Chapter Text
Seagulls flutter around the ferry terminal. The ship docked at the seaside town is a few minutes away from setting off.
“You sure you don’t need anything?” asks the eager racoon woman by the name of Scraps, grasping Amy’s paws in both of hers.
Beaming, Amy says, “Not at all! I should be asking you that.”
“Girl, you carried my furniture up two floors. Four times. When you said you could lend a paw, I didn’t think you’d just grab everything yourself. And you got angry at me for trying to help carry my own shit up the steps.” With a raised brow, the raccoon utters a laugh of disbelief. “Like, what the fuck.”
Amy waves her off. “You’re pregnant. Like I’d let you do that.” Amy’s technically two years older than her. The fact that Scraps is pregnant just makes Amy feel younger than her for some reason. Parents are people like Vanilla the Rabbit. Adults who actually feel like they know they’re adults. People with an aura indicating they have some wisdom. Not a twenty-year-old racoon who still talks and moves with all the youth still in her step.
Scraps snorts. “My spawn better toughen up if me hauling things for more than ten seconds is their limit.”
“Don’t call them that!” Amy scolds, though she fails to hold in her laugh. “That’s so mean!”
“Hey, carry a litter of five and you’ll be taking those words back.”
Scraps doesn’t look pregnant. Being fluffy makes it hard to tell just how far alone she is. Unlike humans, who’d balloon when pregnant and stay pregnant for nine months with just one baby, things aren’t as clear cut with Mobians. Each subspecies is different, for starters. Amy’s not too well versed on raccoons, but a litter of five sounds about right. And a litter means the kits are small to make room for one another. Gestation periods vary, six to ten months, depending on subspecies.
Unlike humans who have to be careful with how they move, Mobians are generally more physically robust; their reproductive system is built to withstand strenuous activities, with fluid bags cushioning the babies. Still, it doesn’t mean the moms won’t tire out. Amy wasn’t going to let someone carry boxes and drag a coach up a few flights of stairs.
“Seriously, though,” Amy says, a bit of concern in her eyes, smiling lightly, “I can stay a little longer if you need me to, until you settle in. My friends will understand.”
Like Tails and Knuckles, after the events of Starfall Islands, Amy’s left to do her own thing. Over the course of her five-month-long journey around the world, she’d said many goodbyes to friends she’d made along the way. She’d cross paths with strangers, they’d already know her name from the papers, so they’d introduce themselves. She’d help around town, do volunteer work, fundraiser events—those sorts of things.
“Nah, girl, I’ll be fine,” Scraps insisted. “Although, I’m keeping your number in case I need ya to scare the crap out of Mr. One Minute Man if he shows his face again.”
Mr. One Minute Man: AKA, Scraps’ ex fossa boyfriend who’d gotten her and a bilby he was cheating on her with pregnant. Soon as Scraps told him she was pregnant, he’d dumped her via text, then tried seeking comfort with his bilby side chick, only for the bilby to find out he’d been a cheating sleazebag and that she too was pregnant. Mr. One Minute Man came crawling back to Scraps, begging to get back with her after the second woman called him an idiot and threatened to scratch his face off if he didn’t leave her alone.
By Gaia’s sheer humorous irony and their shared loathing of the guy, Scraps and the bilby got along well enough that they’ve decided to move in together into a place by the sea. Amy’s introduction to this whole drama began when she'd seen a disgruntled fossa attempting to beg and love-bomb his way into a relationship with the two women packing up their belongings into a moving van.
Amy had scared the daylights out of him, sent him running. In gratitude, the girls let her hitch a ride with them in the bilby’s tiny beetle car that trailed the moving van, chatting and listening to Jordan Powers’ Pretty Girl Swag on the way. Amy had stayed to assist in moving their belongings while the bilby had gone off to her doctor’s appointment.
“Of course! You’re free to call me anytime!” Amy giggles. Her ears perk up at the sound of the ferry blowing its horn. “That’s my ride. Keep in touch, okay? Let me know when you girls have the babies.”
“I will! Think up some names for these parasites for me okay?”
“Stop! Oh my gosh!”
