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There were moments when Stone did not like working for the doctor. One such moment was when he was forced to be separated from him, for example whenever his security clearance wasn't quite high enough for a conference or when it was 'just' a lecture at some university. During those times, Stone was expected to wait, for example, outside whatever doors would be between him and his boss.
Sometimes, though, it was even worse. Sometimes he was sent to some waiting room. Sometimes he was dismissed for an entire day.
He never liked that.
If he had to be separated from the doctor then he would much rather spent his time waiting for him at the edge of the closest distance possible. Like, standing right before those stupid doors that kept him outside.
Not so much on this particular day. The doctor's schedule had been set for several weeks: he had been expected to consult during a UN conference on the reconstruction of some war-ravaged country in Eastern Europe. And despite Stone's repeated requests to be present for the entirety, Robotnik had agreed with General Walters - much to Stone's disapproval.
Because General Walters had ordered all agents to wait in their hotel.
And Stone hadn't even been allowed to wallow in misery in the privacy of his room, no, the other agents had insisted he accompany them to a round of cards and alcohol and gossip.
Stone had never cared for such gatherings. He did not care for the other agents, he did not particularly care for alcohol and he had no interest in their silly gossip. But, this time it would hopefully distract him from his loneliness. In the course of three short years, Stone had forgotten how to live without the doctor. And more importantly, he had forgotten how to want to live without the doctor.
He watched the chatting agents around the table like an outsider.
They were gathered in one of the other agents' room. A table had been dragged into the middle, chairs put around it. Beer bottles, cards, money, an ashtray and snacks littered over the surface in the course of four hours and Stone was not enjoying himself.
The agents around him had been exchanging news about their lives - both professional and private. Some were complaining about their assignments, some were complaining about their spouses. Most were just complaining about anything they could think of.
He listened half-heartedly, playing cards and losing only enough money to keep all suspicious off him. His jacket hung over the chair behind him. His sleeves rolled up. Tie a little loosened.
The cards in his hand were irrelevant. He could count himself to victory with any cards dealt to him. Numbers were flowing through his head when he suddenly heard his name:
"So, Stone", Agent Haworth grinned around a half-finished cigarette, "Your turn. We haven't heard anything from you yet and let's be honest, we gotta use this chance of you being here. You hardly hang around with us these days. Come on, dish."
"Yeah", Agent Woo was quick to pile on - oddly quick, Stone noticed, "How's work with the doctor treating you?"
Stone barely looked up, pretending to sort his cards: "It is treating me well. I am still very grateful that I've been assigned to the doctor. Working with him is an honour."
"Oh come on!", Haworth groaned, "Does he have you wired? Be honest!"
Stone sighed and leaned back in his chair: "I am being honest."
"You're no fun, Stone", Woo shook his head and topped off Stone's glass, "Hopefully this'll loosen your tongue a little."
To prove a point or possibly dominance over these utter cretins, Stone glared at Woo, took his glass and downed his shot in one go. He did not particularly enjoy alcohol but he had by necessity a very high tolerance for it. He was an agent.
Woo grinned as if he'd gotten what he wanted.
"When's the last time he punched you?", Agent Dobson purported worry, "I heard he physically abused his previous agents."
Stone put a card down.
"It's not a rumour", Haworth said, "Jorquera spent three weeks in hospital."
Yes, because he had dropped a highly volatile liquid on his foot. That had not been the doctor's fault. He had even warned Jorquera to be careful with the beakers.
"And Robbins had been shot."
Yes. While protecting the doctor. That had been his job.
"The lunatic cut open Yang's arm!"
Yes. Because the idiot had been bitten by a venomous spider while trekking through the Brazilian rainforest. The doctor had saved his life.
"Stone? What say you? Does he hit you?"
"No."
"Whipple and Klein saw him shove you against a wall in the copy-room."
Yes. Stone had to force down a shudder at the memory. He shifted a little, leaning forward onto his elbows. His pulse quickened. "He did not hurt me."
"Whatever you say", Haworth groused, entirely unconvinced. "What's the lunatic up to these days?"
"His work is classified." As all of the agents would know. "Though he is currently consulting on the UN's efforts for reconstruction in Eastern Europe."
Woo topped off his glass and he drowned it again. If they planned to get him drunk, they'd be in for a rude awakening.
"Fine. Then tell us what you do in your off time? Still going to those motocross rallies you like so much?"
Stone loosened his tie a little more. He felt too hot. "When I get the chance, yes."
"I heard the nutcase keeps you on your feet around the clock", Woo nudged.
