Chapter Text
Morning sunlight seeped gently through the sheer white curtains, casting a golden hue across the small, familiar space they called home. The apartment was quiet, save for the distant hum of traffic and the soft rustling of sheets.
Sonic stirred. His eyes fluttered open, lashes brushing against the pillow as he yawned quietly. The warmth beside him was comforting—constant—and he turned his head slightly to see the one person who had reshaped the way he viewed forever.
Shadow.
The dark hedgehog lay still, breathing evenly, face softened in sleep. There was something disarming about seeing him like this—unguarded, peaceful, his usually sharp features relaxed in the morning calm. Sonic felt his heart ache in that familiar, tender way. He reached out gently, fingertips brushing through Shadow’s quills with the lightest touch.
Shadow murmured something under his breath and instinctively shifted closer, nuzzling his face into Sonic’s chest like it was the most natural thing in the world. Sonic let out a quiet chuckle, eyes fond.
Chaos, he loved him.
This quiet, slow moment of skin against skin and breath against breath—was everything he ever wanted. He could’ve stayed like this forever, wrapped in warm sheets and gentle love. But today wasn’t just any other day. Because today, was something else entirely.
Sonic’s gaze shifted toward the nightstand, where a small velvet box sat partially hidden behind his phone. His stomach twisted. He could almost hear the quiet click of the box opening in his mind. It had taken him weeks to find that ring—plain, elegant, without diamonds or frills. Just a simple golden band, unassuming but meaningful.
Something that said: This is us. This is real.
And now… all that was left was to make the moment count.
He exhaled slowly, giving Shadow one last look, soaking in the warmth of him—the faint rise and fall of his chest, the way morning light kissed his cheeks. Then, with careful hands, Sonic slid out from under the covers and let his feet touch the cool wooden floor.
His movements were quiet but purposeful. Today had to be perfect. He had a blueprint, after all. A carefully mapped-out plan filled with heartfelt steps, each one crafted to build up to the moment he’d ask the question that would change everything.
He carefully took the small box that held the ring, turning it over in his hands once before tucking it away in a spot he was certain Shadow would never think to look. It had to stay hidden—at least for now. He couldn’t risk ruining the surprise, not after all the planning he’d done.
Their apartment was a quiet sort of intimate—lived-in but not messy, sunlight spilling across framed photos on the wall, a worn blanket tossed over the back of the couch. It smelled faintly of Shadow’s cologne and Sonic’s shampoo. Home, in every way.
They had been living together for some time now—a decision born not out of convenience but love. A shared life, a shared rhythm. Waking up side by side, brushing shoulders in the living room, stealing kisses during grocery runs. The kind of life Sonic had never thought he’d want, until it was with Shadow.
But wanting wasn’t enough anymore.
They’d been together for years. They had weathered arguments and comforted through silence. They had held hands during thunderstorms, cried together in quiet corners, laughed until their stomachs hurt. And now, Sonic wanted something more. He wanted permanence.
So he made a plan.
Step One: Breakfast in Bed.
Simple. Romantic. Classic. He’d gone through video tutorials, taken mental notes, practiced a little in secret—just enough to hope for passable pancakes with sliced fruit as toppings, and warm tea. Shadow’s favorite. He wanted to start the day with something sweet. Something thoughtful.
He stood in front of the stove, pouring the premade batter into the pan with delicate precision, afraid that the slightest movement would turn into a big mess. The sizzle met his ears and he breathed out slowly. When the pancake didn’t immediately erupt into flames or start smoking, Sonic allowed himself a small, victorious smile.
So far, so good, he thought.
He moved to slice the fruit next—strawberries, bananas, and a handful of blueberries. His hands weren’t steady, but he tried to make the slices neat, arranging them carefully on a nearby plate. Everything had to be just right.
But, of course, it didn’t last.
The moment he returned back to the stove, he was supposed to flip the pancake to cook the other side. Though, the pancake refused to flip cleanly. When Sonic tried, it tore—half of it folding messily while the other half stuck like glue to the pan. He frowned as the edges began to burn, filling the air with the bitter scent of charred batter. With a sigh of disappointment, he scraped the ruined mess into the trash.
Still, Sonic wasn’t one to give up.
To be fair, he was never the cook in the relationship—it was always Shadow. But today? Today was supposed to be special. His special day. There was no way he was going to let Shadow lift a finger, not when Sonic had a plan to follow.
So then, he poured another round of batter. Then another. And another. But each one met a different kind of disaster—too raw, too crispy, too lopsided, too stubborn to come loose. The kitchen slowly became a battlefield of discarded pancakes, and full of chaos.
He stared at the growing pile of failure and groaned, ruffling his quills in frustration. This was supposed to be perfect, he reminded himself, rubbing his temples.
But before he could even bother to move an inch, soft footsteps creaked from the staircase. His ears twitched. Panic flickered in his chest.
Oh no.
Shadow was awake.
