Chapter Text
Shadow didn’t understand the purpose of the yearly two week vacation he received from GUN. When looking over his paperwork for annual vacation time, he noticed that this specific period was denoted as “Season: Erinaceidae/Eulipotyphla,” and was scheduled for the last week of May through the first week of June every year, with no option to change this like any other vacation time offered. Glancing over at Rouge’s paperwork, he noticed that she had a similar column, denoted as “Season: Chiroptera,” scheduled for the last week of August through the first week of September.
Not that this was an issue, of course- he’d much rather spend his denoted time off to himself in his home off in the middle of nowhere, completely dead to the world, than have Rouge drag him out of his perfect, precious solitude to do something social. Strangely, she never mentioned what she had done during her time off, not even casually. Shadow wasn’t the type to ask anyway; he was grateful more than anything to be spared the intimate details of her sabbatical.
He was aware that “erinaceidae” was the taxonomic classification for hedgehogs, but was there some sort of tradition among each species to take specific time off for vacation? Shadow had seen enough advertisements in Station Square about travel packages for avian Mobians looking to vacation south for the winter. Was this an established practice that one was socially obligated to take part in?
He supposed he should ask someone, just for context- not Rouge, since he did not want to waste his time asking someone he wasn’t certain would be aware of hedgehog-specific customs, and he sure as hell didn’t want to hear about any of the bat ones.
Perhaps he could ask Sonic or Amy? Shadow did not see either of them often, and that was mostly by choice. Both were naturally very talkative with very little regard for personal space, and Amy was understandably wary around him, which Shadow respected. Sonic, on the other hand…
Well, that was another problem entirely. Shadow didn’t know exactly what to do about him.
Sonic had asked Shadow for his phone number the last time they had spoken. Shadow of course did not give it out, mostly because he didn’t have a phone to begin with, but the words “and what could you possibly want with it?” slipped out of his mouth faster than he could register.
The blue hedgehog reacted oddly to this- a thick swallow, a faint blush spread across his muzzle, his ears flat, his eyes cast downward. Shadow’s interrogation training told him that Sonic was anxious and uncomfortable, but for what reason? He had certainly never seen him act like this. Sonic was brash and loud, flirtatious and outspoken. Why the sudden change?
“Oh, I uh, I-I was just thinkin’, y’know, that I don’t really get to see ya very much,” the blue hedgehog stammered- why was the idiot stammering? Shadow wondered. Surely he asked for contact information from others often; he had more friends than any sane person would know what to do with. Had he done something to make Sonic uncomfortable? He squinted quizzically at the other as he continued-
“A-and I just thought that, uh, that I-”
“Out with it, Sonic,” the black hedgehog snapped with crossed arms. It wasn’t like Sonic to explain himself, especially not so hesitantly. Shadow didn’t like it.
“I-I just thought that it would, y’know, that it would be easier,” Sonic emphasized, casually gesturing with his hands and a step to the side, “to hang out more if, y’know, I had a way to-”
“Regardless, my answer is ‘no’, hedgehog,” Shadow snapped, cutting the other off. “I already see you far more often than I want- why the hell would I willingly give you the ability to contact me whenever you wanted?”
Sonic reacted to this by looking downwards and slightly to the left, furrowing his brow, biting the inside of his left cheek, and tapping his right foot slightly, but he didn’t press Shadow about it any more, which in itself was strange. He was clearly bothered by Shadow’s response in some way- why didn’t he pick a fight with him about it if it was so important to him? Shadow almost wanted an antagonistic response from his rival, if it just meant a return to normalcy.
The black-quilled hedgehog didn’t understand why racing and roughhousing with him seemed to please Sonic so much, nor did he understand why the hell he would catch himself thinking about it for days afterwards, especially after that one particular conversation.
Why would Sonic want to seek out his company? Certainly there were far more pleasant people for him to be around. Sonic had more than enough friends to keep him occupied if he wanted attention so badly- friends whose behavior didn’t require a novel’s worth of justification.
Just the blue hedgehog’s presence had begun to make him anxious, and he isn’t quite sure why.