Stone wished. He put down two more cards. "I enjoy working on his projects. I do not mind the over-time. Card, please."
For a while they let him be. He won this round just to piss them off. And the next round too. Then he had to rub his eyes. He felt tired and too hot. His thoughts were swirling. Husby offered him a bottle of water, which he accepted gratefully.
Another half-hour later had Stone sweaty, nibbling on a mostly smoked cigarette he had bummed from Haworth and losing his games.
*
When Robotnik was finally released from playing good little pet-genius to all those helpless fools, he felt drained. His soul was screaming for a latte and some much needed peace and quiet. His hotel room beckoned him. The double-doors to the conference hall had barely fallen shut behind him, when he lifted his wrist to look at his watch and check on his agent.
And he immediately frowned.
Something wasn't right. Stone's heart-rate was too elevated. His body-temperature was too high. What the hell was his henchman doing?
Robotnik hurried down the corridor and put a single ear-bud in his ear. With a quick tapping sequence he pulled up the audio feed from his agent's wristwatch. He needed to know at once what kind of trouble his silly barnacle had gotten himself into!
Really, he had left him alone for a handful of hours and he went and got himself drugged! The question was: who had gotten their dirty hands on his agent!
The channel opened and Robotnik nearly lost his shit in the middle of a UN corridor.
*
"He's the best", Stone grinned and threw another card down, "Just last week he thought up and built a drone-system that would revolutionise transports to the ISS. As a late afternoon-project. Off the clock."
"Not what we wanted to hear, Stone", Haworth was losing his patience.
Woo had sunk his face into his palms: "How can he be so whipped by that deranged megalomaniac?"
"Maybe drugs?"
"You mean drugs like we gave him so that he'll tell us what happens in the doctor's evil lair? He doesn't respond to drugs!"
Husby frowned: "I wouldn't say that. He's pretty out of it. Maybe it's some kind of deep-trained reflex? Like when POWs only recite their name and rank and stuff?"
Haworth tossed his cards and waved a hand: "Give him more!"
Husby nodded and immediately passed Stone another water bottle: "Here Stone, have some water."
Stone drank half of it in one go and chuckled: "Thanks. I'm parched."
Woo leaned toward him then, speaking as if to a five-year-old: "Stone. Tell us why you're not fleeing the hills? Why are you working for that crazy bastard? GUN offered you several better positions. Why did you turn that down?"
"I love working for the doctor. It's an incredible honour and I'll stay with him as long as he'll have me."
Haworth drummed his fingers on the table: "Isn't he, I dunno, violent?"
"No."
"Abusive?"
"No."
"What about boundaries?"
They received no answer aside from a dreamy smile. Woo threw his hands about: "Useless."
Haworth pulled Stone's chair around so that he could better stare at the drugged agent: "Alright. We get it. You're the lunatic's freaky bitch. Now focus, Stone. Walters wants to know what the two of you get up to in Robotnik's lab. Way past your hours."
"The doctor shouldn't be interrupted when he's in the middle of delicate work. I do not mind staying longer to assist him."
"Is he working on the prototype? Or something else? That thing should have been submitted two weeks ago. What is he doing?"
"Improvements", Stone responded vaguely.
"Improvements?"
Stone nodded and nearly lost his balance. "He is just so brilliant!"
All the other agents groaned and threw their hands about. They were still arguing amongst themselves how to get useful information from Stone, when the door to the room suddenly exploded inward. A cloud of opaque smoke billowed from the corridor. Red laser-lights flashed through the air, the whirring of high-powered gears could be heard, and then a dozen of elliptical drones slowly floated into view.
The agents immediately started screaming all over each other.
Those were without a doubt doctor Robotnik's drones.
*
Finding Stone had not been a problem. His agent had been equipped with several trackers - some Stone was aware of, some not so much. The location had confused Robotnik for a moment, though. He had not expected GUN agents to ambush his henchman.
But the blubbering fools now quivering at his feet were GUN agents. He vaguely recalled some of their bland faces.
In the end, it did not matter.
It did not matter who these imbeciles were.
They had laid hands upon his sycophant.
Their lives' were forfeit.
Which was why he turned his focus to the solely critical matter: Stone. His agent was lounging on a chair, half-way slumped down on it. His head hung down, chin nearly touching his chest. Eyes closed. He wasn't asleep but definitely not altogether awake.
Robotnik slowly knelt between him and pulled the chair so that it was facing him: "Agent Stone."
The movement threatened to topple the man off his seat and roused him into a more wakeful state. He blinked a few times, looking about, confused and disoriented. Then his eyes fell upon the doctor and his hazy expression melted into a brilliant if drunk smile: "Doctor! I missed you!"