As fun as this trip was, Amy misses her friends. Their wristwatch communicators have been their main method of communicating with each other. Knuckles had been off treasure hunting, which meant he got into caves and all sorts of areas that restricted how well his communicator worked. They’d only hear from him on the rare occasions, grumbling that the message alerts from his communicator woke him up, the unfortunate consequence of time zones.
He was at least off of his island. Not entirely alone, if Rouge’s flirtatious teasing voice in the background of his calls were any indication to go by. It always startled him, got him agitated, angry, like he thought he’d for sure shaken the bat off days ago after she’d allegedly tried swiping the treasures he’d found.
Admittedly, it’s Amy’s fault Rouge started tailing him; Amy might’ve casually mentioned what everyone was off doing during one of her and Rouge’s girl-calls. Knuckles doesn’t need to know that. At least he’s not by himself. Five months away from Angel Island might be a record for him. Tails had to put up some technological security measures around Angel Island—hovering drones, and sensors on the island’s ground. Something to put Knuckles’ mind at ease.
Tails had been more thorough with his weekly check-ins. He’d landed himself in the news for assisting in fixing a broken dam. Amy had been in a hotel up a snowy mountain when she saw it on TV half asleep and a tad tipsy from the chilled free wine found in the hotel’s mini fridge, the open glass bottle colder after she’d left it on the ledge of her closed window, the mountain air seeping through the seems.
Everyone had been busy. Everyone but Sonic. And it showed.
It wasn’t like him to text so much. He must’ve been incredibly bored if he had the time to send Amy landscape pictures and text her:
[I dreamt egghead was trying to sell me health insurance like i need that and Tails called asking if I could help hide a body]
[And i thought sure pal im on my way]
[sooo long story short there’s no body abd]
[tails got disappointed in me when i said we can make it look like some fancy pants art project Idk ames feels like hes more upset i come over]
[cause now i gotta convince him i wasn’t playing around just to check up on him like i dont trust he can do this himself]
[the adventure not the hide the body thing but he can do that too]
Amy remembered hesitating to ask if he was okay.
Only Knuckles had beat her to it, texting: [Do i even want to know??]
Followed by tails’ text: [Sonic it’s the group chat]
It took Sonic a full minute before texting back [shoot. right] then [wasnt that bad of an idea tho right?]
It was surreal to witness him be so… erratic? Well, more so than usual. Sonic hates sitting still. But he knows when to relax, too. He’s a master at snoozing in random locations. While Amy herself takes multiple naps throughout the day—compensating for her nocturnal hedgehog nature— she can’t possibly see herself sleeping out in the open. The best she can do is dig a burrow and curl up in there.
Sonic just has two modes: superfast and couch potato.
So it’s puzzling to see him texting the equivalent of shower thoughts so often. At times, Tails would point out just how late it was where Sonic was. As a response, Sonic would just run to somewhere where the sun was up. She’d texted him if he was okay, and only had herself to blame when he’d insist he was, because, truly, what else was she expecting from someone like Sonic?
In a one-on-one facetime call between Amy and Tails, she’d apprehensively told him, “I don’t think he’s taking the fact Eggman’s gone on vacation well.”
Or ‘parental leave’, or whatever the Evil Mad Scientist career equivalent to it is. Apparently, almost causing world inhalation and obtaining a little AI girl after the whole Starfall Islands fiasco is something Eggman is willing to put the brakes on for. Would’ve been adorable if it wasn’t, well, Eggman.
It’s at least reassuring that Sage got a good deal out of it; unlike Eggman’s very blatant dislike of his first creations, Orbot and Cubot, he at least likes her. He’d preferred Metal Sonic, but in the sacrificial child soldier sort of way. And she can’t recall Eggman taking time off from villainy for Metal Sonic. She does remember finding a broken Metal Sonic in the snow, looking sad and pathetic enough for her to drag—what her child-self had seen as her bully at the time—back to Eggman. Sage is no doubt Eggman’s favorite now, taking Metal Sonic’s throne and bumping him down to Middle Child status.
But no Eggman means nothing exciting for Sonic to do. In a way, Eggman’s ‘paternity leave’ has rendered Sonic jobless, if being a hero is considered a job.