There was just something so... captivating in the way that Sonic smiled at him during the few times they ran into each other, the way he laughed with such pure, unrestrained joy in his voice, the way he’d casually touch his hand or playfully punch his shoulder that made Shadow’s chest ache horribly. Sonic could just start chattering aimlessly about something Shadow had absolutely no context for, and while in the past it would have driven him up the wall, now it would make Shadow zone out completely, unaware of what the other was even talking about, and just focus on the sound of his warm, friendly tenor voice and the spark of life in his kind emerald green eyes.
There had to be something wrong with him- humans were fallible, so perhaps the professor’s insistence that he was truly indestructible was misjudged and either he or the other ARK researchers had made a horrible mistake. There must be something wrong with him- there was no reason why “The Ultimate Lifeform” shouldn’t be able to focus on a simple conversation, or why it strangely pained him to think about Sonic a mere few hours after just seeing him. Perhaps his mind or at least his better judgement was rotting away due to the pest becoming more insistent about spending more time with him lately.
He normally loathed being touched, but he felt oddly bittersweet about the way Sonic would reach for his hand without hesitation, as if they had not just been trying to kick the shit out of each other, and would lead him to take him to lunch of all things, or whatever in the world Sonic wanted to show him this time, now with only mild complaints coming from Shadow.
He always felt unusually... guilty? after the ache in his chest eventually became too unbearable and his hands became too clammy and his thoughts began to race too fast, causing him to announce his departure to the sociable blue hedgehog. Not that he would give a reason- the idiot did not need to know of his sudden, mysterious illness. The last thing he wanted from him was his pity.
“It’s cool, man!” Sonic would always say. “I’m just glad we got to hang out for a bit! I’ll see ya around. Be careful!”
‘Be careful...'
Those troublesome words always made the pain worse, strangely, and the blue hedgehog would always give him a smile before running off to Chaos knows where. There was something almost melancholy to it, if Shadow had to put a word to it, despite its usual outward cheeriness. He wouldn’t respond with anything but a sneer, but always ended up having to fight the urge to look back at the other as he left, despite his inner voice insisting that it would just be to make sure the dumbass didn’t run into anything. Not that he would care if he did.
Despite everything, he supposed that he never truly meant it when he told Sonic to leave him alone and go bother someone else for a race or to brawl. He was prideful. He didn’t need to be seen easily accepting challenges from the likes of that nimwit. Sonic would just badger him until he got the attention he wanted anyway, regardless of his answer, and might be inclined to bother him even more if he got a positive response out of his surly rival for once.
Admittedly, a part of him strangely desired his attention, something Sonic was more than happy to give, but why? Why, Chaos, why?
Going to Sonic for questions about “hedgehog culture” was absolutely out of the question. Either that stupid pretty face of his would light up like Christmastime and he'd drag him to every festival and celebration on Mobius, or perhaps Sonic would lie to him about what that entailed just to make a fool out of him in public. The only one he could truly trust was himself.
He had no ties to any social obligations anyway. It’s not like he was 100% hedgehog- there was green blood coursing through his veins, and you certainly didn’t see him taking part in any Black Arms customs either, if there even were any. Shadow fully intended to spend the next two weeks just as he’d hoped: absolutely dead to the world, asleep in his familiar nest of pillows and blankets, and as soon as he clocked out and teleported home, he did just that.
This time he intended to fully enjoy it, unlike last year when he, again, felt strangely ill...
Hours later, at roughly three in the morning, the black-quilled hedgehog wakes in a sudden panic, uncomfortably warm and drenched in his own sweat. Rubbing tiredly at his face with both hands, he reasons that he must have forgotten to set the air conditioning when he arrived home and grouchily staggers over to the unit in the hallway- only to find that no, it had been set correctly.
Completely bare with the exception of his heavy inhibitor rings, Shadow sighs irritably, crossing his arms and tapping his padded foot while he thinks to himself. Why was he so fucking hot? The air conditioner was working correctly- raising an arm in front of the vent confirms this, and the air feels tantalizingly icy against his sweat-soaked fur. Perhaps a shower would help?
He makes his way into the small bathroom and switches on the light to the right of the door. Bitterly, he rubs the sleep from his eyes and turns on the water before turning to collect a fresh plush towel from his cupboard. After setting it on the toilet seat, Shadow steps purposefully into the refreshingly cold shower, rinsing the sweat from his quills and relishing in the sensation of cool water in his uncomfortably sticky fur. Before his sleep was interrupted, he had been having a very pleasurable dream...