Robotnik held his waist, preventing him from falling: "How much did you have to drink?"
"Only three shots of Tequila", Stone grinned, "I think. Woo kept filling my glass."
"I see", Robotnik looked at the bottles and glasses on the table. He had his badniks collect everything. "Did you drink anything else? Eat anything?"
"Only water", Stone nodded and nearly lost his balance, "and some Nachos."
The badniks were putting everything into sample bags. Robotnik kept one arm on his agent's shoulder, holding him upright, while he sniffed at a glass before it too was locked into a plastic bag. The smell of potent alcohol was overshadowing any hint at other drugs.
"Do you think you can walk?", the doctor frowned sceptically.
"Naturally, sir!"
But as soon as Stone put weight onto his feet, his balance forsook him and Robotnik had him leaning against his chest, holding him up. He sighed dramatically: "Really, Stone. Can you be any more useless?"
"I'm sorry, doctor", the agent's drunken smile fell and he tried to focus his pleading eyes on the doctor, "I didn't mean to be a burden." His head fell against the man's shoulder, eyes drooping.
"Don't fall asleep on me, agent!", Robotnik shook him and began moving them toward the door, "Come! Walk! You're too heavy to be carried all the way."
In the end, there was no other way, though. Stone kept tripping over his own feet, clinging to the doctor. Robotnik put his agent's arm over his shoulders and held him vertical by the waist. The distance to his own room seemed suddenly endless. He considered simply knocking the other out because an unconscious henchman would probably have been easier to navigate than this grabbing, grappling, half-asleep drunkard.
Stone kept stumbling and his uncoordinated movements threatened the doctor's own balance.
"I didn't even want to go the poker-game but they kept badgering me", he explained sleepily, "and I hoped it would distract me."
"I don't need to know any of this", Robotnik rolled his eyes.
"I would rather have gone with you, doctor", Stone sighed wistfully, "even if I had to sit outside the conference hall. Would have been happy about that."
"Of course, you doormat."
"I won most of the rounds, though", the agent snickered, "Didn't even notice I was counting cards. Idiots."
Robotnik dragged them from the lift into the corridor of his room's floor. By then, Stone was mostly being carried, hanging from the doctor's shoulder. "Would you move your feet! You absolute nitwit!"
"All they wanted to know was about your work..."
"I heard, agent. No need to repeat anything."
"I told them nothing but the vaguest things."
"I know."
"And how brilliant you are, doctor." Stone was now hugging himself against his boss, sighing contently.
They finally reached Robotnik's suite. It took a little fumbling to both open the door with a key-card and hold squirming agent-weight upright. Eventually the lock clicked and the door fell open.
Robotnik's suite was a lot more luxurious than Stone's hotel room - naturally. He was, after all, the master scientist. And the larger space afforded more room for his badniks. His trusted little eggs had already gathered around, making use of the open windows. They put their collection on the glass table before the couch.
Stone was still murmuring adoring nonsense into Robotnik's ear, failing to cooperate in the endeavour of putting him onto that couch.
When Robotnik finally managed to drop him there, the man stretched and rubbed his back and spent a good minute ranting about the audacity of having to play nursemaid to his own assistant.
Stone was half-lying among cushions, looking dreamily up at him: "You're so handsome, sir."
Robotnik halted for a moment, regarding his agent with an ill-served air. That was new. He sighed. "Take your clothes off, agent."
"Yes, sir!"
It was hard to say how much of this unconditional obedience came from Stone himself, the alcohol or some other drug. Robotnik watched him closely. Thankfully, there wasn't much self-injury the man could do in this configuration. Still, when Stone attempted to shove his slacks down over his shoes, the doctor had to intervene.
"Absolutely useless", he kept muttering under his breath. Nevertheless, he tipped his henchman back onto the couch and made quick work of taking off his shoes and trousers. He suffered Stone's lovelorn looks as he loosened and removed the tied. And also as he unbuttoned the white dress-shirt and pulled it off. He sighed for the umpteenth time at the absurdity of the situation and pulled Stone back onto his feet.
"To the bathroom", he ordered, "and make yourself throw up over the sink."
"Yes, sir!", Stone grinned, saluted and swivelled around. Or attempted to because, as expected, he stumbled over his own feet and had to be caught. "Thanks, doctor!"
Robotnik felt an on-coming headache at the frequency of having to roll his eyes. Hands on the hips of his henchman, he navigated the two of them to his en-suite bathroom. Having successfully positioned his charge before the sink, he pointed: "Purge."
