Chapter Text
Soft rays of morning sun shined over the city, illuminating the roads and streets with a warm light, while the chirping of birds and the car engines broke the silence of the night.
Traffic wasn’t too busy this early in the morning and near mint road conditions allowed a man dressed head to toe in black leather to drive smoothly over the asphalt concrete with his motorcycle – overtaking a few cars and exceeding the speed limit on a little more than one occasion. The purr of the slim vehicle’s engine spread through his body like a warm embrace, until it eventually faded when the machine came to a halt in front of the driver’s destination.
The Mean Bean – a cafe located near the heart of the city and, advantageously, close to a university campus. There was no better location he could wish for. Why else would he intentionally target what was previously known as ‘Karen’s Coffee’? He wanted to gag at the mere thought of it. If the employee’s attitudes weren’t already enough to make you sick, the bland coffee definitely would. Truly a shame nobody decided to turn things around quicker.
The motorcyclist, Stone was his name, parked his beloved bike behind the building and pulled off his helmet to take a fresh, deep breath of air. With the headgear tucked under his left armpit, Stone approached a mechanical looking backdoor. A small scanner was mounted at perfect eye level and beeped faintly when the owner of the cafe got close enough, door clicking open. When he entered, the lights automatically flickered on with a quiet buzz.
Stone was in no hurry to put away his helmet and neatly fold his leather gear. With the flick of a few switches, the rest of the power in the building turned on and lit up the cozy cafe. A black apron was swiftly thrown on and tied behind his back, while the soft clicking of his shoes – accompanied by a quiet tune the man was humming – echoed through the main space of the building.
It wouldn’t be long until a couple of employees showed up for the opening shift. Until then, Stone made sure to check if everything was working the way it should and put on a relaxing playlist. And soon enough, the clock struck 7 – The Mean Bean was officially open.
Being a professor did give you some advantages over being a regular teacher. You were generally given more flexibility for your teaching schedule, though that also meant you had a lot of paperwork outside of your main work hours. That paperwork tended to take up a lot of time, well into the dead of night, which meant a well recommended 8 hours sleep wasn’t usually on the table for Ivo Robotnik. He’d been teaching for a while now at this university as a robotics engineering professor. He didn’t like interacting with the students that much and was generally regarded as a very strict and cruel lecturer. Of course, everyone was aware of how brilliant he was. It didn’t negate how not many people were willing to even get close to him due to his temper.
Said temper usually got worse without his morning coffee. But here’s the catch: Ivo wouldn’t regard himself as a good brewer. He had a pantry full of instant coffee in his apartment, but even then he didn’t have enough time to brew them in the morning. The nearest Starbucks was a bit too far from campus and he didn’t feel like drinking mediocre coffee with a detour. Hence, he settled on ‘Karen’s Coffee’. A small business near campus that served… Also mediocre coffee, but hey, at least he didn’t need to drive to get there.
It had been a while since he visited that coffee shop however, as his schedule had gotten more busy and he opted to just drinking coffee from the lecturer’s lounge – even if he absolutely despised it. But today, he finally got some time and decided to visit again. He raised an eyebrow at the shop’s name change when he got there. ‘The Mean Bean’. Huh. Guess they must’ve switched owners.
He entered at 7:15 AM; two layers of coat to shield him from the morning cold as he walked up to the barista. Not the usual lady that’s on standby, hence he didn’t really recognize him. A small bell chimed when the mysterious customer entered, alerting the barista. The cloaked man looked familiar, Stone thought to himself. Perhaps he’d seen him once or twice when he was still an employee at Karen’s Coffee, but he didn’t recall serving him directly.
“Welcome, what can I do for you?” he greeted in a soft, yet firm tone of voice. Two students who had taken their orders and were now seated at a circular coffee table were seen whispering towards each other upon recognizing the taller man, leading Stone to assume he must’ve been a professor, or maybe another type of educational figure… Probably on the stricter side, judging by the students’ expressions. He decided to keep his low-effort deduction to himself, though.
