! Once we get out of here, Stone, I'm gonna use that watch of yours to–”

“The watch!” Quickly, Stone looked at his wrist. The weight on it was so familiar that he had failed to notice until then, but his watch was still there. The Doctor saw it as well, and he pressed his face between the bars in order to yell at him more effectively.

“You really are a total idiot!”

“You didn't think of it either,” he mumbled as he quickly removed it for the first time since receiving it. Then, Stone took one of Robotnik's hands and placed the watch there. “I don't know all the functions, sir. If there's anything that can be done to help us here, please just–”

Just then, the door at the end of the stairs opened, and unhurried footsteps could be heard approaching. Stone made sure Robotnik had a good grasp on the watch before sucker punching him on the stomach.

Just as planned, all the air left his boss and he couldn't make a sound. Taking his chance, Stone pushed him so he fell to the floor, right on time for their captors to come into his field of vision.

It couldn't be helped. The Doctor didn't know when to shut his mouth, and he had a talent for saying things that made people want to hurt him. This time, however, they were not in a controlled environment, nor could Stone step in and stop any attack from behind bars. However, he only had a few seconds to grab this man's attention before he noticed the figure on the floor was actually twitching and mentally cursing his assistant to hell and back.

The man was built like a bear, because of course he was.

“Ah,” Stone greeted, trying to imitate the Robotnik smirk that always infuriated him so. “You're the buffon who caught us, then. I couldn't wait to see what kind of primitive lowlife had conceived such a moronic plan! Congratulations! This is the worst anyone's ever done it!”

The man-bear focused his eyes on him, frowning, and Stone forced himself to keep the smirk in place.

Here we go.

As far as interrogations go, this one had a bit too much beating and far too little actually asking questions, not that Stone would answer anything. 

The problem was that they had started by shooting him on the legs, and although it was a clean enough way to ensure he wouldn't try to run away, it also meant that Stone was losing blood way too fast for comfort. The constant punching and kicking was less of a problem, but it didn't help with the main one.

Strangely enough, Stone also missed the weight of his watch, his wrist looking weirdly discolored without it. Or perhaps something was broken.

I hope the Doctor does something, if he can. At least it's not him here. No amount of latte would be able to cheer him up after a beating like this. The man has only been punched once before.

When Stone had thought this job would be a death sentence, this wasn't exactly what he had in mind. Still, it was better than dying of boredom, though to be fair, he hadn't felt bored in quite a while. Not since getting his watch, at least. He missed his watch.

The watch is fine, the Doctor has it. The Doctor is fine, he has the watch.

Blood loss was making him delirious, tricking him into thinking he… Actually cared for his boss’s safety, more than in a professional context. It was because Stone loved change, and the Doctor was in constant motion, never adhering to a routine, to a playlist, not even to a language. And he was a man who wanted to change the world. Definitely for the worst but… he would change it nonetheless. Stone was sure he would.

Stone loved change so much.

The only thing Robotnik seemed to stick to were his loneliness and his machines, and he had decided to share a bit of those with Stone. Because Stone was his.

I'm definitely losing my mind, he snorted, a new kick breaking some other rib. Those were easy enough to heal. I could swear I saw a badnik…

Huh.

I didn't know the watch could be used to control the badniks.

He was definitely making the Doctor a latte once he recovered.

As it turns out, Stone only survived because there was a blood donor on hand.

He thought the Doctor would want to keep his involvement a secret, and tactfully refrained from asking questions, but of course the man wanted to gloat. Universal donor, he said. The possibility that the Doctor didn't know why Stone had been chosen crossed his mind for the first time. I saved your sorry excuse for a life so now you owe it to me.

“Guess I'm doubly yours now, Doctor,” Stone conceded with a smile. He could blame the sedatives if necessary. Or perhaps receiving blood from a madman could drive one insane too.

“Make it triple, since my heroic rescue also counts as saving your life. I have to do everything around here.”

The doctors advised him to stay at the hospital for a few days at least, as his condition was still pretty delicate. The Doctor, however, was itching to return to his lab –especially now that he had successfully blown some people up, even if not the originally intended idiots– so they left, and the jet pilot didn't even ask why he looked like someone had tried to inflict lingchi on him. She really was discreet.

When Stone woke up at some point during the flight, his watch was back on his wrist. He only had half a second to look at it before Robotnik explained.

“You, Agent Stone, received an email from Walters 28 minutes ago. I read it. They're offering you an opportunity,” the Doctor's voice was mocking. “To be relocated and assigned to some other dead-end job. Bla bla bla PTSD bla bla bla served valiantly, bla bla. As if they didn't train all their little agents to withstand worse .”

“No training can prepare us for you, sir.”

“Of course not, there's nothing like me,” the Doctor's leg bounced up and down where he sat, very very close to Stone. He was particular about touch, which was fair. Machines had no boundaries to enforce, but they also wouldn't touch him without being ordered to do it. He expected the same from humans, Stone had learned. “Regardless, use your one functional finger and your six remaining brain cells to send a reply declining the offer.”

“Right away, sir.”

“And don't think your sycophancy is going to save you! I haven't forgotten how you messed up despite having one job, how you raised your voice at your superior and then hit him in the stomach right before kicking him to the ground. ”

“... Yes, sir.”

“I hope you have no loved ones waiting for you, because they will cry once they see what I have planned for you, Agent Stone.”

“None, sir,” he replied honestly. He wasn't actually worried. The Doctor's punishment seemed to involve a lot of screaming, which was fine, and the man wouldn't wait for him to recover only to leave him out of commission again.

“Ah,” funnily, the Doctor seemed to deflate at that, like he was disappointed he wouldn't get to traumatize his family. “Orphan?”

“No. Well, now I am, I suppose. I, uh, I killed them.”

Robotnik blinked at him.

“Not surprising,” he lied, clearly stunned. “It seems like G.U.N. only hires people if they have a sob story to offer.”

“Except Melissa,” Stone corrected.

“Who's Melissa? Btzz , no, don't answer that, I don't care. Cease all communication with her immediately.”

“Of course, sir.”

“And send that damn email.”

Stone did. He didn't want anything to change, after all.

Both as a way to celebrate his recovery (he could stand now!) and to thank Robotnik for the rescue (and the blood transfusion) the first thing Stone did that day when arriving at the lab was steam some Austrian goat milk.

It was also the one year anniversary of him being assigned to the Doctor, but he doubted his boss would care, so he only thought about it a little while preparing the latte.

Robotnik arrived five minutes, and Stone smiled radiantly at the usual "Agent Stone" from his dear boss.

“Doctor,” he greeted back. “Here's your latte.”

Robotnik turned towards him and extended his hand, taking the cup.

He accompanied the movement with a little robot noise.

Btzzz.

Oh, Stone thought. That's…

The mechanical movement and accompanying sound repeated, this time while the Doctor took the cup to his lips and drank.

So cute–

“Ding !” Robotnik exclaimed, as a form of approval, if the agent had to guess. “Good job, Agent Stone.”

I will stay right here forever.

“Thank you, Doctor!”

I will dedicate my life to this man.