acesonuckles

[acesonuckles]

send me a number and a ship! - #93: “This isn’t who I am.” [REQUESTS CLOSED]

I’m will finish these gdi! I know it’s months later but I’m done with school so now we can be gay again! 

This one is in the @acesonuckles universe, but the only thing you really need to know is that Sonic and Knuckles adopted Tails and are raising him. Tails is a little younger than in canon (about four or five when Sonic and Knuckles are 19 and 20). 

Clothes shopping is a hobby, not an obligation, but Sonic loves to do it so they do it. Knuckles doesn’t quite understand it, the aesthetics and the trends and the whole idea. Sure, his culture has ceremonial dress, but that has a purpose; this—this shopping for fun, trying on clothes to see if they look good—this he doesn’t understand. But, Sonic likes it, and Knuckles gets to sit in the air conditioning—a new love, something he didn’t have on the Island, this climate control—with a sparkling water (the closest he gets to indulgence) and a big grin.

Because Sonic likes to do fashion shows.

They started when they brought Tails shopping once and they were trying on clothes together. Tails, in all his four-year-old glory, loved flaunting his little boy shorts and his t-shirts, and Sonic followed suit in tank tops and cargo pants (“dancing clothes,” he said, with a wink; Knuckles had no idea what that meant). Now though, when it’s just the two of them, Sonic still insists on showing off his clothes and getting Knuckles’s honest opinion. Usually, Knuckles just follows Sonic’s lead because he telegraphs if he likes something as he leaves the dressing room with a slight uptick to his eyebrows and the corners of his mouth (up slightly, he likes it; down, he doesn’t). So far, they’ve gone through multiple t-shirts, two of which Sonic liked, some jean shorts that Sonic completely vetoed, and now they’re on to jeans.

“Okay, get ready,” Sonic calls, like he always does, to make sure Knuckles is paying attention. Knuckles has a tendency to zone out because he’s used to sitting still and not thinking, so he appreciates the warning, and he looks up from where he was analyzing the soft patterns in the chair across from him.

Sonic saunters out in a pair of the tightest jeans Knuckles has ever seen. They look like they’ve been slashed across the legs and knees and they’re frayed to all hell, but, as Knuckles tracks his eyes up from Sonic’s socked feet, up his legs, past the rips in the knees, and up to his hips, his mouth goes dry. Sonic doesn’t have very wide hips, but the jeans accentuate what’s there. And, by Chaos, it’s good— Sonic’s legs and hips and glutes are toned. Knuckles suddenly feels everything slow down, and he can feel sweat bead across his brow. He surreptitiously wipes it away while Sonic’s facing the mirror.

“What do you think?” Sonic asks as he turns so he can look at his backside in the mirror. “Too punk?”

Knuckles tries to speak, but his voice comes out strained and like he’s got a frog in his throat. “They’re— okay,” he decides, trying to be amicable to both himself and Sonic, since he can tell that Sonic possibly isn’t very keen on them. He’s got the downturned lips of displeasure.

“This isn’t who I am,” Sonic says as he gestures at the rips, down past those damn hips.

Knuckles swallows forcefully and clears his throat; he ignores the suspicious glance Sonic sends him. “It could be you,” Knuckles returns.

“It could be Shadow,” Sonic shoots back, then adds: “It is Shadow. I’m not Shadow.” He puts his hands on his hips and leans over to test the flexibility of the fabric. “Stretchy though,” he declares.

Knuckles can’t reply because his mind has gone appropriately blank at the sight of Sonic’s long, long legs, so he just says, “Um…”

“Hm.” Sonic finally looks up and catches Knuckles’s face in the mirror. What sees there is Knuckles’s absolutely bright red (redder than usual—blush red) face and his stick-straight, panicked posture, because he doesn’t quite want Sonic to know how into him he is in this moment. Sonic figures it out easily though. He grins a slow, easy grin, but there’s a hit of wickedness there. “Here, hold on.”

He pads toward Knuckles and reaches for his hands. Gently and with great deliberateness to give Knuckles a chance to pull away, he places those large, mitted hands on his own hips. “What do you think?” His grin widens further as Knuckles lets out a small squeak. “Of the fabric, I mean.”

Knuckles tries. He gives it his best shot. He rubs the fabric underneath his fingers but can’t tell much because he has gloves on and Sonic knows it. But still, he tries.

“It’s…” He sighs. “It’s good. I like the pants.”

Sonic laughs. “I knew you would. You’re so easy.” He grabs Knuckles’s face between his hands and bends down so that his forehead can touch Knuckles’s. “We need to work on your subtlety.”

Knuckles can’t think to answer because suddenly he’s got Sonic’s hips between his hands and Sonic has Knuckles’s face between his hands and their faces are very close—

“Later,” Sonic decides, and finally closes the distance between them.

Knuckles’s fingers tighten and the jeans feel perfect.

[acesonuckles]

Legit I love your concept of Knuckles and sonic adopting tails it’s great 👌

oho thank u thank u, we love it too :D

[acesonuckles]

Spring Cleaning

[Every year, Sonic and Knuckles clean out the house. This year, Knuckles is pouting.]

Spring cleaning is the one thing that Knuckles understood immediately about surface life. He muttered some word in Echidnan, all, “Oh, so like...” followed by a string of syllables Sonic’s Mobian-trained tongue had no hope of replicating but he understood to mean when you clean because it’s warming up and you want to start anew or that burst of energy you get when you start to get more vitamin D and you might as well use it to clean. Of course, when he asked, it wasn’t nearly as poetic. Knuckles just shrugged and said, “it means the yearly clean.”

So, Knuckles understood it. He didn’t question Sonic when he pulled out the rubber gloves that crawled all the way up to his elbows, when he gutted the closets, when he threw out half of Tails’s old toys, when he dusted, and when he scrubbed the windows. In fact, he understood so well that he helped without question, using his strength to pick up the couch for Sonic to vacuum under, to move the fridge so they could get behind it and check the water line, to relocate huge piles of books and other assorted heavy things, to lift Sonic, one-handed, so he could clean the cobwebs from the corners.

These few short weeks became a whirlwind, but a good, productive whirlwind. One year, Eggman attacked in the middle of it, and when they got back, battered and shattered, Knuckles went right back to it. It was ritualistic to him, and it helped keep him grounded.

Today though, he’s taken to cleaning with something like a vengeance. He’s scrubbing the shower hard enough to put holes in it, standing there barefoot and free of gloves, with water up to his ankles for reasons Sonic can’t fathom, and he grunts when Sonic tries to talk to him from where he’s digging around under the sink, trying to decide if they really need an ironing board or six space heaters. Is that a hair dryer?

“Think Amy left this here,” Sonic says to the room, because that’s what he does. When things are awkward, he fills the space with something, anything. He holds the blow dryer up so Knuckles can see, and Knuckles scoffs.