“Owner change?” The professor asked. “Whatever, I don’t care.” He quickly answered his own question. “Give me something sweet but with enough shots to keep me awake. I can’t do dairy milk, so find an alternative,” he said. He definitely was on the rude end of the spectrum when it came to customers. Not that he cared all that much.
Stone was rarely a fan of improvising brews for customers – the few times he did, it ended in unhappy faces, wasted coffee and no tip. With this individual however, he felt an urge to live up to the challenge. Maybe he could wipe that grumpy expression right off his face. There were very few things you could do wrong with a latte, now all that was left was the choice of milk.
“Our non-dairy milk options consist of almond, soy, oat and rice. Are there any in particular you’d like in your coffee?” Stone asked, whilst shoveling a small portion of his favorite coffee beans into the grinder and waiting for an answer before turning it on.
Ivo took a bit to respond as he was busy typing on his phone when the barista was talking to him, paying no attention to him as he was speaking. He finally locked his phone, putting it within the inner pockets of his coat and turned back to the barista, scoffing a bit. “Are you guys out of cashew milk?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. He looked a bit annoyed as he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “All of those options sound ass to me,” he groaned. He had problems digesting dairy, especially cow’s milk. Though most non-dairy options sounded disgusting to him. He has tried most of them. So far he only liked cashew and macadamia. He looked back at Stone, still with a disappointed and frustrated look plastered on his face.
“Fine, whatever. What dairy options do you have that isn’t cow?” He asked, but before Stone could even answer, he spoke up again. “You know what, screw this. I don’t have time for this,” he spat, raising his tone as he pulled out his wallet. From it he pulled a black card, handing it over to Stone. “Do whatever you want with the coffee. I don’t care. I just want something sweet,” he spoke. “Charge it yourself.” His patience always ran very thinly without coffee and it definitely showed.
The tension of the increasing hostility was nearly suffocating, yet Stone remained calm.
He’d dealt with much worse customers in the past. Worse than his former employer Karen, who had the audacity to spit his own specialty right in his face. He had to suppress a grin when he imagined what she was doing right now. Maybe she was in the prison canteen, sipping watered down coffee and wishing she’d appreciated Stone’s brews when she still had the chance?
That’s when a figurative lightbulb clicked on in his head. His specialty. This way he could prove himself.
“You got it, sir.” The coffee grinder turned on with a deafeningly loud rumble and nimble fingers snatched a tall to-go cup. There was no need to ask if the customer wanted to drink it here – he was clearly adamant on leaving as soon as he got the chance – and once the coffee was being pressed, the barista fetched a carton of milk. Specifically, goat milk from the Austrian Alps, which was now poured into a silver milk steamer.
A few minutes passed until Stone could fill the cup with warm milk and finally top it off with the foam. He settled for simple latte art, that resembled a leaf of some sort, then slid the beverage across the counter alongside a lid to pop on.
“Careful, it’s hot,” Stone warned while tip-tapping against the screen at the register. When his hand reached out to grab the man’s card, he hesitated shortly, eyes fixated on the screen. Looking up, he made sure the strange man wasn’t paying too much attention to him, before proceeding to pretend to swipe the card over the scanner. This was the first time he let his coffee be on the house, perhaps even the last time, but something told him it was the right thing to do. He made a mental note to himself to put five bucks into the register before the end of the shift, then printed out the receipt and returned it with the credit card.
“Enjoy your coffee!”
As the barista was preparing his coffee, Ivo was on the phone with someone, yelling in a different language – seemingly a very angry German dialect – and grumbled as he hung up when his coffee and card was handed back to him, crumpling the receipt and shoving his card back into his wallet, not bothering to check it. He absentmindedly took a sip from his coffee cup and his expression changed ever so slightly. It was a very subtle change – his eyes seemed to have softened a bit when he took a sip; he was delighted. It was warm, sweet as he requested it to be. Quick service too.