On the call, Tails had sheepishly admitted, “I don’t think Sonic’s taking his prescription on time since I'm not there to remind him.” Despite a reminder alert being set in Sonic’s wristwatch, he’d snooze the alarm, then either get distracted or tell himself he'll do it later, then forget entirely.
Honestly, the combination of him missing his ADHD medication, and Eggman’s paternity leave, could be why he’s being strangely clingy.
And maybe he’s just lonely now, weird as it might be. They all haven’t exactly enjoyed their time on Starfall Islands, glitching in and out of reality, and dissociating harder than her frustratingly embarrassing failed IUD insertion two weeks ago. (The doctor had told her it’d just pinch. She’d lied. Thank Gaia for free healthcare on Mobian islands. It’d be a robbery if she’d needed to pay for contraceptives and heat cycle management medication.) And right after, suddenly all of Sonic’s friends spread out. That’s… kind of sad, Amy thinks. She didn’t think too much about how all of his friends going off on their own at the same time would affect him. He’s Sonic. She assumed, like everyone else, that he’d be fine. And he’d been fine for the first few months until he began texting more frequently that it became evident he’d missed them.
In fact, when Tails said he’d be coming back—admitting to Amy on a private call that he’d missed his big brother too—and Amy herself announced she might be coming back as well, Sonic excited proposed a reunion party at Tails’, with pizza and soda, and maybe a video game night if Knuckles isn’t afraid of being a ‘sore loser.’ It was obviously bait for Knuckles. One that worked. Though knowing Knuckles, he probably wanted to return to his island anyway.
The ferry sounds off again. It’s hard to tell that it’s moving with how slow it turns away from the port. She leans her elbows against the deck railing, letting the ocean breeze tickle her fur. It’s going to be a six-day trip; Tails might already be home by now.
She has time to just relax on the ferry. She eats lemon baked cod, writes in her journal, sketches in her messy art book in her cabin, and before she goes to bed, she turns the lights of her cabin off, leaves the overhead lamp on to read a book, and ends up shedding tears while reading the last few pages of a tragic romance novel. Finishing that felt good. Cathartic. Even if the fur of her muzzle is a bit damp. She dabs her handkerchief over her face. Her headband is on the nightstand, leaving her quills to freely spread out like Sonic’s.
Her wristwatch communicator—also on the nightstand—lights up and beeps. Incoming video call from Sonic.
She giggles wetly and reaches for it. He probably forgot which island she’s on again and got the time zone wrong. Again.
Her finger and thumb press the two little buttons on the disc of the watch, and it opens like a clam. The screen turns on. Sonic’s launching on the ugly green sofa she remembers Tails has in his downstairs workshop.
“Hey, Ames!” He’s all happy grins and teeth. “Just checking in. Tails made it early and—” His smile falters, the glimmer of delight in his eyes turns into shock, then concern. “Woah, hey, everything okay?” His happy-go-lucky voice switches into something more gentle. There’s a metallic squeak from somewhere on his end; Tails shifting his computer chair, maybe.
“Yeah? Why do you ask?” Amy then pauses upon hearing herself. Her nose is clogged. Right. She’d been crying. She laughs sheepishly at the realization. “Oh! Oh gosh, I wasn’t expecting to see anyone this late. It’s nothing. Sorry about that.” Instinctively, her paw reaches for her eyes, rubbing at her lashes in case she’s got tears.
Sonic just stares like he’s trying to solve a riddle on her face. It’s clear he’s not convinced by her answer. “You sure? Doesn’t look like nothing to me. Did something happen?”
She rolls her eyes. As sweet as he’s being, she’s telling the truth. There’s literally no reason for him to worry because some fictional guy had to say goodbye to his ghost boyfriend. “No, nothing. It’s fine, Sonic. Really. Just read something sad but I’m over it now.” She was not over it—the ghost boyfriend had realized him lingering around was preventing his loved one from grieving him properly. He had to leave permanently, and that’s going to mess her up for another day or two.
Sonic clenches his teeth shut, the calculated look on his face evident that he doesn’t fully believe her. There’s a hint of determination in his eyes Amy’s familiar with. That stubborn kind he wears when he thinks there’s some injustice happening somewhere that he needs to fix.