“Ah, so it’s Amy,” Sonic continues, as he wraps the cord around the blow dryer’s handle and places it on the sink.

“What’s Amy?” Knuckles drags a rag across the shower tile—uselessly, in Sonic’s opinion, because the tiles are already blinding in their cleanliness.

“Your pouting.”

“My pouting what?”

Sonic grimaces and shakes his head. He tunnels back under the sink, shoves aside a few extra bottles of baby shampoo. “Keep being difficult. I know you’re mad about something. You’ve nearly increased the weathering on our shower by ten thousand years today alone.”

“I can’t hear you,” Knuckles returns.

Sonic groans, loud and long, painted, because of course he was gifted with someone who’s just as bullheaded as he is. He pulls himself out from the cabinet and sits back on his haunches so he can look at Knuckles fully. Knuckles has his back to him, though Sonic can practically see his glaring reflection in the tiles.

“What’s wrong?” Sonic asks, instead of instigating more of an argument.

“Nothing.”

“What’d Amy do?”

Knuckles sighs, and it’s a sigh that says that he knows he’s been had. “She’s nosey.”

“Ah.” Sonic stands and toes his shoes off, pulls his socks off, steps into the water. Gently, he reaches for the hand still going at the tiles and extracts the rag. “Yeah, she is.”

“Really nosey,” Knuckles continues, almost like a petulant child.

“What’d she do this time?” Sonic drops the rag into the water and kicks at the plug. The water begins to drain with a low rumble.

“Asking too many questions.”

Sonic makes another ah sound. This isn’t anything new. Amy has a vested interest in their relationship, seeing as she was the first person Sonic told about his crush, way back when, and she planned their wedding. She’s been the one constant in their lives, since this all began, but she’s also pushy sometimes, which rubs Knuckles all the wrong ways.

“She wants to know if we’re doing anything for our anniversary.”

Knuckles finally gives up the goat and it’s not nearly as bad as Sonic thought it was, which is both a relief and alarming, the fact that Knuckles is reacting so excessively. Sonic watches the water finish draining before he says anything.

“That’s reasonable—” Sonic begins. They have small plans that seem big—a trip to Angel Island, a fire, stargazing, an evening for themselves without Tails where they first met, doing what they love together.

“She implied that if I loved you, I’d do more.”

Knuckles doesn’t move, just says that, plain, open, and Sonic winces. The bathroom is wet from their cleaning, smells of lemon, and it’s suffocating with them standing so close in this too-clean shower.

“I know you love me,” Sonic says. Immediately, he knows it’s the wrong thing, because Knuckles’s hands and jaw clench.

“I know you know.”

Sonic looks at him, full on, takes in his tense expression, his tense posture, his tense everything. “She wants you to prove it,” Sonic says as he puts it together.

Knuckles nods once, curt, and Sonic hears him let out a small sound of dissatisfaction before Knuckles mumbles: “She knows how you feel, because you tell her everything.”

It’s true enough so Sonic doesn’t have to agree. Instead, he steps out of the tub, up and over the edge with a quick one-two movement. Knuckles watches him go with those large lavender eyes and Sonic can almost see something desperate there.

“You don’t have to prove anything to her,” Sonic says as he offers a hand. Knuckles stares at it, bites his lip softly. “It’s not hers.”

Knuckles lets out a soft, relieved breath. “It feels like it belongs to everyone.”

Sonic has a feeling they’re not talking about their anniversary anymore. “It doesn’t. It’s just you and me.”

Knuckles shakes his head. “Hope you’re right.” He ignores Sonic’s hand as he follows him out of the tub. The rag, now at the bottom of the empty tub, is plucked up by Knuckles’s gloveless fingers, and Sonic catches the slightest glimpse of his mark, along with the ring.

“I’m right,” he says.

[acesonuckles]

Hihi! In this Au are Sonic, Knuckles and co meant to be people? Or their respective animals? :) (The writing and art on this blog is really top notch! V pure! Thanks!)

Nah, they’re their regular Mobian selves! I just really liked that gijinka drawing I did of them, so it’s a placeholder header until I draw something more fitting lol. Thanks for asking and reading!

[acesonuckles]

Heaviness and Ice

[Sonic and Knuckles just fell from the sky and Rouge finds them as they recover.]

He’s been married to Sonic approximately five months when he sees Rouge for the first time, and it’s in a park, Sonic nursing a cup of coffee, Knuckles staring at the frosted leaves of the Station Square trees, trying to stay awake even though he’s exhausted. They’re both a little beaten up, singed, battered, and bruised, staring at the world because they’ve just fallen out of a space shuttle after sabotaging Eggman’s latest platoon. Sonic’s got on a military jacket, dark brown, buttoned up to his neck and he’s still shivering. Knuckles, for his part, is too jazzed to really be cold, but he presses close to Sonic, their shoulders brushing, as they blink heavily at the quiet morning.

They should be on their way home, but first everything has to slow down. The world is still spinning before Knuckles’s eyes and Sonic’s white-knuckled grip on his coffee tells that he’s much the same; everything is a bit tilted and shifted, like someone shoved everything an inch to the right and they can’t quite figure out why it’s wrong. There’s car-noise, but neither one of them can hear it over the cold clogging their ears. They’re probably shell-shocked, all things considered, but Knuckles doesn’t want to consider that. Right now, Sonic’s got his coffee and Knuckles has his own breath, pure crystal in the air, and that’s enough for the both of them.

“Fancy running into you here,” Rouge’s low voice comes, trying not to disturb the stillness that rests across Sonic and Knuckles’s shoulders. At least, that’s what Knuckles hopes she’s doing. Otherwise, he’s not in the mood for manipulation and mind games. She pads up beside them, dressed in a long, knitted cashmere sweater that brushes against her calves, scarf looped around her neck and face. Sonic blinks slowly, brain computing, and then he smiles slowly, slothlike, as he turns to see her.

“Rouge,” he mumbles into his coffee, “nice to see you. It’s been a while.”

She hums in response, a low mm sound that agrees more than any word ever can. “You two look shattered. Did you stop him?”

“Yeah,” they chorus, then sigh, practically wilting against each other. It’s the first time they’ve acknowledged it and it feels like a great weight has been hefted back on top of them. Two days in space, Sonic knocked out for six hours, Knuckles locked up for nine, Amy, Silver, and Blaze unable to get to them because GUN had grounded all air travel. It had taken every micron of nerve and grit for them to do it. They had to sabotage the main power source, rip the very Chaos Emeralds from the generator, and then Chaos Control nearly killed them. Super Sonic was their saving grace, catching both of them as they fell back down, through the atmosphere, half awake, half alive.

“Good,” Rouge says, then, “you look like you could use a warm bed. You want to come back to my place?”

“We have a place.” Knuckles nudges his shoulder against Sonic’s to get the hedgehog to back him up, but Sonic is still staring down at his coffee, the heat whisping out of the singular hole in the top and dancing around his face.