He glanced back at the barista, eyeing him up and down, finally taking a closer look at him. Now that he’s taken a proper gander, he could somewhat recall him working in this coffee shop. But he was certain he had never served him before, considering the coffee he drank was unlike anything he’s ever had in this cafe. It was amazing, whatever was put in there tasted great.
With his heart pounding in his chest and hairs standing on end, his eyes were fixated on the other man’s face – scanning for any signs of approval. Maybe he was imagining it, but he swore he saw those muscles relax ever so slightly. His gaze wandered down to the well-maintained mustache and the way the milk foam clung to the tips of it. The corners of his lips quirked up into a faint smile, his face practically beaming with joy.
The older man’s expression remained grumpy as ever though, a lack of smile and furrowed eyebrows, even if his eyes had softened a bit than before. He didn’t say a word as he pulled out a 20 from his wallet – leaving it in the tip jar before silently making an exit from the coffee shop. He’ll be back here for lunch hour, he thought. Service was immaculate after all.
Everything went so fast; Stone barely had a moment to register what happened. He didn’t even have time to utter a word before the generous tipper stormed out… It felt surreal. But even when he blinked twice and the 20-dollar bill did not disappear from his tip jar and he didn’t wake up after pinching himself, he could confirm it was real. Suck it, Karen.
Throughout the next hours of his shift, thoughts raced through his mind. Should he stock up on cashew milk? What should he say if the stranger came back? When would he come back? The day felt slower than usual. Every second he wasn’t occupied making drinks, talking to customers or handing out snacks, his head trailed off to think of the man with the funny ‘stache.
Stone couldn’t remember a single shift where he wasn’t happy to take his lunch break. What if he came back? If his employees gave him attitude (granted, since the man wasn’t the most civil himself), he might not come back at all! At some point, he caved, shortening his break to a quarter of an hour, where he smoked one cigarette and ate two of their freshly baked croissants, then immediately went back to work.
Ivo wanted to return there for lunch. He knew they ought to have some sort of pastries there at the very least that he could snack on. It’s not like he ever ate that much anyways. Though, as much as he wanted to go during lunch hour, he was stuck in campus to have a meeting with a student. Something about consulting with his research paper, which honestly Ivo couldn’t care less about, but it was his job to assist students with research projects under his department. It’s not like he hated his job – quite the contrary, he was grateful to be able to do research and develop projects on the regular. He loved creating and being a professor gave him an outlet for that. However, communicating with others wasn’t his favorite thing. He preferred to be alone most of the time, and even if he’s interacting with someone, he would rather do the talking instead of listening. He was quite bad at that. Regardless, he finally finished the meeting around 2:30 PM. Late for lunch, but whatever.
He planned on doing his work in the coffee shop. Better than working on the lecturer’s lounge, he figured. His co-workers wouldn’t be able to bother him with base, meaningless small talks here. He entered The Mean Bean at around 2:45 PM. He brought his work with him in a neat laptop bag.
Around lunch time, the café had slowly but surely filled up with students, chatting at their tables or studying – textbooks and laptops on whatever surface they could find. The moment the doctor stepped into the room, the noise died down. Not entirely, but enough to make Stone peek out from behind the coffee machine. He’s back. He’s back! Wiping his hands on a rag and smoothing down his apron, he offered a warm smile.
Walking up to the barista, Robotnik was surprised it was still the same guy from earlier. Must’ve been the new owner then, he thought. “Do you guys have lunch menus? Or snacks, whatever it is that I can eat?” He asked.
The barista slid a laminated printout of their menu across the smooth surface of the counter. “We offer a small selection freshly baked goods, pastries and desserts,” he began. After a pause he pointed and tapped where the croissants were listed. “These are my personal favorites. They come with a jam, marmalade or chocolate spread of your choice.”