“Alright. You win.” Thankfully, he lets it slide. “It’s that late, eh? Didn’t mean to make you miss your beauty sleep.” His smirk is one-sided.
She knows what he’s doing. Relenting that she’s not going to talk about what he wants to talk about, intending to bring it up in person later at a later time if she doesn't bring it up herself eventually. There’s literally nothing to talk about. She’s kind of embarrassed now about crying over an angsty young adult book. Maybe Sonic will continue forgetting to take his medication when she’s visiting—he’ll forget to bring up the topic and save her the excuse of explaining what book made her ugly cry.
“Says Mr. I-need-my-nine-hours-of-shuteye-or-I-can’t-run,” she says with an arching brow.
“Touché, mademoiselle.”
She instinctively cringes. “Ew, please, no.”
He barks a laugh. “No, what? The French?”
“Yes, I think I’ve had enough of that.”
His snickers, biting his lip. There’s a mischievous look in his eyes, detecting some gossip he can’t wait to hear. “Should've stopped at ‘Yes.’ Now you gotta tell me. You made it to France?”
She exaggeratingly groans, throwing her head back against the pillow stack. “No, just ended up in a human French neighborhood in a Mobian town. I had to help this poor crocodile family get their kids back from humans after—get this—after humans took them away because the parents were 'unemployed'.”
Sonic’s wheezing. Literally uttering a kettle whistle. In danger of dying from exhaustion at this point.
Amy snorts at the memory, seeing the humor in it but still annoyed by it. “I tried explaining that the family is part of a community that takes care of each other, so that’s not an issue. Then they said the kids were so neglected that they were found half-frozen in the winter with slow heartbeats and… they were just—”
“They were hibernating!” Sonic exclaimed, laughing in disbelief.
“—hibernating! They took the children when they were sleeping! I told them that’s kidnapping, give them back. But no, they wanted passports and certificates and whatever.”
Aside from Rouge and maybe Shadow, she doesn’t know any other Mobians with a passport. Many Mobians could literally fly or swim without the need of public transportation, and those in rural populations don’t have birth certificates or other paperwork ‘proving’ they exist. Passports were mostly a human thing, granted in human cities.
Heck, Amy only knows Rouge has too many human-made passports because the bat casually mentioned they were given to her by GUN for mission conveniences. And if GUN made her passports, then it’s not farfetched to assume they’d done the same for Shadow, the only one she knows who has a birth certificate. A birth certificate listing his a false birthday date, names of parents he doesn’t have, the ‘surname’ Robotnik (because humans have a thing for ownership of other people), and a hospital name Shadow had likely never set foot in. GUN can’t admit he was born in space.
Human passports and human paperwork. Many human countries don’t consider Mobian passports as authentic. Asking a very rural Mobian community for a passport is laughably stupid.
“I tried to play nice but they decided to be jerks, so I just took the kids myself,” she says. It’s summarized, really. She may have brandished the hammer and yelled some threats. “They said I was kidnapping the kids. Excuse me?! You guys did it first! Jeez.”
Sonic wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “Surprised you gave them that many chances.”
“Oh, I wasn’t done. Sometime later, I guess these humans had an adult daughter and she heard what happened. Found me to apologize. She was so sweet. She then gave me some cookies and said they were ‘the good stuff.’ I thought she meant they were delicious?”
Sonic’s eyes bug out. “No.” He looks torn between being shocked and wanting to burst out laughing all over again. “No, you’re messing with me—you gotta be.”
“I ate them on the train.” She rubbed her forehead. “I thought the train took off into space or something. It was just colors.”
“They were edibles!”
“They were edibles,” she says.
On Sonic’s end, in the background, Amy heard Tails’ muffled screech of “They were what?!” Amy almost forgets he’s fifteen now, not eight.
She’s not going to mention stepping off the train and worrying which dimension did the train drop her off at. A bespectacled leopard Mobian had asked her if she was okay, and she’d blurted out 'I don’t know. I don’t feel like dealing with another runaway train being a toxic ex. It’s not even my birthday this time. The cookies are in my head. Ask me when I’m sober.' He’d anxiously asked her if she needed him to call her a taxi, to which she said she didn’t need the taxi driver to babysit her until she sobered up. “That, ugh, that day was a mess.”