Shadow closes his eyes and rests his forehead against the cool shower tiles, trying to recall the details as he tentatively runs clawed fingers over his swollen member… messy sapphire quills and bright emerald eyes, a teasing smile on a beautifully flushed peach muzzle, a breathy voice proudly begging- no, pleading him to…
He grasps himself firmly, letting out a soft, shuddering breath, and reaches to increase the water temperature before returning to his fantasy of recklessly grasping svelte blue hips, of leaving bruises under his thumbs, of running his tongue over soft peach and azure fur as the other shuddered under the contact...
A show of power over him… but not an unwelcome one. After all, it seemed that the other’s unwavering confidence was the main draw, paired with his natural curiosity and the actual chance of a challenge in him, not to mention his boyish, pretty face and tight, toned form.
It didn’t mean anything, of course- it was purely a physical attraction rather than any sort of pathetic emotional attachment, and the object of his fantasies never had to know just what he dreamed of doing with his pretty little body whenever he managed to overpower him and pin him to the grass...
This was simply a means to an end, nothing more, and one Shadow would never truly act on. Even if the object of his fantasy was a willing participant- which he could never be, given what a goody-goody he was, and what a cold, callous monster Shadow was- doing so would require a level of vulnerability, of weakness- something he could never reveal to anyone, couldn’t trust anyone with, let alone that blue nuisance who would never let it go.
Shadow bites his lip, his pulse quickening as he strokes himself faster. In his fantasies he’s already stuffed himself fully inside the other, and he idly wonders just how loud Sonic would be in that sort of situation, what he would smell like, what those peach lips would feel and taste like against his own…
He slows his pace, his strokes heavier and more thorough. He lets out a low groan as he fucks his fist, his climax not far behind, as his mind wanders further.
… Was Sonic even interested in men? He’d never seen him show any sort of interest in anyone before- not that it was any of his business, just a passing curiosity. Nothing more. The fool could screw whatever he wanted to. He was probably very experienced with this; he knew everything there was to know about being social. Sonic always seemed to know just what to say, just what to do with himself...
Rouge would always tease Shadow whenever Sonic lavished attention on him, saying that the other was “clearly” flirting with him, and how she wished that meat-headed echidna she was always chasing after would look at her “like that,” whatever that meant, but that couldn’t be. Sonic was just in it for the challenge, something that Shadow was more than happy to give. After all, where was the fun in competing without shit-talking one’s opponent?
But Shadow could dream, and dream he did, until the familiar pleasurable spasm hit and he leaned on the shower wall once more for stability as he leaked semen onto the floor of his bathtub.
Satisfied, and careful not to use all of his water as he was so far removed from any municipal water system that he relied on a well, the spent hedgehog turns off the shower and steps out. He recomposes himself, meticulously squeezing out any water weighing down his quills before drying himself off completely, and finishes off by tying the plush gray towel around his waist and returns to his bedroom.
Shadow takes two steps into the room before freezing in place-
What the hell was that smell?
Perplexed, he inhales deeply and quickly pieces it together- it’s his own scent, a heady musk with hints of spices with a sharp cut of lavender, carried by the sweat in his sheets but somehow much, much stronger than usual. It’s not that it was an unpleasant scent, but there was no way in hell he was going back to sleep in his sweaty, smelly sheets like some kind of animal.
After an exasperated sigh, he frustratedly rips off all of his bedding and carries it down the stairs into his laundry room. He thoroughly goes through each piece and carefully places each blanket and sheet evenly around the machine before he begins to feel clammy and lightheaded all over again. Anxious and agitated, the hedgehog throws in the detergent and starts the machine.
He was definitely getting sick- again! There was no other explanation. He recalled last year- wait, was it around this same time?
It had been...
What the fuck was happening to him? Why was it happening again, and at the same time as last year? Perhaps going for a run would help clear his mind and encourage his body to heal itself…
Shadow slips on his shoes and pulls on his gloves before stepping out the front door with determination. It was important for him to remain calm, but he was at a loss at what else to do as a wave of fear washed over him. Running an exasperated claw through his quills, he realizes he can’t return to GUN at 4 am demanding access to their files on the professor’s research, and no normal Mobian doctor could possibly understand his physiology enough to help him. He just needed to push himself, he reasoned, and force his body to work itself through whatever the hell this was.