Croissants. Ivo liked that. Despite his very gloomy appearance and strict outward persona, Ivo loved sweets. Any kind of sweet pastries, he’d love them. His sweet tooth was also the reason he would always seek out sugary tasting coffee, as he wasn’t able to stand bitter americanos.
“I’ll take a marmalade croissant. And I’ll take your french toast as well.” He said. He didn’t mind getting more than one menu. It was his lunch after all and knowing him, he probably wouldn’t eat dinner at all. His eating habits were all over the place. Hell, he didn’t have anything for breakfast earlier that day aside from the cup of coffee. He looked at the menu for a bit, scanning the beverage section. “… I’ll take a strawberry milkshake as well. Make it with the milk you used for the coffee earlier,” he ordered, pulling out his card again.
‘Thank him for the big tip’ Stone’s brain yelled at him. He wasn’t sure if this was the right moment, but he didn’t want to seem ungrateful. That man left a bigger tip than he’d sometimes get in a whole day. After mentally counting to three, he finally spoke.
“I really appreciate your generous tip from earlier this morning, thank you.”
When Stone mentioned the tip, he simply hummed out in response. “Yeah, okay, whatever. Don’t get used to it.” He shrugged before handing Stone the card. “Charge it as you please. I’ll be taking a seat,” he said, walking off as he looked around for a second. He picked a chair in the very corner of the cafe. It had a nice window view, but notably he picked the seat that was more secluded and not near many people. Some of the students that were lounging there were eyeing him. He was perfectly aware they were whispering about him, but he shouldn’t care. He didn’t, anyways.
He pulled out a small laptop out of his bag, along with what seemed to be printed out blueprints and began working there while he waited.
One of Stone’s employees was tasked with getting the food ready, so Stone could focus on perfecting the ratio between milk and strawberries for the milkshake, watching the mixture blend into a soft pink liquid. Pulling out the card he had pocketed earlier – not because he didn’t trust his employees, but because you could never be too safe – he glanced at the engraved name on the plastic. Doctor Ivo Robotnik. What a name. It felt like a boy was destined to end up a grumpy mess with a name like that. Stone uncapped a felt pen to write down “Dr. Robotnik” on a sticker he applied to a tall glass, before filling it up with the milkshake.
A faint ‘ding’ of the oven echoed through the room, both Stone and another worker jumping to take care of it, but with a quick “I got it”, Stone managed to put the warm food on two separate plates. A small glass bowl of marmalade and a knife were put with the croissant, while the plate with french toast was finished off with meticulously arranged strawberry slices. At the register, he charged the exact amount needed – anything above didn’t feel right – stacked one plate on his forearm, the two free hands grabbing the drink and croissants and finally made his way where the man sat in solitude.
He carefully unloaded the order from his hands, being extra careful as to not spill anything on the man’s personal belongings.
“Enjoy!” Stone nodded, stretching out his hands to return the credit card, wrapped in the receipt – snatched out of his grasp in the blink of an eye.
Ivo nodded when the order was served to him, immediately grabbing the milkshake and taking a sip as he continued typing with one hand. He planned on simply working there for an hour or two while he ate his food, but hours after his plate was emptied and his milkshake glass had only melted ice left in it, he was still slaving away on the corner booth. He looked tired, to say the least. He figured he should go home, but the thought of coming home to an empty apartment felt like such a chore to him. He wasn’t into any sort of nightlife activity either unless invited by someone else, so going to bars or clubs to get wasted by himself didn’t seem appealing to him. He had multiple bottles of unopened wine at home that he could indulge in, but again, he preferred trying to focus on completing his work here before he went home.