“I know, but it’s in Mystic Ruins. My apartment is right across the street.” She indicates a small, brown building, nondescript but with a great view of the park. It’s typical Rouge—pick somewhere unexpected but still with a nice comfort. “I have two bedrooms, if the newlyweds don’t want to share.”

Knuckles grimaces as Sonic tenses. Truly, they haven’t shared a bed yet, but that’s because Knuckles has commitment issues. He’s self-aware enough to know that but he’s not quite self-aware enough to address his problems yet. Sonic, for his part, has always been physical. He communicates with his body more than with his words, with wide-spreading gestures, thinly-veiled facial expressions, and nudges, shoves, and friendly hugs. Sonic will jump on cuddling with anyone and Knuckles knows that he wants to—he wants to show Knuckles that he cares the only way he really knows how, but Knuckles... He can’t. At least not yet.

“That’d be great,” Sonic says for the both of them, standing with creaking bones. He’s got goosebumps running all up his legs; Knuckles can see them under his fur, causing the blue follicles to stand at attention, and the jacket is too big. It pools around his hands, gloved fingers poking out just to hold the cup. “We don’t need to be alone in Mystic Ruins right now, I think.” This he directs to Knuckles and Knuckles only, his eyes filled with an emotion Knuckles can’t quite identify.

Rouge picks up on it. She nods slowly and offers her arm to Sonic. “Well, then, let’s get going. It’s colder than hell out here.”

[acesonuckles]

Is this blog dead? I love what's here so far and hope you continue!

Well, considering I have 32k+ words written for this AU, I’d so no, it’s not dead lol (for reference, a novel is about 50k... Yeah, I’ve gone a little overboard.) We haven’t been updating it a lot because we have other projects we’re working on, namely Sylvania School of Magic, but we will update this again! No worries!

-Ashe

[acesonuckles]

how does one person have so much talent? the writing and art on here is goregeous! i'm in love...

maybe bc it’s not all one person ;) surpriiiiiiise its Katie, Ashe, and Kiera, what up

thank u tho! we’re flattered <3

ashe edit: so far, all the art has been katie, and all the writing has been ashe!

[acesonuckles]

aaaaaa! ace, thank you so much!! this is so pretty!! <3

hey nyall i like the future knuckles design from hp au and i also like ace sonuckles so have this lil doodle My Good Dudes and Friends

(for yall wondering hp au isn’t shippy but Boy Ace Sonuckles Is, Like It’s In The Title ™ so just fyi)

[acesonuckles]

Chatter

[Amy and Sonic spend some time talking over drinks, which is never good for Sonic.]

“So, like, have you kissed yet?” Amy asks around the straw of her drink.

Sonic nearly spits tapioca balls across the table. “What?”

She cocks an eyebrow and leans one of her elbows on the table, head in her palm. “Kiss, you know? Snog? Seven minutes in heaven? Canoodling?”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it.”

Amy takes a long suck of her bright pink drink and Sonic watches tapioca go up the straw. “Well?” she asks as she chews, voice thick around the boba.

“Well what?” Sonic’s voice is sullen and he swirls his straw around, watching the tiny black balls bounce around in his green tea.

“Don’t play coy with me Sonic. I’m too invested in this whole thing. I planned your wedding. I helped you through your terrible crush.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“No.” She swallows and pushes her drink away. “Sonic, it’s been months.”

“I know.”

“You’ve been married—”

“I know!”

“Sonic, he practically moved into the house!”

“I know, Amy! I know!”

“Then why, pray tell, haven’t you kissed him?”

“Well, for one thing, he sleeps in a different bedroom,” Sonic mutters to the top of his drink.

“What? You’re joking! Have you even told him?”

“Told him what?”

“About your crush!”

“Wha— No! No! He can’t know! He’s barely dealing with the surface. Amy, he can’t read Mobian.”

There’s a long pause and Sonic watches Amy very carefully pull her bubble tea back to her face so she can take a drink. Sonic does the same just to keep the silence intact.

It’s after she’s taken two more sips that she finally has her thoughts in order. “What’re you gonna do about it?”

“I’m teaching him to read. It’s slow going but—”

“No, not that! You need to get him comfortable with you if you’re ever gonna move on in your relationship. Have you tried talking to him?”

“There’s nowhere to go, Amy. We’re friends. That’s it. I’m just happy he likes to spend time with me.”

“Sonic… That’s the most depressing thing I’ve ever heard.”

“What can I do? I’m not gonna pressure him. That’s a really shitty thing to do.”

“What do you have in common?”

“Other than arguing, the soul marks, and saving the world? Not much. Why?”

“You need a hobby. I suggest baking.”

“Baking?”

“Yes, baking.” She swirls her drink around, sending the tapioca into a cyclone. “It’s at home, you have to work together, and afterward you can sit on the couch and eat your snacks. It’s win-win-win.”

Sonic groans and lets his head thud into the table. “I can’t bake,” he moans at his knees. “I can barely cook!”

She shrugs, he can feel it, and kicks him lightly under the table. “You’ll learn. You gotta do something. You’re miserable.”

Sonic palms his drink and stares at the little flowers on the cup. “I’m not.”

“Look at me and say that.”

“No.” Petulant, even, he doesn’t look up from the bubble tea.

“Whatever. I’ll be over on Saturday to show you some simple stuff. Make sure Knuckles is there.”

“Yeah…” This comes out hollowly, but Sonic can’t help the way his heart jumps into his throat.

[acesonuckles]

Is this AU saying that the only way to be happy is to get married and have kids? Because that's so false I can't even begin to explain...

Nope! Sorry if it’s been coming off that way, that’s not our intention. Hopefully we can get some more contextual pieces out soon that flesh things out a little more. Just because we imagine that Sonic and Knuckles would be happy together and enjoy having a kid, doesn’t mean we think that’s the only way to be happy :) I’m not quite sure how you came to that assumption, none of us who run this blog even want kids lol, but we’ll try and make that point more clear in the future. 

[acesonuckles]

just in case anyone was confused: they gay

[acesonuckles]

concept: sonic and knuckles adopt lil babbu tails and they all live happily ever after as one big happy family

[acesonuckles]

Choreography

[Knuckles reflects on dancing.]

The most annoying thing about Sonic, in Knuckles’s I’ve-been-married-to-him-for-almost-a-year opinion, is, by far, his habit of dancing to any form of music in any location at any time. Whether it’s a hip waggle or a full-on kick routine, he’ll do it. He’ll even breakdance if there’s room. Swing dance? Yeah. Salsa? Yup. Slow dance? He’ll grab Knuckles by the hands, hips, lace his hands behind his head, and drag him around. Really, Knuckles has no business knowing all of these dance styles, but Sonic does them all, flings the names at him as he waltzes—one, two, three, one, two, three—or country two steps—quickquick, slow, slow, quickquick, slow, slow—his way around the room, and Knuckles can’t help but retain the information because it’s just so prevalent.