Stone smiled, nodded and then looked down at the drain. Without doing anything.
Robotnik had to breathe deeply. He counted inwardly. From twenty backwards. Technically, none of this was Stone's fault. He knew exactly who was to blame. He would get to that particular stain later. But the fact remained that he wanted nothing more than to strangle his agent. Briefly.
"Stone."
"Yes, sir."
"Don't make me do it."
And then the fucker said: "I don't have a gag-reflex."
Robotnik thanked Turing that they were alone and no one witnessed his expression. It took him several seconds to respond. By then he had successfully re-equipped his glare: "And you are sure of that because of a medical condition? Or recreational activities?"
Stone grinned languidly: "From sex."
"Then let me enlighten you", Robotnik growled before he grabbed his agent's head in one hand and unceremoniously shoved two of his fingers from the other down Stone's throat. At once his faithful assistant bent forward and heaved repeatedly while Robotnik wiped his wet glove on a nearby towel. "You can train that reflex but unless medically impaired, it'll come back. And we both know you haven't had sex in well over two years."
Stone shivered and gasped, possibly incoherent. Robotnik kept an eye on him but also ordered a badnik to take a sample from the vomitus. Stone kept coughing for several minutes, trembling and groaning. Somehow his obvious distress provoked the doctor into gently rubbing his back.
"There, there", he soothed, "You'll feel better in a moment."
Stone whined.
"Come", Robotnik eventually pulled the man backward and turned him toward the shower, "Hop in and clean yourself up."
It was questionable whether the agent would be able to stay upright without help, so the doctor took off his jacket, rolled up his shirt sleeves and stood close by. He pulled the mixer tab only far enough to allow a soft spray of water, hoping to remain as dry as possible. Stone was hit right in the face. Reflexively he rubbed his hands over his eyes and spluttered.
"Panties off."
Argh! He should have done it himself because as soon as his loyal henchman bent to take off his simple black briefs, he almost toppled over and Robotnik had to catch his dripping wet body.
"Oh you insolent-!"
Stone safely stabilised, the doctor angrily tugged off the last piece of clothing and threw it across the room. His own shirt was nearly fully soaked. Irgh! His patience was running thin. He meditatively kept chanting to himself: This isn't Stone's fault. Over and over. And over.
He felt high-strung anyway.
Grinding his teeth he washed his assistant down himself, then steered him back onto the bathmat to towel him off. Stone followed his every order and nudge and simply stood passively, smiling dreamily at him the entire time. It barely took six minutes to clean the agent, now that he had taken over. He even had had him gargle a few mouthful of water to wash away the taste of vomit.
He deposited a sufficiently tidy Stone back onto the couch and went to fetch a pair of sleeping pants and a soft shirt. Both were too big for his practically carry-on-sized agent but it would have to suffice. When he returned, Stone had sunk into a horizontal position, half-asleep.
"Up, agent", Robotnik tapped the man's thigh and received no response aside from a smile and a hand reaching for his face, "Docto~r!"
So he made quick work of wrestling his henchman into the clothes himself, all the while listening to more hymns of praise and suffer attempted snuggling. He mostly let him. Finally, finally Stone was no longer naked. Extracting himself from this horrible octopus of a man proved a rather difficult task but eventually he managed to bring a pillow from his bed along with a proper blanket.
"'m not tired, doctor", Stone whined when he was pushed into this nest.
"Be that as it may but you're going to lie down and rest. Your heart-rate is considerably elevated, your temperature barely below dangerous and you're delirious." Robotnik was having a hard time containing his temper. His mantra seemed no longer helpful. He put two bottles of water and a glass onto the couch table and then fell into an armchair he had pulled close. "And since I have no clue what drug you've been exposed to, we'll keep treading as carefully as possible." He exhaled a theatrical sigh now that he could finally sit. Aah~. What a day.
"'m not delirious."
"Of course, Stone", Robotnik assured sarcastically and made a gesture with his hand, "Want to tell me more about my persona?"
Stone rolled onto his side and melted into the pillow, looking lovingly at the doctor. He had stacked both of his hands beneath his cheek. His Bambi-eyes were half-lidded, betraying his body's exhaustion. "You're amazing, doctor. No one compares to you. I am so lucky to be working for you."
Robotnik let his head fall back: "What about the... physical moments?"
Stone closed his eyes fully and shifted a little where he lay, a giddy grin on his lips: "You're a very passionate man, doctor. It's very exciting when you get angry. And I found out quickly that you never really hit or hurt me. You only shove me around a little. Sometimes I kind of like that. I feel bad about it but... I cannot help it. You're so hot when you're all intimidating."