The rest of Stone’s shift seemingly passed much quicker than in the morning. Stone managed to steal a glance at what the doctor was working on while walking past him to bring food to other tables or take away the empty plates and things were going smoothly for the small team. That was, until the milk steamer began acting up near the end of the day. It couldn’t have been Stone’s fault, this he was sure of – he’d been doing this for so long, it must’ve been one of his employees. But he wouldn’t point the finger at somebody. He didn’t need the stress of dealing with that while having to explain to customers that some coffees couldn’t be made momentarily. Fantastic. Now he had the pleasure of cleaning the whole thing from top to bottom and disassembling it until he got to the root of the problem.
Ivo didn’t even realize it was getting dark. The customers were starting to leave, and he eventually took note that it was probably closing hours already. He sighed as he began packing up his stuff. He hadn’t had dinner; he thought about what food options he had back in his apartment. Canned tuna and a carton of eggs. Appetizing.
Ivo was beyond wealthy. He’s of high class and judging by the way he dressed himself, he was not afraid to splurge. One thing that money couldn’t buy however, was the ability to properly take care of yourself. That applied to Ivo, especially with his very terrible eating and sleeping habits. Hence, he never really bothered stocking up on produce or any food supplies other than instant food. He sighed. He’ll figure it out later, but he should probably leave now. He didn’t really want to be a jerk and hold up this shop’s closing.
The barista let his two employees take over the customer’s orders while he tinkered around with the metal contraption, screwdriver in hand. There was no time for him to look at the clock – he needed to get this fixed until tomorrow and he preferred not to stay here until midnight – but when the young man he employed timidly told the doctor that they were closing, Stone lifted his head to object.
“I’m not leaving yet,” he grumbled in frustration. “You two can go home, I’ll close up when I’m finished. Thanks for the help.” His gratitude fell a little flat, considering he was only looking at the scattered parts of what used to be his milk steamer.
Ivo had managed to pack everything back into his bag. He was sticking around a bit as he was searching for an uber home on his phone. Though that’s when he overheard, who he confirmed to be the owner now, telling his employees that he’ll be staying. He looked over and noticed the man was trying to fix the steamer. He set his bag down as he walked up to the counter, watching him for a bit. By a small glance, he knew what seemed to be the problem, even if he was not totally familiar with coffee machineries, he was very much familiar with anything mechanical. Sure, his specialties were robotics, but he’d be a disgrace if he wasn’t able to do simple machinery repairs.
He was not a repairman, but he surely couldn’t deny himself of a little bit of tinkering. He walked behind the counter without so much as asking. He didn’t need to ask. He was Doctor Ivo Robotnik. Without a word, he looked at the steamer, then took the screwdriver away from the barista. As much as he wasn’t asking, he wasn’t just straight up yanking it away from him either. He was gentle about it – Robotnik level gentle, at the very least. Silently, he began tinkering a bit with the steamer, finally getting to the root of the problem and getting to work on it.
Stone hadn’t even noticed that the doctor invited himself behind the counter, until the taller figure loomed over him to take over the repair. Unintelligible stammering left the barista’s mouth when their hands brushed together, but piped down and stood back to let the master do his work.
It took him around 10 minutes and after a flush to make sure the steamer works again, he handed the screwdriver back to Stone. “You should get going now,” he mentioned as he returned to get his bag and his attention returned to his phone. He still needed an uber home. He was too tired to be walking back and he didn’t bring a car since he walked to campus.
The problem was fixed within minutes. Stone’s evening was saved. He stared at the machine, a little dumbfounded, but mostly impressed.
“That’s… Brilliant, sir,” Stone laughed softly, placing a hand on his forehead in relief. In the corner of his eye, he could see the professor looking for an available uber… He chewed on his lip for a moment, debating whether this was a good idea or not. Buuut the man did help him a great lot just now – why not return the favor?
“Do you need a ride?” He asked, eyebrows raised. “Free of charge,” Stone smirked, reaching behind his back to untie his apron. Luckily he always kept a spare helmet under the seat of his motorcycle and Dr. Robotnik had enough layers of clothes on – it could pass as protective gear.