The worst part? Knuckles doesn’t really mind when Sonic starts swaying toward him, hands extended, searching for a partner, and that bothers him some. He’s never been coordinated enough for dancing—his feet like to stumble when doing anything more complicated than walking or running, and then there’s the fact that Sonic’s breathless counting in his ear distracts him more than his feet. But then, he’s never been an active listener to music, so when Sonic’s shoulders start bouncing to a song Knuckles’s brain missed, something playing over the grocery store speakers, he stops. And he listens. And he realizes just how quiet it gets when there’s no music playing.

The surface world has a lot backwards, but this is something that he appreciates. There’s no awkward silence if there’s music playing. Sonic taps his wedding ring on the table at restaurants when Knuckles can’t think of anything to say, and that brings noise when they can’t; people hum or sing along without realizing; fingers snap, hips sway, feet slide.

Today though, they’re at a dance—where, Knuckles can’t say because Sonic has this habit of whirling him around the planet like he does the dancefloor, no bearings for poor Knuckles who isn’t all that familiar with the geography yet, and the windows are dark, the sky sunset flamed—and the floor is alive with bodies like jell-o, rainbowed and elastic, skilled bodies whose feet move in sync, swirling and twirling, reeling and wheeling like gears in a brand-new watch. There’s no room for him and his jarring, robotic steps, his fire-alive eyes, always on the look for danger; Sonic would be better off with another partner, someone who wouldn’t be looking at his feet the whole time.

Today, Knuckles can’t, won’t, dance, no matter how his stomach jerks itself into charades, panicked movements of ill-formed emotions like fear, shame, excitement, want, need, when Sonic holds his hands out, tries to tow Knuckles out of the chair he’s currently growing roots around, looks back at the dancefloor like it’s a beach he wants to be consumed by, whole and complete. That’s the thing about Sonic—he throws himself into things, lets them devour his whole being, and Knuckles isn’t capable of that, which is usually a good thing. But, when Sonic is alive with the pulsing bass, body painted by the lights, tank top limp off one shoulder, baggy cargo pants hanging low on his hips, he’s a whole new form of himself.

“C’mon,” he says now, tugging, tugging, tugging to the beat of the music. “It’s slow.”

The music is slow, and people are coupling up, hands flinging around necks, resting on hips. They move with a laziness that looks effortless, feet sliding sleepily across the floor, and Knuckles thinks of a life where that could be him, him and Sonic, where he grew up on the surface, learned to dance like the other kids, at awful middle school dances where teachers stalked around. But, that’s not the case, and he can’t give Sonic what he wants.

“Hey.” Sonic drops down so he’s crouched in front of Knuckles, hands on Knuckles’s red knees. “Look at me. Just at me. Listen to me.”

Knuckles has to blink to get himself to stop watching the mesmerizing twirl of bodies, and when he does, he sees Sonic with his bright green eyes, reflecting the lights, reflecting Knuckles’s fear right back at him.

Sonic smiles at him when he sees he has Knuckles’s full attention. “It’s like fighting.”

“Huh?”

“Dancing—it’s like fighting. You’re really good at fighting with me.”

Knuckles knows what the emotion formally known as ‘dumbfounded’ feels like, knows it like it’s a tenant in his head, and he welcomes it back now. “No, it’s not...”

“It is. Arms swinging, fancy footwork, there’s rhythm, and you react to your partner. You just don’t hurt each other when you’re dancing.”

Knuckles stares at him, looks at the dancing people over Sonic’s shoulder, and feels something in his head click and shift. He can finally see the steps individually, the movement from ball to toe, one leg to the next, and it is a lot like dancing. He blinks once, hard, and looks back to Sonic, who’s smiling like he just saw Knuckles’s epiphany play out before his very eyes.

“Will you dance with me now?” Sonic stands and pulls on Knuckles’s large hands, not hard enough to tug him from the chair, but enough to make Knuckles’s arms extend.

Knowing and doing are two very different things, but, really, Knuckles is sick of overthinking this. He doesn’t usually live this deep in his own head, where his insecurities and fears come to roost, cooing at him like so many doves, and he wants to be rid of this. Sonic likes to dance, and so does Knuckles, so he needs to get over whatever is cementing him.

“Yeah... Yeah, I will.”

Sonic’s grin is all white teeth, stained gray by the lights, and he pulls again, heaves Knuckles right out of the chair and onto the dancefloor. Knuckles stumbles a few times, but then Sonic’s hands come over his shoulders, knot themselves along his shoulder blade, tug some on the long spines coming out of his ponytail, and Knuckles’s hands fall onto Sonic’s hips, fingers grasping slightly into the band of skin sticking out between his tank top and pants, and everything narrows to just them.

[acesonuckles]

Semantics

[Sonic just needs help picking out paint colors, and Knuckles doesn’t get it.]

“Have you considered maybe chilling out?” Sonic asked as he watched Knuckles stare at paint swatches for the living room. Knuckles ignored him and instead held two swatches up beside each other, facing the wall, tongue poking out of his mouth, as if he actually cared. Sonic knew that Knuckles was putting on a show to point out just how ridiculous he thought this all was—“It’s paint!” he declared not two hours ago when Sonic dropped the swatches on the table and told him to pick some—especially because Sonic was determined to make this house as good as it could be. But, Sonic was trying to not let it bother him. He’d explained multiple times that paint was important because they would be looking at it for a long time, but Knuckles maintained that he wouldn’t be, seeing as he would be spending all his time on the Island.

Now though, he was putting on this grand show of comparing paint. It was exhausting, watching Knuckles try to aggravate him, but he’d also noticed that Knuckles was leaning toward whites and tans—good neutral colors that Sonic could agree with—so at least, in his own passive aggressive way, they were getting somewhere.

“What does this say?” Knuckles asked instead of answering, shoving a swatch across the table into Sonic’s hands. The hedgehog squinted at it, for the drama of it, and looked at Knuckles with the same narrowed expression.

“Toque white,” Sonic answered when Knuckles started to get visibly agitated.

Knuckles couldn’t read Mobian—it was something Sonic had known for years, but hadn’t become abundantly obvious until now. While he could speak it well enough, though there were some words he didn’t know, some idioms he didn’t understand, he couldn’t read the symbols. He’d never had to, the echidna had explained once, late at night when his guard was down, because he’d never really spent any time down here and everything on the Island was written in the ancient script. He was much more fluent in that, though even then he didn’t know all the symbols. As a result, he often had to swallow his own pride and get Sonic to read things for him. Eventually, Sonic had plans to teach him, but he had to wrap his mind around that first—teaching someone how to read and all; he needed a game plan, and a willing Knuckles, which was highly unlikely anytime soon.

“What’s a toque?” Knuckles bit out when Sonic didn’t immediately read his pained expression as confusion.

“A hat.” Sonic held his hands up above his head, moved them to outline it. “Like a chef’s hat? You know those marshmallow looking things?”