"Not delirious at all, Stone."
There was a pitiful glare then, ineffective and almost hilarious in its attempt: "I'm not!"
"Tell me about my work."
"Oh~!", Stone exclaimed in wonder, "You are ineffably brilliant, doctor! It is a marvel watching you change the world for the better. Every thought of yours is a wonder and a gift!"
Robotnik groaned: "Oh cut it out, agent!"
"It is the truth!"
"It is also the drug."
Stone pouted. He veritably pouted and Robotnik wanted to smother him with the cushions. His henchman's affection for him had never been a secret but this was ridiculous and not at all credible.
"Thank you for taking care of me, doctor", Stone sighed eventually. He could never stay mad at his boss. Had already forgotten about Robotnik's refusal to accept his praise as fact. He looked flushed and not because of embarrassment.
Robotnik pulled off his glove, stretched out his arm and put a palm onto his henchman's forehead. Stone was glowing up. Not worrisome at all... "Rest, Stone. Try to sleep a little."
*
Stone awoke in the middle of the night. Everything around him was dark and he felt oddly sluggish. He rolled, sat up and blinked sleepily: "Doctor?" It was his go-to call. He vaguely remembered that they were supposed to be at some hotel because of a UN conference. This room, even in darkness, did not look like anything Walters would put him into. So, that left the doctor.
"I'm here, Stone. How're you feeling?"
"Feeling?" He definitely felt dizzy, weary and every thought seemed to be a struggle to put together. He rubbed at his eyes. "Weird. I'm... woozy."
Robotnik was a shadow moving in the dark. Had he- had he sat there the entire time? A soft light filled the room then, set low and only enough to allow for slightly better sight. Stone squinted. Yes, the doctor was sat on an armchair pulled close to where Stone had been sleeping. What had happened?
Before he could voice his confusion, a plastic bottle was pushed into his hand: "Drink. One sip. Wait ten seconds. Then another sip. Slowly."
Stone frowned but did as instructed - and realised that he'd been parched. He swallowed a large gulp
"Hey, hey!", Robotnik immediately took his wrist, "Slowly, I said."
"I'm thirsty!"
"Yes, and you'll take a small sip and then wait."
Stone had no idea why and was too tired to ponder the doctor's motivation. But, as always, he obeyed. During his ten-second-wait, his boss' palm alighted on his forehead. "Sir?"
"Your fever is down. Your temperature is almost back to normal. Heart-rate too."
Stone made an inquisitive noise. Had he been sick?
"How about nausea?"
"No, I'm fine. Very tired."
"Good", Robotnik said and rose to his feet, "Come then. Let's get you to bed. Without the threat of you throwing up, you can sleep there."
Stone's thoughts were like syrup. Every question half-formed and miles away from being articulated. Thankfully the doctor indulged him, even helped Stone until he could once more lie down. Sighing, he sank into the mattress. "Thank you, sir."
The blanket was pulled over him making Stone hum in dreamy happiness.
"Stone", there was a warm hand on his cheek, "Can you listen for a moment?"
"I'll try, doctor."
"Good boy. Now. I'll have to leave for a little while. You will stay in bed and rest and sleep. If you drink, remember: one sip, ten seconds, next sip. No eating. No walking around. Do not take off your watch or I'll put you over my knee."
Stone, even as dizzy as he was, snorted a laugh and grinned: "Understood."
Robotnik regarded him for a moment then. Stone returned his gaze with no thoughts in his head. He was very tired. Hopefully the doctor would not ask any more questions.
"Sleep", came the last order, "I'll be back soon. Then we'll talk."
"'night, doctor."
Stone was fast sleep before he had fully snuggled his face into his pillow.
*
There was a leaden core of pure wrath festering in Robotnik's belly. He could barely keep his hand calm and still as he closed the door to his hotel room. He found it even less feasible not to scream in the hallway. Somehow, he kept himself contained. He would save all his rage for Walters.
How dare he!
How dare that decrepit old fart lay a hand on his agent to extract information about him!
Robotnik had to recite pie while he stormed toward the general's hotel room. Walters was also housed on this floor, naturally - no one had wanted Robotnik unsupervised during a UN conference. Stood before the final door, the doctor inhaled deeply. He focused. And exhaled.
And kicked in the door.
"WALTERS!"
A high-pitched squeak sounded from the suite's bedroom.
"WE NEED TO HAVE WORDS!"