Ivo was taken by surprise a little bit when the man offered him a ride home. He raised an eyebrow before grinning a bit. “Very upfront of you. I don’t even know your name,” he chuckled as he locked his phone and placed it back in his pocket. “For all I know, you could be a serial killer. Driving me to the middle of the woods and murdering me there.” Despite these words, his grin remained. Accepting rides from strangers was risky, Ivo knew this. But at the same time he would be lying if he said he cared all that much. What was he supposed to look forward to when he gets home? A bottle of wine? More paperwork? A cold bed? Miserable. If this barista were to turn out to be a serial killer (which honestly was unlikely, but then again, you never know) at least his life would be a little more flavorful. And if he survived, he’d get to be that one guy that had a cool near death experience story to tell at every function he goes too.
The serial killer jabs forced a quick chuckle out of the younger man. He was aware the doctor was only half joking, but he decided to play along just for the fun of it. “That would be very stupid of me,” he began, making his way into the staff-only room to throw on his leather gear. “My employees know you were seen last with me.” Gloved hands turned some knobs and flicked some switches – one set of lights turning off after the other – powering the place down entirely.
“Come on. Where’s your ride,” Ivo nagged as he walked up the exit door. He never outright said it, but it became apparent he had accepted the offer. “I’m getting old here.”
The two men left the building unceremoniously, the door clicking shut with a whirring noise, indicating that it had been locked and Stone led the way to his two-wheeled beauty. Stone pulled his own helmet over his head to free his hands, while the spare helmet was fetched with a swift motion. He debated throwing it towards the doctor, ultimately deciding against it and simply handing it over.
“Don’t let it ruin the mustache!” Stone’s muffled voice warned the stranger, smacking the seat back down to close the now empty compartment and swinging a leg over it to take a seat.
“Jump on!” he patted the space behind him, then snatched his phone out of his own pocket to open Google Maps and offer it to the passenger.
Ivo was quite surprised when he found out the ride in question was a motorcycle. He hadn’t been on one before, as it was a bit of a lesser common mode of transportation around these parts. But he knew realistically he would be able to trust someone with professional biking gear to be able to handle a motorcycle properly. He put on the helmet before hopping on the back of the vehicle. He took the phone handed to him and began typing.
“You technically didn’t deny that you’re a serial killer. My, my. What would happen to me after I type in my full address into your phone.” He said, snickering to himself. He typed down the address of his apartment before handing the phone back.
Stone was glad he had a helmet on – he didn’t particularly want Dr. Robotnik to see him grinning from ear to ear. Poor sod didn’t entirely miss the mark with the whole serial killer spiel, but Stone wasn’t that sloppy. Besides, he had grown to enjoy their interactions. There was a feeling of victory burning at his core. Who knew Doctor Robotnik was so easily swayed by a good coffee and some warm sweets?
“I know you haven’t had dinner,” Ivo bluntly stated. “There’s a sushi place near my apartment. Make a stop there. I’ll buy you something to eat,” he said as he grabbed hold at the back of the motorcycle, just to make sure he wouldn’t fall off. He knew that this was his way of thanking him for fixing the machine, but he himself wanted to grab some takeout. Might as well get something for his ride, too. It seemed like the socially correct thing to do.
“Are you sure you want to keep spending money on me?” Stone craned his head back to look at the man through his visor and checking if he put the helmet on correctly. One glance at where the hands were positioned was enough for him to shake his head dismissively.
“If you hold on to the bike like that, you’re gonna fall off.” While one gloved hand was positioned on the corresponding handlebar, the other reached backwards to gently grasp the doctor’s wrist, pulling it forward and around his midriff.
Ivo was quite tense when their hands touched. Ah, right. He wasn’t a fan of being touched. He was wearing gloves 24/7 not just because he was cold, but rather to mitigate physical contact with others. He simply was touch averse, which is no one’s fault. He should probably let the other know, however. He was still trying to work on telling people instead of blowing up when he got overwhelmed.