Knuckles looked back at the color. “This is tan.”

“Yeah.”

“Aren’t chefs’ hats white?”

“Yeah.” Honestly Sonic was half surprised Knuckles got that reference, but then, he had been watching a lot of cooking shows lately.

Knuckles looked back at the color, stricken. “This is a lie.”

“It’s just a name.”

“Names are important,” Knuckles grumbled back, staring past Sonic and toward the wall.          

“This coming from a guy named Knuckles.” Sonic shot a look at his husband’s hands.

Said hands curled into fists. “Don’t.”

“Look, I’m just saying—”

Knuckles stood, sweeping some of the swatches to the ground as he went. “And I’m just saying, Sonic, that some things aren’t your business.”

He marched right out, all the way through the door and toward the Island, leaving Sonic with nothing but a bunch of color samples and no decision.

[acesonuckles]

mobius’s cutest couple, wow

[acesonuckles]

Or Something pt. 2

[Sonic and Knuckles, a newly matched soulmate pair, must learn to navigate their new relationship...]

It occurred to Knuckles months later as they poured over blueprints, Sonic’s gloved hand drawing hard lines on the page, that the hedgehog was manipulating him.

“—and the bedrooms will have large western windows,” he was saying, tracing large squares on the print, “so we can watch the sunsets.”

Knuckles, who was struck dumb by his epiphany, could only nod.

Sonic paused in his rambling to give Knuckles one of his patented I-can-see-through-you looks. He dropped the pencil and turned to the echidna fully, palm pressed into the table. “Okay, what’s up? You wanna take a break?”

Did he? Maybe. His head was spinning, trying to put the fragmented pieces of this realization puzzle together. Sonic was playing a very good game, leaning toward him like he was worried, letting Knuckles dictate everything, but Knuckles could see through him.

“What are you playing at?” he demanded, fist smashing onto the table.

Sonic jumped, yanking his hand back. “What?”

“You! You’re— Ugh!”

“Whoa, whoa! Use your words! What’s with you?!”

Knuckles made a frustrated sound, searching for words and failing. “You can’t control me,” he managed to bite out eventually.

Sonic’s mouth dropped open and he seemed to visibly struggle with that. “What? No one’s controlling you, Knux!”

“Of course not, but you’re trying!”

“Knuckles...” Sonic sighed, shoulders slumping. It occurred to the Guardian that Sonic hadn’t moved, even though he was predisposed to running and putting distance between himself and his problems—so I can get a better look from a better angle, the hedgehog so insisted. Knuckles didn’t know whether to be insulted that he didn’t elicit that kind of reaction or impressed that the hero managed to keep his cool. “I’m not trying to control you. That’s impossible.”

“You are!” Knuckles punctuated this with another fist to the table, causing pencils to bounce and rattle their way to the floor. Sonic looked unimpressed. “You constantly follow me around and you’re always paying really close attention to everything I say—like you don’t trust me or something! And this house! It’s idiotic! I live on the Island and you live... everywhere! So I’ll ask again: what are you playing at?!”

Sonic stared at Knuckles for a few beats before throwing his head back, loud laughter filling the room. Knuckles, already fired up, felt irritation drip into his belly, igniting flames.

“This isn’t funny.”

“I know. I know, but oh—Knuckles! You’ve got it all wrong. I want a place where we can consolidate, where we can come back to and feel at ease, a place where there will be someone else to eat dinner with, especially for y—” He broke off, aborting his small impassioned speech before it could reach its climax.

Knuckles, who wasn’t as stupid as most people thought he was, blinked and let out a very eloquent “huh” which made Sonic twitch just a bit because it was a very fervent huh, the type of huh that moved mountains or got you punched in the face if the echidna was feeling violent (which was almost always). But, the hedgehog remained where he was, as if he wasn’t scared of Knuckles.

What a strange, almost unfortunate predicament.

Sure, Sonic hadn’t ever been scared of Knuckles per se, but there was a healthy respect there that made him think before he spoke sometimes and flinch away when Knuckles made certain sounds or moves, because he knew that the echidna was dangerous. It went both ways really—Sonic could kick Knuckles’s head right off his shoulders if he tried hard enough—but Knuckles felt like there was a shift happening, a shift he wasn’t prepared for.

“Nothing, never mind,” Sonic muttered, stooping down to gather the pencils Knuckles had displaced, “I’m not trying to control you,” he added from under the table, probably so Knuckles couldn’t see the lie on his face.

“Sure,” Knuckles remarked, crossing his arms. The anger from before was gone, replaced with vague bafflement and a sense that he had screwed up somehow. “So you’re paying super close attention to me because...?”

Sonic sighed and reappeared—without the pencils, Knuckles noticed. “You know, not everyone in the world is out to get you. In fact, some of us... We actually want to make sure you keep breathing.”

Knuckles bristled. “So you’re stalking me because you think I can’t keep myself safe, is that it?”

“What? Hell no! And I’m not stalking you! I just... I—I don’t want you to be alone all the time, okay!”

Knuckles, who felt like someone had just punched him right in the gut, felt his jaw drop open, nearly all the way to the floor. Sonic, for his part, looked shocked, as if he hadn’t intended to say that out loud. Well, at least they were in the same boat, surprise wise.

“What?” Knuckles gasped, except he was pretty sure it wasn’t in Mobian. Sonic seemed to understand though, if his set jaw and next outburst were anything to go on.

“Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have said that, but I’m standing by it now that it’s out there. Listen, Knux,” he stared the echidna straight in the eye, “I want you to have somewhere that you can call home, okay? And, don’t even get started on the Island—” he cut across when Knuckles opened his mouth to argue. “That ain’t no home. That’s a job, man. And it’s a pretty sad, unforgiving one, if you ask me. You sit out in the elements all day, for what? To keep the Master Emerald safe? No one even knows it exists except for us and Eggman, and you always go after him with me anyway. It won’t kill you to have somewhere to live that’s not coated in a weird green glow.”

Knuckles, struck dumb, could only swallow and say, “you’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

“I know! This is new for me...” Sonic muttered, glancing off to the side. “But, this thing we’ve got is doing weird stuff to my head, man. I wanna nest or something. And I’m worried about you, like, I don’t want you up in the middle of the sky when I’m down here.”

“You know,” Knuckles could tell that Sonic was getting uncomfortable—this much emotional release was new for the both of them. He needed to lighten the mood, “before this, you basically lived on the Island.”

“Did not!”

“You did. You slept up there four nights out of the week.”

“You— That’s...” Large green eyes widened in horror. “You’re right... Oh Chaos, we were already married weren’t we?!” He was wailing now, overdramatic as always, so at least he was back to normal.

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Knuckles gritted his teeth against the thought.

“But, okay, so maybe I did live up there, but it was totally killing my back. I can’t be sleeping on the ground all the time. I already need to go to the chiropractor.”