A dishevelled general staggered hastily into the main-room, fumbling with his ridiculous sleeping hat: "Rob! What-?"
"EXPLAIN TO ME WHY YOU HAD MY AGENT DRUGGED AND INTERROGATED!"
"Eh-?"
"Wrong answer."
Walters toppled backwards, crashing into an armchair. Robotnik had punched him in the face - and with a tremendous amount of restraint on his part. Now he kicked the little couch table roughly to the side, pointing threateningly: "Start. Talking."
"Eh- eh- it was- eh-!" Walters was not a little flustered and worried and also, in pain. "I had-!"
Robotnik put a foot on the armchair's seat, looming over the general: "Those agents would not act without orders. And, do not play me for a fool here, I HEARD THEM TALKING! I HAVE AUDIO PROOF OF YOUR INVOLVEMENT!"
"Ok, ok, ok", Walters was holding up his palms, trying frantically to calm the doctor down, "Listen, Rob, I just-"
"You know what?", Robotnik leaned closer and growled, "I don't give a shit. I could not give any less of a fuckin' shit. Here's what will happen: Stone is off limits to you from now on. He'll be your agent on paper and nothing more. If I see any of your other agents so much as squinting in his way, I'll level your fuckin' office at the Pentagon."
Walters pressed deeper and deeper into the upholstery, sweating and whimpering.
"Furthermore", the doctor's voice was barely more than a rumble at this point, "Do not ask where your agents are. Do not look for them. Best thing to do, is write them off as collateral. When I am done with them, there'll be nothing left. And you'll accept that. Punishment must be dealt."
Walters had paled.
"Lastly", Robotnik was withdrawing then. He tugged his jacket back into proper order and made to leave, speaking over his shoulder, "You'll quietly let Stone have that motorcycle I designed for your field agents. The one currently in your testing lab. It will be your unofficial apology. I am not asking. This is not a negotiation.
He paused. A thought had come to him. Grinning manically, he returned to Walters, sat on the armrest beside him and put an arm around the man's shoulder. With his free hand Robotnik pulled out his phone and quickly took a selfie of himself smirking and Walters looking exhaustedly resigned. It would be a hilarious Christmas-card motif for his abused agent.
Then he wished the paralysed general a pleasant night and left.
*
Stone woke, frowning and blinking because sunlight was falling right into his eye. This was odd because neither the bed in his apartment nor his cot in the doctor's laboratory allowed for that angle. Oh, right, the conference. His hotel room. He sat up and immediately wondered at the bed. And the sheets. And the room.
This was not his hotel room.
OH GOD! THIS WAS NOT HIS HOTEL ROOM! WHAT-!
This was the doctor's hotel room.
Oh thank god!
He flopped back down and tried to calm his frantically beating heart. Nothing happened. He was safe.
Why did he not remember how he got here? No matter how much he tried, the last thing he remembered was that he had been pressured into card games with the other agents. They had gossiped while he had tried to wait out the time until the doctor's return. Everything after that was blank.
Oh god, had he gotten drunk?
He only remembered two or three shots of Tequila. That wasn't enough to cause this blackout.
When he looked down at himself, he noticed that he was wearing the doctor's clothes. Soft, off-duty clothes. For a moment he consciously felt the material beneath his palms, smiling to himself. No! No, this was unprofessional! Whatever happened, the doctor had possibly been inconvenienced by this. He needed to remedy the situation as quickly as possible.
So decided, he sat back up and got to his feet.
And halted. He frowned. If this was the doctor's suite and the doctor's bed, where was the man? Calibrated to worry, Stone called tentatively: "Doctor?"
His wristwatch vibrated momentarily, then Robotnik's voice could be heard through its speaker: "Good morning, agent Stone. I trust you slept well. Stay put. You are still forbidden from walking around. I'll be there shortly."
"Forbidden? Doctor, what happened? Where are you?"
"Always with the nagging. Just stay where you are. I'm already in the lobby."
Stone sank back down onto the mattress and looked about. He had no recollection of anything. His clothes weren't even nearby. If he craned his neck, he could only make out a wall in the main room. There was a bottle of water on the night-stand. He had his wristwatch. Beyond that nothing seemed familiar.
It seemed to take forever for the doctor to arrive. When Stone finally heard the door to the suite open, he nearly shot to his feet but orders were orders. But why? Why was he forbidden from walking around?
Moments later Robotnik stepped into his view.
Stone immediately relaxed. The doctor was fine and here. Everything was fine. Stone smiled.