“Don’t worry, I don’t bite. That’s why I have the helmet on,” Stone chuckled. Once he was assured the passenger was sitting safely, Stone turned on the engine, kicked away the rack and took off into the night. The bike hummed therapeutically below them as they cruised down the streets – Stone purposefully toning his reckless driving down out of respect for the man’s heart – occasionally glancing down at his phone to check the navigation.
Robotnik was quite tense during the entire ride, tightening his grip around the biker’s leather jacket. Though he wouldn’t lie, it was an absolutely thrilling experience. He wouldn’t say it was negative at all.
When they got to the sushi place – which was a bit hard not to notice considering they had flashy neon lights with Japanese kanji etched onto them, brightly signing that they were open – Ivo hopped down and took off the helmet. His hair was quite disheveled, having most of them fall in front of his face. Though he didn’t bother fixing it much.
Stone’s gaze lingered on the neon signs for a moment, before taking off his helmet. He needed to freshen up his Japanese, he figured, ruffling his short hair to look less silly.
“Oh, right. I’d like to tell you not to touch me before asking first next time,” Ivo casually stated as he entered the sushi place. He didn’t sound mad at all. He was merely giving a simple warning, which he did tell to most of his co-workers. Some still chose to not adhere to his discretion and kept touching him out of nowhere. Yes, he couldn’t really do anything about that, but at least giving discretion first allowed him to blow up on them without severe repercussions.
Big doe eyes widened in alarm when the doctor mentioned him grabbing his hands unpromptedly. He had a feeling the man had an issue with it after how tense he grew on the bike but wrongly wrote it off as nervousness.
“I apologize, I didn’t— I should’ve said something.” Ivo wasn’t angry, but it was apparent this was a big issue for him. Stone couldn’t quite find the words how to express that he would respect those boundaries in the future. The best thing he could do was strictly follow those rules from now on.
“Go pick a menu. I’m not afraid of spending money on you. What do you take me as? Poor?” Ivo asked, raising an eyebrow. He was not shy about telling everyone that he was loaded, that much was sure. He was very flashy with his clearly branded outfit and the way he carried himself. Sure, he couldn’t really go around telling everyone that most of the money he earned wasn’t from his job as a university professor, but because he was often contracted by the government to build and engineer things for them. He didn’t care how shady it was. He liked building things, and money was another incentive – even if that was not a main driving factor for Ivo).
Robotnik’s entire attire and equipment were clear indicators of his wealth from the start – where the money came from was none of Stone’s business, nor did he really care. It would’ve been a miracle if he himself managed to come this far without some sketchy work on the side. But it was still baffling to him that this complete stranger was willing to buy him dinner, especially considering the attitude he’d gotten from him this morning.
After a quick look at the menu, Stone settled for a simple egg fried rice and crispy chicken tenders. It would be a lie to say he didn’t purposely pick something on the cheaper side, just so he wouldn’t feel too indebted to the doctor.
Ivo looked at the menu and ordered a simple poke bowl takeout and pulled out his card. “I know you know my name. You haven’t given me yours yet, potential serial killer,” Ivo quipped, turning to Stone as he went to pay.
Stone smirked and drummed his fingers against the counter. It had been fun staying nameless, but he couldn’t avoid the question much longer. “It’s Stone, Doctor.” he answered, eyes panning around the restaurant and finally landing back on the stranger. The disheveled hair suited him in a way. A mad scientist way, the longer he thought about it. After catching himself looking for a little too long, he averted his gaze, pondering if any type of small talk would worsen or lighten the situation.
“Stone. I don’t even get a first name?” Ivo asked. He deduced that Stone was his last name, considering that it was not typically a first name, but a rather common last name. He didn’t mind however. He didn’t like going by first name basis either. Ivo resorted to just waiting at the counter rather than taking a seat, seeing as there was no line behind them anyways.