Sonic’s eyes darted around the kitchen. Burnt pancakes in the trash. Fruit half-sliced. Tea still cold. He didn’t even get the tray ready. He was supposed to surprise him in bed, not get caught in the middle of culinary failure.
Step One? A complete disaster.
Shadow appeared at the bottom of the stairs, still wearing his sleep shirt, quills slightly tousled from sleep, eyes heavy-lidded but sharp.
“…You’re up early,” he murmured, voice low and groggy.
Sonic spun around and instinctively blocked the stove with his entire body. “Oh, yeah..! Just, uh, trying something!”
Shadow rubbed at his eyes and gave him a look—unimpressed and amused all at once. He scanned the room: splattered batter, poorly cut fruit, the lingering scent of something burnt.
He took a step forward, arms crossed. “Trying to burn the apartment down?”
Sonic grinned nervously, scratching the back of his neck. Shadow nudged him to the side with practiced ease and peered over his shoulder at the trashed attempts. He raised a single brow.
“What are you even doing?”
“Uh…” Sonic stalled, searching for a lie that didn’t sound ridiculous. “Cooking?”
Shadow sighed, brushing past him again. “Let me cook.”
“No—!” Sonic blurted, too loudly. Shadow paused mid-step and looked at him, brow raised.
“I mean—no,” Sonic said again, softer this time. “Let me do it.”
Shadow stared at him a long moment. Sonic couldn’t tell what he was thinking. But eventually, he just sighed and turned to the fridge.
“I’m not leaving,” he muttered, grabbing a carton of eggs.
Sonic’s eyes widened. “Wait, what? Hey—no fair! I said I was gonna do it!”
“I heard you,” Shadow replied calmly, already reaching for a mixing bowl and setting it down on the counter. He began cracking the eggs, unbothered, as if Sonic hadn’t just tried to protest.
He was making a fresh batch of batter—starting all over again after Sonic had wasted the first round with all his failed attempts. “I’m just making sure you don’t burn the house down in the process,” Shadow added, not even looking up.
Sonic slumped dramatically against the counter. “You really think I’m that hopeless?”
“Yes,” Shadow said without hesitation.
Sonic let out an exaggerated groan. “Rude.”
Shadow didn’t argue. Instead, he added milk and flour to the bowl, mixing slowly. The kitchen slowly began to smell less like failure and more like breakfast.
“Fine,” Sonic muttered under his breath, returning to the other side of the counter. “I’ll continue slicing the fruit.”
“Better,” Shadow replied dryly, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips.
Despite the failure, despite the mess, despite how none of it was going according to plan—Sonic couldn’t help but feel a little lighter with Shadow next to him, handling the chaos with that quiet steadiness he always had.
In the end, Shadow did all the cooking. Sonic sulked nearby, defeated, arms crossed as he watched. Then, with a pout, he muttered, “When are you gonna teach me how to cook?”
Shadow, busy plating the last pancake, didn’t look up. “Even if I did, I’m certain it would end in disaster.”
Sonic huffed, puffing his cheeks out as he pressed a hand over his chest dramatically. “Wow. You wound me.”
Shadow ignored his dramatic acts as he continued adding the fruit, then poured tea into their mugs. He carried the plates to the table, every motion calm and precise.
Then, he turned back with a soft look—one that made Sonic forget every failed pancake and half-burnt dream.
“Let’s eat breakfast now. Shall we, love?”
Sonic blinked. Then smiled. Not the grin he gave the world, but the smaller one—tired, warm, and real.
He walked over and sat down across from Shadow, cheeks slightly pink.
“Fine. But I’m flipping pancakes next time. Watch me.”
Shadow chuckled lowly. “If I must.”
And just like that, Step One might’ve completely failed—but at least they still ended up here: together, at the table, sharing warm food and quiet smiles.
Sonic watched as Shadow sipped his tea, eyes half-lidded from lingering sleep, posture relaxed in the golden morning light. The scent of fresh pancakes and sweet fruit filled the space between them. It wasn’t what he planned. Not even close. But the way Shadow looked now—content, soft around the edges—maybe it didn’t matter that the first step flopped.
Still, Sonic wasn’t ready to give up. Not when he had a plan. Not when he wanted this day to mean something.
He tapped his fingers against his thigh, mind already racing. Step One: breakfast in bed—failed, due to a slight… pancake disaster. But maybe Step Two would be different. It had to be. He had spent weeks, or maybe even months—he lost count while planning this, laying out every move like a map, like a mission. His plan wasn’t going to crash and burn on the first hurdle. No way.
He stole another glance at Shadow, who was busy cutting into his pancakes without a care in the world. Blissfully unaware.
Sonic smiled to himself. Good. Let him be. Let him stay in the dark a little longer.
There were still more steps to go until he pops out the big question. Which means, more chances to show his love—properly, this time.
And maybe, just maybe, he could perfect Step Two.