"Ah, welcome back among the living, agent Stone", Robotnik grinned and then lifted and wriggled a paper bag emblazoned with the logo of a moderately renown bakery. "Hungry?"
Stone's belly chose that moment to loudly demand input. Oh. Holy shit, yes.
"I take that as a yes. Scoot over."
Stone shifted until he was sitting with his back resting against the headrest of the bed, legs crossed before him. Robotnik pulled an armchair closer and sat down as if taking seat on his throne. He rested one ankle on the opposite knee. Then he opened the paper bag.
"So", he exhaled conversationally, "How much do you remember? Of last night?"
Stone accepted a croissant and blushed. That had sounded a little... suggestive. He smiled brittly: "I was at a card game with the other agents. You were at the conference. I drank three Tequila shots at most. I don't remember anything after the fourth game."
Robotnik nodded as if that fit with his assumptions. He sighed deeply and scooted forward to the edge of his chair. A gentle wave of his hand had Stone leaning toward him. Methodically the doctor checked his eyes, his gums, the temperature on his forehead and just generally the overall colour of the agent's face.
"You do look better, agent", he finally decided, "How do you feel?" He sat back.
"Hungry", Stone admitted, having already wolfed down his first croissant, "A little bone-weary. Confused. Maybe a tiny headache."
Robotnik passed him a second croissant: "Will you need painkillers?"
Stone shook his head. "What happened, doctor?"
"You were drugged."
The agent boggled: "What? By whom?"
Robotnik leaned back imperiously and gestured with his hand: "Let me tell you a story!" Stone chuckled at his boss' antics. Always so dramatic. And handsome. "Once upon a time there was a naïv damsel in distress for heinous waylayers abducted her. They came by the order of an inept landlord trying to force information from her. You see, our little damsel was working as chambermaid for an inconceivably smart, powerful and handsome wizard. The landlord had asked that wizard to provide him with a superior design for a gizmo of his choice. And because the wizard was improving the pathetic gizmo beyond the wildest imagination of inferior minds, his work took time. The landlord, though, was not a patient man and filled with worry over usurpation because, naturally, he would stand no chance should the mighty wizard ever choose to throw off the shackles of the powers that be. And so the waylayers drugged the oblivious damsel in their attempt to glean information from her not knowing that the wizard would know."
Stone's eyes had widened over the course of the... story. He was incredulous and worried and so, so furious. "Those fools drugged me?"
Robotnik nodded: "They did." And before Stone could say anything else, he continued: "It was probably some experimental suggestive. I've taken samples and will be examining them later."
"A suggestive? Did I tell them anything I wasn't-?"
The doctor waved his concerns aside, bored: "Of course not, Stone. But that only made the buffoons try to give you more and more of the substance. They most definitely overdosed you. That was the only dangerous part."
"Overdosed?"
"Mmh."
"Is that why I'm here?", Stone asked and cast his eyes once more over the doctor's bed. Where he had slept.
Robotnik frowned: "Naturally. You weren't in any condition to be left to your own devices."
The doctor had saved him. And taken care of him. Stone felt a sudden lump in his throat. His eyes were watering. He rubbed at them surreptitiously. At least, he hoped it was so. "I'm sorry I caused you trouble."
"You look mighty happy for someone apologising."
Stone could not help his watery grin: "I'm sorry, sir."
"Yeah, yea. Don't strain yourself, agent. You weren't at fault."
"Did I say anything, doctor? To the other agents?"
Robotnik smirked: "It doesn't matter, ultimately. They are in no position to make use of any information they gleaned from you."
Stone felt an inappropriate shiver of arousal at the sight of the doctor's ominous expression: "Have you already disposed of them, sir?" Honestly, Stone was partly disappointed.
"Don't look so disappointed, agent! Of course I saved them for you. As soon as you feel better, you are free to do whatever you wish. No! You are not yet released from bedrest. Be patient. They are not going anywhere. For sure."
Stone couldn't help his malign grin if he had tried: "That is exceedingly generous of you, sir. I'll be certain to make the most of this opportunity." Then a thought occurred to him: "What about general Walters? Won't you get into trouble?"
Robotnik made a dismissive gesture: "Pah! I already notified Walters that he should not expect to ever see his agents again. Once you're done with them, I'll dispose of their remains - creatively. You don't need to concern yourself with any details. Let this be my get-well-gift to you."
"Your generosity is marvellous, doctor. I appreciate everything you've done." Stone was grinning from ear to ear, so happy.
"Oh, and Walters naturally extends his best wishes as well", Robotnik drawled theatrically, "He is deeply upset that his agents misinterpreted his orders and put you in danger. It will never happen again. And as a show of good faith, he sent you a gift."