“Oh Chaos, I can't believe you got high.” Sonic chuckles with his paw on his forehead.
She can briefly hear Tails asking him if she’s okay. Sonic reassures him he got poisoned during Amy’s birthday party and he turned out fine—edibles shouldn’t be that bad. Tails hisses something about hedgehogs being partially immune to some substances.
“I’m fine, Tails. I got a doctor to look at me. Thank you for asking,” she says, then jokingly grumbles, “At least one of you is considerate.”
“Hey, you handled it like a boss, didn't you?” Sonic shrugs, smirking, knowing she’s not serious. “Besides, sounds like the lady wasn’t lying about them being ‘the good stuff’ if you were seeing shrimp colors. Do regular colors still hit the same, now? Just curious.”
“I’m going to hit you as soon as I’m back.”
“And here I thought you’d be glad to see me. Don’t ya just wanna relax after dealing with the French?”
“Keep this up and I might consider dragging you to swimming lessons.”
He lifted a paw in surrender. “Alright, you win.” He’s still grinning. “I should let you get to bed. Tails’ about to head out and fetch Knuckles; the guy’s gonna take centuries getting here at this rate. Need me to come pick you up? Or I could ask Tails if he’d be passing you by.”
In the background, Tails pipes up, “I don’t mind, Amy!”
Her eyes feel dry when she blinks. She really needs to sleep. She hadn’t been taking as many afternoon naps as usual. It wouldn’t hurt to have a big meal tomorrow, then turn down the temperature of her cabin and take a short five-day hibernation period to recharge. “I’m good for now. I’m on a ferry. Taking the ocean shortcut home. Don’t make that face, Sonic,” she chides, seeing him cringe at the thought of being on a ferry in the ocean. “Some of us actually appreciate the beauty of the ocean. Oh, it’s so gorgeous when the water changes colors with the sky. It’s so quiet, too. I’ve had a busy few months—”
“Dealing with the French,” Sonic supplemented.
“—I deserve some peace and quiet,” she emphasizes, a bit too aggressively. “I’m not passing up a chance for a nice ocean trip before I ease myself back into my usual routines... And before Eggman ends his paternity leave.” That mad scientist lost to a hedgehog and made this gripe his whole personality. “Anyway, might take five or six days for me to touch land again, so don’t wait up for me if you have things to do; I might be the last one back.”
Chuckling lightly, Sonic props his cheek against the knuckles of his paw, half-lidded eyes relaxed, a tiny smirk on his muzzle. “Nah, not really a reunion without everyone here. I don’t wanna be the one telling Cream how could we start the party without ya. Enjoy your little cruise across water, water, and more water. Maybe you’ll get to play Fetch the Fries with seagulls whenever you get bored.”
She playfully sticks her tongue at him. “Sourpuss.”
“That’s Shadow’s title. And good luck with any icebergs out there.” He does a two-finger salute.
Sighing with a gentle smile, Amy shakes her head. “Behave yourself. Goodnight. Tell Tails ‘goodnight’ for me.” Even though it’s probably not that dark over where they’re at.
Tails voices out, “G’night, Amy!”
Sonic snickers lightheartedly. The paw he’s been leaving his head against reaches for the screen, presumably lining his thumb and finger against the two buttons. “Sorry I kept you up. Night, Ames.”
Her brain's already shutting off, one bit at a time. With a yawn, she says, “S’fine. Love you. Night.” Her fingers are on the buttons of her watch. Not yet applying pressure. She thinks she hears Sonic say “Love you too” half a second before he ended the call.
It’s when her screen turns black that a loose screw in her brain rolls back into place. She blinks. Flicks an ear. She’s almost sure she’d imagined that last bit. Yeah. That’s it. She’d missed too many naps and now her thoughts are all loose. Her therapist did warn her Mobian hedgehogs still need lots of sleep to make up for the neglect of their semi-nocturnal instincts.
But the screen of her wrist watch, still in front of her face, lights up suddenly, momentarily flashbanging her. She squints at the screen. Text notifications, one after another. They’re sent in quick, frantic successions.
[I DID MEAN IT LIKE THAT]
[*DIDN’T]
[!!!]