“This coming from the guy who sleeps in trees.”

“Trees have better lumbar support than the ground, let me tell ya.”

“Bet a bed is better.”

“It is! Wait...” Sonic’s eyes narrowed, “are we still fighting? I’m never sure with you.”

“Are you gonna stop following me around like a lovesick puppy?” Knuckles quipped, only half-serious, and was shocked to see Sonic’s face fall. Ah, crap.

“Yeah...”  Sonic sighed and ran a hand up his forehead, the hedgehog equivalent of pushing his hair out of his eyes, “as long as you agree to actually live in this house.”

Knuckles paused at that. He wasn’t sure that was a promise he could make. Sure, Sonic was right about the Island—it was a thankless job, but it was home as well. Could he really give that up?

“You can have more than one home, you know.” Sonic whispered into Knuckles’s extended pause, making the echidna jump. Damn, did Sonic develop the ability to read minds? “And you can always spend all day on the Island. Just come back here to sleep and eat—that’s all I ask.”

That wasn’t much, really. A bed would be nice, especially if it was raining, and a hot meal would be even better, though he wasn’t sure Sonic knew how to cook much. (Neither did he, so they were kinda screwed on that front, but they would cross that bridge when they came to it.) He could probably do that. Besides, he could feel himself getting almost-attached to Sonic as well, especially with all the time they had been spending together.

“Yeah, fine. I’ll try,” he answered eventually, being vague enough so as to not get Sonic’s hopes up. The last thing he needed was Sonic’s disappointment months from now. Hedgehog could pout.

“Great!” Sonic grinned and held out a hand. “It’s a deal!”

As they shook, Knuckles couldn’t help but wonder why he was more than a little okay with Sonic’s meddling now.

.

.

Against their best wishes, Amy went and organized a wedding anyway. Knuckles wasn’t exactly sure how she got off the ground, seeing as she didn’t have any money to plan the thing, until he caught wind of some sort of crowd-funding operation in Green Hill Zone—everyone there had been sworn to secrecy, of course, but Knuckles knew they did it. They donated money so their treasured hero could marry the man of his dreams.

Except, Knuckles preferred to only appear in nightmares.

And Sonic? Well...

“I can’t believe this! We deliberately told her— No wedding! I’m not doing it! I’m not marching down the aisle like some virginal bride and we’re not kissing ever, let alone in front of people, and I. Am. Not. Dancing. With. You. to some sappy song. Also—I hate wedding cake. There, I said it.”

Knuckles, who had never had wedding cake and so couldn’t understand the sin of that statement, could only watch as Sonic marched a rut in front of the Master Emerald dais, wedding announcement making that indescribable warble of card stock as Sonic shook it in his agitation. “So, you’re not a virgin then?”

“Knuckles,” Sonic pressed with a tone and expression that begged for a little seriousness and sympathy. “She planned a wedding! Don’t you understand?!”

“What I don’t understand is how she managed to mail that announcement to the Island.”

Sonic groaned like he was being water boarded—low and scared and panicked and desperate. “We can’t get married!”

Knuckles shrugged, a gesture so depleted of worry that Sonic’s eyes nearly bugged out when he saw it. “I don’t see what your problem is. We’re already basically married in the eye of the law.”

“We are a matched pair, registered for social benefits, not married and devoted to each other.”

Knuckles shrugged again, if only to see Sonic get more agitated. At this rate, he was going to be able to grow something in Sonic’s pacing path with minimal effort. “I still don’t see what the big deal is. So we traipse up some aisle, stand in front of some people, and say a few things about honoring each other—what’s the problem?”

Sonic gave him a betrayed look that said I-thought-you-would-be-more-upset-about-this-than-me, which might have been the case a few months ago. As it was now, this whole situation was too funny for him to really worry about; Sonic was doing plenty of that for the both of them. “Knuckles,” Sonic began, deadly serious, “have you ever been to a wedding?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Then you can’t possibly imagine the terror that awaits! Knuckles—”

“Look, she already planned it all; we just have to show up.”

“You know, I never expected you to be the reasonable, let’s get married! type,” Sonic ground out.

“I’m just the type that likes to keep his head on his shoulders. Amy’s got a mean swing with that hammer.”

Sonic groaned with new terror as the reality of that statement hit him like a well-aimed wallop from said hammer. “Oh Chaos, we’re dead either way!”

“Which is why I picked the path of least resistance. Now, c’mon Sonic, we have to find something new, something old, and something borrowed.”

“I thought you didn’t know anything about weddings! And you forgot something blue!”

Knuckles couldn’t help it—he laughed. “Just because I’ve never been to one doesn’t mean I don’t know about them, Blue.”

Sonic opened his mouth to argue back, but then something seemed to occur to him and his jaw snapped shut. “I can’t believe this.”

“Now you know how I feel every time you open your mouth.”

.

.

I can’t believe this became Sonic’s mantra up until the very moment that the temple head declared them married and they stared at each other in terror.

Mobians didn’t have religion so much as a respect for science and nature—Chaos Energy being the physical manifestation of those ideas—but they did have Chaos temples where they gathered to commemorate weddings, births, and deaths. In the past, mobian weddings were simple things with little pomp and circumstance, but, recently there had been a push to make them more like human marriages—some sort of romantic spirit that was infecting mobian culture like a virus.

But, all of that aside, it meant one very bad thing. Knuckles wasn’t one hundred percent on all of the conventions, but he had sat through enough chick flicks with Amy to know what happened at the end of a wedding ceremony. The temple head didn’t make a sound about a kiss, which meant that Amy probably talked to her ahead of time, but they could feel the crowd’s expectations like plasma in the air, thick and clinging to everything.

Hell no, Sonic mouthed at him and Knuckles was inclined to agree. However, there was a building energy in this room that he was afraid would explode in their faces if they didn’t do something.

In a slight non-panic and with no better ideas, Knuckles punched Sonic in the shoulder hard enough to make the hedgehog rock backwards. Sonic’s mouth dropped open in shock as he caught his balance and the room seemed to suck in a simultaneous gasp of air, waiting for Sonic’s reaction.

The hedgehog rolled forward and punched him back, crashing his fist into Knuckles’s red arm with a laugh, the first pure chuckle Knuckles had heard him make since the beginning of this debacle. It was such a nice sound that even the temple head chuckled in response. Laughter rippled through the room slowly like waves on a calm day at the beach, rolling over and over until they reached the back. Sonic grinned at him, and Knuckles shook his head in response, fighting the fond smile that was tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Well,” the head began with a declarative voice, “I suppose that’s as good as we’re gonna get. Good luck in your marriage.”

“Good luck in your marriage!” the room chimed back, Amy’s voice being a particularly loud participant. Suddenly, Knuckles wasn’t so sure that this was so much a joke on her part as a genuine gesture. Misguided, but thoughtful, in her own way.