Stone raised one sceptical eyebrow: "A gift?"
"Jepp", the doctor nodded, "I took the liberty and had it brought here immediately. To save our dear general the nuisance." He waggled his eyebrows conspiratorially. Stone nearly snorted a laugh because he very strongly suspected that the doctor had stolen something he shouldn't have. "Feel any nausea now that you've eaten something?"
"None at all, doctor", Stone assured blissfully.
"Then you may get up and have a look at what is waiting for you in the other room." Stone regarded him warily. "Are you daft, agent? Hurry! I have to be at the conference in half an hour and you still have to shower and dress."
"Am I coming with you, sir?"
"You bet."
Stone beamed in happiness and slid to his feet. Ducking past the rising doctor to better hide his blushing face, he made for the main room. And froze in the doorway. His hands flew to his face, covering his nose and mouth. No way! Robotnik had stepped behind him, looking over his shoulder - a smug grin on his lips: "So? Think you can forgive our dear general?"
Stone's laugh came as an involuntary huff of unbridled glee. He was 99 percent certain that general Walters had nothing to do with this whatsoever: there stood a shiny new motorcycle in the middle of the hotel room. Ridiculously large red bow and everything. And further more, it was that experimental model Robotnik had designed for the other field agents. The electric one. Stone's mind was running through all the technical facts he remembered from a short look over his boss' shoulder.
He had been very enchanted with it.
"You're not going to get into trouble for this?", Stone asked hesitantly.
Robotnik's expression made the facial equivalent of a shrug: "We'll find out. Can't say I'm worried, though. I think Walters rather prefers I do not share the audio files I have. Audio files of his agents drugging and interrogating you."
Stone's eyes slid back to the sleek black beauty mere meters in front of him. A happy noise forced its way past his lips, despite his best attempts to remain professional. "I think I can let bygones be bygones", he chortled.
"Thought so."
*
Later, when Stone had showered and dressed in his spare suit, because of course he had come prepared and brought a second suit. He was a professional after all. Blood or coffee stains? Not on his watch. So. Neatly dressed once more, Stone had indeed been waved along by the doctor. He was back where he was supposed to be. And happy.
Walters kept avoiding him studiously - be it looks or words or his general existence.
Stone could live with that. He kept himself glued to the doctor's side, never more than two steps behind or beside. Walters did not even feature on his radar.
The conference progressed as expected: more international politicians and dignitaries and military representatives that could ever be productive were gathered in this circular hall, arguing, gesticulating and being generally inefficient. Stone kept his face neutral. So much wasted time. If the doctor were to be given free reign, the reconstruction would be well underway by early afternoon. But so far, they simply asked numbers of him. Mostly, pecuniary numbers.
Always the same old story...
The doctor had spoken for a while half an hour ago. Now the politicians were back at arguing, leaving his boss a moment of respite. They had returned to their seats and were mostly ignored, nearly isolated in their bubble of calm. Usually, on a normal day, Stone would be standing behind Robotnik's chair - in optimum position to guard - but the man had resolutely ordered him to sit beside him, mindful of Stone's recent poisoning by drug overdose.
It also left the agent in a much better spot to listen to the doctor's commentary: "They argued about the exact same costs yesterday. This is nothing but a giant waste of time and ironically, money. See the secretary over there? She's almost asleep on her feet. And look at the major? There's vodka in his coffee."
Stone grinned and suddenly thought of something: "Doctor? If I may ask, how did you know something was wrong? Yesterday, I mean. With me."
Robotnik shifted into a more comfortable position, angled toward his agent: "Your watch was alerting me of your physiological anomalies."
"Anomalies?"
An affirmative hum: "Heart-rate. Body temperature."
And before Stone could think twice about his boldness, he already wondered out loud: "Why did you immediately suspect foul play? I could have been otherwise engaged." He grinned.
Robotnik looked at him then and raised one very sardonic eyebrow: "Stone. We both know that you haven't had sex in well over two years. Want to argue this some more?"
Oh. Oh god.
Stone's face blushed a deep, deep red and he gulped.
Robotnik leered: "But I learned that you thought you didn't have a gag-reflex."
Oh god. He was going to die of embarrassment in the middle of a UN conference.
The doctor asked nonchalantly: "You good there, Stone?"
Stone shielded his flaming face with a hand, sinking lower into his chair and crossing his legs. He nodded his head pleadingly. Robotnik patted his thigh in a mixture of comfort and glee. "Let's talk about this later, mmh? My little damsel."
END