Stone chuckled softly. “You’re a smart man, Doctor. You’ll figure it out eventually.” He definitely preferred to keep his first name private. Not even his employees know it – so why would he give a man he hasn’t even known for a whole day the privilege of hearing it?
Robotnik was mostly on his phone. Judging by his furrowed brows, tense expression and furious typing, whoever was at the receiving end of his text was not getting a pleasant good night message. He scoffed angrily as he turned off his phone. “Volltrottel,” he cursed under his breath.
Listening to the man swear in German was oddly fun. Stone remembered listening to his rant earlier, but he couldn’t fully make out what he was saying. It was either a Bavarian or an Austrian dialect, that he knew, but it’s not easy to distinguish the two, let alone decipher them.
“I take it you teach at the university?” Stone pried, leaning with his back against the counter, arms crossed in front of his chest. The doctor looked from his phone at Stone when he asked him, his expression softened ever so slightly.
“Wow, must take a genius to figure that out. Yeah, I’m a professor there,” he answered. “It pays well.” He stated as he picked up the takeouts that were finally ready. He handed Stone’s bag to him before walking to the exit with his own takeout bag. Of course, what he said was partially a lie. Sure, it paid averagely. But he wouldn’t say it was “well” compared to his commission gigs.
“I assume you’re the new owner of the coffee shop. It rebranded, I noticed. What happened to the previous owner?” Ivo asked as he hopped back on the motorcycle and placed his helmet on. He figured if Stone were to ask questions about his job, he might as well do the same.
After acquiring their dinner, Stone followed suit, mounting his bike as he spoke. “Must take a genius to figure that out,” he echoed. “Last owner got locked up for money laundering. I was assistant manager at the time and decided I might as well save the place… In a way.” He turned his phone back on to check their route, this time waiting for the doctor to hold on to him on his own volition. “Don’t lose the food, or I’ll charge you gas money for the way back.” Stone joked.
Robotnik listened about how the previous owner was charged with money laundering, to which he just hummed. He really couldn’t care less. People have done worse. Hell, he has done worse. So it’s not like he can judge. Ivo then rolled his eyes at Stone’s light jabs. “Watch your tongue. You’re younger than me,” he warned. Ivo could tell, judging by Stone’s appearance alone, that he was at least 20 or so years younger than him. “Millennials,” he scoffed, shaking his head as he carefully held onto the other’s biker jacket. It felt nice being able to initiate the physical contact first. It was pleasantly comforting Stone actually respected that boundary, as most people he knew tend to just forget or straight up say he’s being dramatic for setting up the boundaries in the first place.
They soon arrived at his apartment. Ivo hopped off and removed his helmet, handing it over to Stone. “Thanks for the ride. Thanks for not driving me to the woods and killing me, either,” Ivo said. Stone threw in a quick “Maybe next time”, holding on to the second helmet for a short while, before putting it back in the mini-trunk. When he was seated on his bike again, he flicked the visor on his helmet upwards, so his face came into view. A goodbye felt a little more sincere that way. Less… Murderer-ish.
Ivo brushed off his coat and waved goodbye. “I’ll be returning to your coffee shop when I can. Have a good night,” he nodded, before walking off to his apartment building. It was a tiring day, but the interactions he had with that Stone was all but positive. It was nice to have that once in a while, especially when you’re working with a bunch of smartass assholes all the time.
“I’ll look forward to it! Good night, Doctor.” And with a final wave, he pushed the visor back down and sped off.
The way home wasn’t much longer than usual, but long enough for him to notice how the other man’s warmth on his back faded away. What a weirdo. He couldn’t help but find him fascinating. Stone’s evening program was uneventful to say the least. Coming home to a cold apartment room wasn’t the highlight of his day, but the free dinner made up for it. Only after he finished eating did he notice how tired he actually was, and if he wanted to be in a tolerable mood tomorrow, he better hit the hay asap.