“Marriage...” Knuckles muttered, and couldn’t help but feel his tongue stick to the top of his mouth. Chaos, what the hell—

Sonic slung an arm around his shoulder, knocking into the blades of his back with a heavy movement. “Or something,” he muttered, just low enough that only Knuckles could hear. “C’mon, we’ve got cake to eat.”

Knuckles let the hedgehog pull him along, down the aisle, past well-wishers who were in on the joke, yelling out congratulations that ranged from dangerous to downright hilarious. Sonic pushed the doors open, letting sunlight filter in and causing Knuckles to squint, before tugging him again, causing him to stumble out.

“You don’t like wedding cake,” Knuckles managed as he wrestled his tongue into working order as they were crunching across the gravel.

His only answer was that chiming, infectious laugh.

[acesonuckles]

Or Something pt. 1

[Sonic and Knuckles discover something very interesting about their hands... Soulmate AU.]

When Knuckles was born, he had a set path in life. He was the Guardian, the sole descendent of his species, and he was alone. Being alone was good—it was all he knew. It was serenity and peace and duty and self-worth. He never intended on heading down to the surface, but then fate intervened and he was plunged into a world he barely knew.

And then, he met Sonic.

Sonic, on the other hand, was the definition of an uncontrollable variable. He spent most of his life zone hopping, seeing the world, making hundreds of friends but no real companions. In a way, he was alone too—alone in the middle of a crowd, on edge with a charismatic smile, never quite connecting with anyone. He would have continued on his path indefinitely if it weren’t for a sense of duty and an egg shaped megalomaniac.

And that was how he met Knuckles.

.

.

They had been best friends since they were ten and eleven years old. They fought a bit, spent a lot of their free time together—treasure hunting, sightseeing, exploring—and stopped Eggman at every turn. Eventually, they became known as a sort of team: speed and strength, red and blue, snark and deadpan. Their team grew with the addition of Amy and her hammer, Silver and Blaze with their respective –kinesis, the Chaotix and their... teamwork. Their lives fell into a sort of routine in a way: spar, tease, travel, let Amy bail them out when they got up to their necks in trouble, stop Eggman, repeat.

Their lives would have continued at this pace if not for that one fateful sparring session. They were on the Island, bouncing around the Master Emerald, when Knuckles accidentally grazed Sonic’s arm a touch too closely. His claw sliced down his arm, all the way to his hand, where he shredded his glove. Sonic cried out and fell back, hissing, as crimson bubbled in rivulets down his limb. Knuckles, for his part, was immediately abashed, but he didn’t show it and merely stomped after him and gruffly yanked his arm up to get a good look.

“It’s only a flesh wound, you big baby.”

“I’ve got to get to a hospital!” Sonic demanded, and Knuckles couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not. “Who knows what kind of diseases live on your hands!”

Okay, so he was going to be fine. Knuckles rolled his eyes and pulled his arm harder. “Wait, I think you might be right. Come with me. We need to burn the wound out.”

Sonic’s eyes widened comically and he tried to struggle, but Knuckles was stronger. It was a fact of life, one that even the fastest thing alive couldn’t run from. “No! C’mon man! This isn’t funny!”  He twisted, trying to slip out of his grip, and Knuckles only held on tighter, pulling Sonic’s arm up to give him less leverage.

The mark took him by surprise, even though he should have been expecting it. Soul mate marks were common on mobius, a holdover from a time when meaningful bonds meant survival and offspring, but almost everyone forgot they existed. The advent of gloves had allowed them to forget, had allowed people to live with the freedom to choose and experiment, but there was a story every now and then about a pair with matching marks. It was more common than Knuckles previously assumed living up on the Island, when the small emerald tattoo tucked into the crook of his thumb was an empty promise of companionship. His was a life of solitude; he never expected to find a match.

Especially in his bonehead friend.

“Hey, Knuckles! Mobius to Knuckles! You’re cutting off my circulation!” Knuckles blinked as Sonic’s voice brought him back and he immediately dropped the hedgehog’s arm like it was on fire. “Jeeze, what’s with you? You just up and froze out of nowhere! You take up palm reading or something?”

Knuckles shook his head hollowly, mechanically removing his own glove. He held it up, fingers spread, and saw Sonic’s brow furrow, body bent a bit to get a better look. His mouth dropped open, eyes swiveling to stare at Knuckles, baffled, confused, subdued, shocked all at once.

“Chaos,” he muttered, “we’re screwed.”

.

.

The first thing they did was fight, a full blown argument that turned into a knock down drag out. They hadn’t fought like this in years, and Knuckles wasn’t sure how it started, but suddenly he was flying through the air, an imprint of Sonic’s shoe in his stomach, lip freely bleeding, arms and legs cut up from a roll through the underbrush. Sonic didn’t look much better, more black than blue, seven shades beat right out of him. His arm was still bleeding, but he didn’t seem to care as he zipped around and kicked Knuckles around like a football.

In the end, they found themselves heaving for breath on the ground, bruised and battered. Sonic was a ball of red and blue, blood sticking his fur together, and Knuckles wasn’t much better, though his wounds were less obvious.

“The first thing we did as a couple is fight,” Sonic said into the stony silence, making Knuckles groan.

“Shut up. Shut up. Don’t. No.”

“You know,” Knuckles turned to look at the hedgehog because he didn’t recognize that tone of voice. The hedgehog was holding his hand up above his head, sun painting his face with broad streaks of gold, eyes trained on the little emerald etched into his palm, “this might not be so bad.”

Knuckles groaned again. “Yes it is. I can’t be with someone who fights like you. Who taught you to punch, a dragonfly?”

Sonic’s arm dropped and he rolled over to look at the echidna, loopy smile on his face. “At least I can kick. I bet you were always picked last for kickball.”

Knuckles shifted uncomfortably. “I never played kickball.”

Sonic blinked and then looked properly ashamed. “Oh, Chaos, I’m sorry Knux.”

“Don’t. It’s not like I regret it or anything. Without me, we’d all be dead.”

“Tell me how you really feel.”

“You’re useless, hedgehog.”

“Ouch, go on.”

“You’re brash and rude and too full of yourself.”

“But you love me.”

“But I l— Wait.” Knuckles choked off, pinning Sonic with a glare. “And you play these word games.”

“I’m a bit too quick-witted for you.”

“Your mouth is gonna get you killed one day,” Knuckles replied grimly. “And I’m gonna be the one who does it.”

“Only you, dear.” Sonic sighed and rolled over, arm draped over his head. “Oh, and by the way, I’m not living up here.”

                                                                                                                                                                                           .

.

Later, they huddled around a small fire, just off to the side of the Master Emerald dais. Sonic had his knees pulled into his chest, chin resting on the caps, expression blankly exhausted. The wind ghosted across Knuckles’ face, spirits stroking his cheek, helping him stay calm. The Master Emerald pulsed behind him, a warm, steady presence, and he took a deep breath.