[I TELL TAILS THAT ALL THE TIME ITS A HABIT]
She stares for another solid minute before chuckling lightly to herself, her muzzle feeling warm. Even if he hadn’t meant it in that way, she’s content with how things are right now. She’s never been shy about loving him. He’d flirt here and there on occasions, teasing, giving her flowers, giving her quiet time when she needs it. Tempting her just enough to satisfy her cravings while keeping it just shy from crossing that line that’d shift their partnership into another kind.
His not-so-subtle gestures at least tell her he’s interested. Just not ready. Not now. And maybe never will be ready.
And that’s fine. He’s calling and that's nice. It’s a welcome change compared to how he’d been to her when they were children, back when it seemed like their little ragtag group of orphans messing with Eggman was an all-boys club.
Or, rather, Sonic didn’t want her joining; Tails had been much, much younger, and Sonic was his whole world, so it’s understandable he’d stick to Sonic, leaving her as an afterthought. Knuckles was an odd case. He was a loner, had a shorter social battery and kept to himself, only got involved when necessary. He butted heads with Sonic just as much as he does now, mainly due to Sonic’s attitude that made Knuckles’ temper flare.
She was left behind regularly. It was hard to fit in anywhere when girls thought she was too tomboyish, loud, short-tempered, and weird about future readings; while the boys didn’t really seem to want her joining in on their adventures for some reason. Maybe it’s this children’s game of chivalry that says she’s not supposed to be amongst the three musketeers.
Or maybe it was that she didn't have powers. Not like Sonic or Tails. And while her physical strength was above average for a Mobian hedgehog—something other little girls were mean about, calling her a tomboy—it was nowhere near close to what Knuckles could do. There was something about her being impulsive with a hammer, then going off to have tea parties with flickies, that apparently put her in that in-between status of being a hero and a civilian.
Could be all of the above reasons why she’d struggled to make friends back then.
…Her suspicions of being on the autism spectrum might add to that list, but she’s not ready to do another evaluation for a third ‘inconclusive’ result.
She can’t pinpoint just when Sonic had started mellowing out about who could join in on kicking Eggman’s butt, or when exactly he’d started flirting back and holding her paw oh so casually, as though his touch aversion had never been an issue in the past. Whatever led to this, it’s at least clear enough to her that he’s interested in her.
Just not in an official relationship. She can respect that. She’s told him she would never want to change him. He’s a free spirit. Unconventional. She’s not expecting a traditional relationship from him, that’s for certain.
She mentions this to acquaintances whenever they ask what exactly is going on between her and him. Half the time, they assume she means it in a different way entirely.
She’s been met with various awkward forms of “Ah. The whole… trans thing, right?” It never fails to make her pause and blink. Because she forgets the fact that Sonic doesn’t physically present fully male.
Male Mobian hedgehogs of mature age grow chest manes, sometimes all around the neck. Sonic doesn’t have that. It’s not even remotely close to how some males just happen to have extremely thin manes. He has absolutely no chest mane whatsoever. He still has the tan fur on his arms, something he should’ve shed and replaced with rougher, darker colored fur during his teenage years. He’s twenty-four. Way past that stage.
His voice change was delayed, cracking like a teenager’s for years, taking a ridiculously long time for his voice to settle into something deeper. She’s still not used to hearing that adult voice come out of him, not that she doesn’t like it. He has male scent glands. To most Mobians, it’s noticeable. It’s very possible it’s something he developed from being on HRT, she just never truly thought about his identity until somebody else brings it up.
She’s known him for so long—almost her whole life—that it never really occurred to her he might be trans. It’s just easy to let details breeze past when they’re always present, never pointed out. He never really… ‘came out’? Not as far as she knows. Not that he ever had or needed to. Didn’t really matter, either way. He’s obviously comfortable with himself. Always has been (as long as nobody reminds him of his werehog incident.)
The possibility he’s trans didn’t change how she felt about him, still feels about him. So, no, that has nothing to do with her not expecting a traditional relationship with him. It’s everything else. It’s him being himself, and her loving that about him.
She’s content with what they have. For now.
The topic of Scraps' pregnancy causes one of Amy's long-held desires to resurface: her wanting to be a mom someday.
TBC