“We don’t have to do this,” Sonic muttered into the silence, staring into the flames, hand tracing the pale lines on his palm. Knuckles had offered him one of his extra gloves, which garnered a wry smile, refusal, and a quip: ‘already sharing house and home?’ But Knuckles knew better; Sonic didn’t want to impose on him. The Guardian only had so many personal possessions and Sonic didn’t want to take something he couldn’t really afford to give.

Knuckles didn’t know how to read people, but he could read Sonic. It used to be that he thought it was because they spent so much time together, but now... Now he wasn’t so sure.

“We can just pretend we didn’t see,” Sonic continued when Knuckles didn’t say anything. “Just keep going how we’ve been going.”

Sonic was good at that—going and going and ignoring change. But Knuckles could sense something else just there, charging the air. Sonic gazed at him, eyes reflecting the flames, and Knuckles was struck with how lonely he looked.

“There’s an ancient story about two people from rival tribes,” Knuckles began, drawing a confused and wide expression from Sonic. “Most of it is lost to time, but there’s enough. They met one day in the forest and discovered their matching marks. They were filled with hope and joy, not only because they found their match, but also because this would hopefully break the feud. They went to their parents, but the elders of the tribes didn’t want to hear anything of matching marks. They forbid them from seeing each other.”

Sonic was riveted now. His face was properly disgusted at the idea of illegal happiness, as if he were personally being controlled. “Please tell me they didn’t listen.”

Knuckles sighed. “Of course they didn’t. And it got them killed.”

Sonic’s mouth dropped open. “Killed? Knux, this story sucks.”

“Would you— Listen, they ran away, and they lived for years on their own. They were incredibly happy. But then their tribes found them and they were executed for deserting and disobeying a direct order from the chief.”

Sonic snorted, an angry short sound. “Still sucks. If you were trying to let me down easy, you could’ve just said ‘nah, Sonic, we’ll just pretend this didn’t happen’ and then punched me. That would’ve been more enjoyable.”

“Sonic, let me finish. The pair kept journals and the tribes studied them, tried to figure out what made them want to hide from their families and friends, and they eventually realized where they screwed up. They got over their feud, and there was peace after that. Families formed based off marks and love, between the tribes and beyond.”

“So... They died, but they changed the world. No offense, but that story sounds like a terrible human movie.”

“It’s an ancient story passed down by my people,” Knuckles gritted out.

Sonic opened his mouth to reply, no doubt with snark, but then seemed to second guess himself. He paused, jaw slightly clenched. “That’s the first time you ever told me anything about your people.”

Knuckles grunted and shrugged. “If we’re gonna be sharing a life or some crap, might as well get started.”

Sonic stiffened. “You want to do this then? Like I said, we don’t have to.”

“I should be asking you. I’m stuck here with the Island. You’re the one who likes to run around.”

Sonic grimaced. “Yeah, but I can’t explain it... I’ve grown up with that mark on my finger, and I figured I would never act on it, but once I saw yours... I just... I don’t know. It felt right.”

“It was a commonly accepted theory that soul mate marks were a gift from Chaos,” Knuckles recited as if he were reading from a book. “My people said that Chaos designed each of us and paired us up accordingly.”

“And what about the people who don’t have marks?”

Knuckles rolled his eyes. Trust Sonic to find something to refute him. “Each person is complete on their own. Not everyone can be paired up. Single people are just as necessary as pairs.”

Sonic propped his head up on his knuckles, elbows sinking into his legs. “So, we’re designed for each other, huh?”

“Get those bedroom eyes off your face. You know that there’s no way in hell—”

“Chill, Knucklehead, you’re my best friend, but I’ll never date you, let alone let you anywhere near my mouth...”

Knuckles shuddered. “At least we agree on one thing.”

.

.

Amy, of course, was delighted. She was silent for a long pause after they told her, sitting in a booth in restaurant because they didn’t want to get the pulp beaten out of them, long enough for Sonic to start to fidget. (Which, Knuckles reflected, wasn’t very long at all. Sonic had a serious issue with sitting still, and it was starting to drive him up the wall.)

Then, she threw her head back and laughed, a loud, barking sound that drew every eye in the restaurant.

“Amy, please,” Sonic tried, hands rising, but she wasn’t having any of it.

“I can’t believe this! You two?! Oh my Chaos! This is the best day ever! Wait!” She broke off with a gasp, eyes lighting up. Her hands slammed down on the table, jostling the plates and glasses, making the hero of mobius practically jump into Knuckles’s lap. “You have to let me plan your wedding!”

.

.

Weddings and marriage were archaic traditions that were usually reserved only for the most romantic of pairs. Since soul mate marks didn’t always show up on quote-unquote ‘couples,’ and were actually more pre-disposed to more platonic pairs (evolution had learned that romantic-sexual pairings were unstable and trying to start a life with someone you lusted after wasn’t very effective, especially when the lust wore off and jealousy rose to take its place), such as siblings or best friends, soul marked people didn’t have to go through all the hoops of marriage. They just marched right up to a registry, showed their marks, declared their intentions to start a life together (most marked pairs always did; the fight wasn’t worth it), and that was that.

It was incredible, Knuckles thought to himself as he and Sonic loitered in front of the registry building, how two people could meet, latch on to one another, and find out years later that they were marked. It was pointless to resist really, especially since they had been getting along so well for three years now. It was almost a relief, to know that Sonic was his match. At least he could stand him, most of the time.

“So, I’ll be in charge of the finances,” Sonic remarked as they finally got up the courage to go through the doors.

“You’re funny,” Knuckles grated, trying to decide just how hard he would have to hit the hedgehog to knock some sense into him.

“And you don’t have any money, cloud hermit. At least I have a bank account.”

He had a point, but Sonic didn’t strike him as the most frugal. Then again, he didn’t own much either, when Knuckles thought about it. A few pairs of shoes, gloves, and socks, and that was about it.

“I want a house on the water,” Sonic continued, breaking Knuckles’ concentration.

“You can’t swim.”

“Yeah, but I can appreciate the ocean, you know. It’s pretty, in an oh-chaos-that-could-kill-me kinda way.”

“You are the most confusing person I’ve ever met.”

Sonic shrugged. “Not that hard, considering you only know like six people.”

Knuckles sighed but was far too tired to fight him. “Mystic Ruins.”

“Huh?”

“Mystic Ruins. Build a house there. There’s a place for the Island. Ocean.”

Sonic gave Knuckles a heavy look that the echidna couldn’t read. “You’ve got this all figured out.”

“Simple problem solving. It’s the best place for both of us.”

The look was here to stay. “So you’re not gonna spend all your time on the Island?”

“I will if you keep annoying me with pointless questions.” That came out a little rougher than Knuckles intended, but Sonic only smiled, a wide, face-splitting thing that made Knuckles blink.

“Got it.” He gave Knuckles a thumbs up and turned to the counter. “Let’s go rock these poor government types!”