Chapter Text
The phone dragged Sonic out of sleep. He burrowed deeper into the pillow, willing it to stop. It didn't. Whoever was calling had commitment. He groaned, rolled over, and grabbed the phone. The room was still dark—curtains blocking whatever pale morning existed outside. The screen's glow made him squint.
7:15 AM.
He answered. "What?"
"Morning!" Tails sounded insufferably awake. "You up?"
"No."
"Thought so." Smug. Definitely smug.
Sonic rubbed his eyes. "Do you know what time it is?"
"Seven-fifteen. Perfect for pre-skate warm-up. You've got that evaluation thing today, remember?"
Sonic paused. "...What evaluation thing?"
"The trial pairing? First day?"
"Right. That." He rubbed his face. "Totally remembered."
"You forgot."
"Did not."
"You absolutely did." Tails' laugh crackled through the speaker.
Sonic flopped back against the pillow, mattress creaking in protest. "Why are you even calling me this early?"
"Because you'd sleep through it otherwise."
Can't argue with that. "Yeah, fine. Thanks. Now go back to bed.”
“Don’t freeze to death.”
"Hilarious," Sonic muttered, hanging up.
What time was the meeting supposed to be?
Sonic stared at the ceiling. He'd been so focused on the ice time offer that he'd never actually asked. For half a second, he considered calling Rouge, then decided future Sonic could deal with that problem. Morning sessions were for juniors anyway—the trial had to be later. He set the phone down and tried going back to sleep.
His stomach had other ideas. After five minutes of his insides staging a protest, he gave up and rolled out of bed.
The shower started freezing, then slowly warmed to something tolerable. He stayed under longer than necessary, letting heat work through the stiffness in his muscles. When he finally emerged, he used the dryer, which puffed his fur into an unruly halo—he raked it down with his hands, pulled on his hoodie, and pocketed his phone.
The dorm hallways were empty. Everyone here apparently believed in sunrise training. Tragic. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and followed the overhead signs toward the cafeteria. It was, as expected, almost empty when he got there. A few chairs were stacked, trays lined neatly by the counter, and the faint smell of coffee hung in the air. Sonic winced. He hadn’t considered the timing—or rather the fact that walking in now meant interrupting cleanup.
A squirrel mobian behind the counter looked up from wiping down surfaces. "Sorry, breakfast ended fifteen minutes ago."
Sonic raised a hand. "My bad. Just got in yesterday, still figuring out the schedule." His stomach chose that moment to growl audibly. "Any chance there's something simple left? I'm not picky."
He tried a smile that probably looked more sheepish than charming. His stomach picked that exact moment to grumble loudly like the traitor it was.
She sighed, but her mouth twitched. "Sit. I'll see what I can find."
"You're a lifesaver."
She disappeared into the kitchen. Sonic dropped into a chair by the window, pulling out his phone to look busy while he waited. Five minutes later, she returned with a loaded tray—eggs, bacon, toast, and coffee.
"Whoa." Sonic's eyebrows rose. "That's way better than I was expecting."
"Staff meal," she said, setting it down. "Keep it between us."
"Deal. Thanks—?"
"Alicia."
"Thanks, Alicia."
She waved him off, already heading back to cleanup. Sonic ate quickly. The food was hot, filling, and exactly what he needed. When he finished, he returned the tray with a quick thanks to whoever was working the counter and headed out.
One problem solved. Several more waiting.
The hallway beyond the cafeteria was quiet. Sonic stopped halfway down, hands in his pockets, trying to decide what to do with his morning. He thumbed open his phone and sent Rouge a quick text:
Sonic: hey, you busy?
The message stayed on “sent.” That told him enough. He looked out the nearest window. The air outside shimmered pale gold against the steel and glass of the main complex. It looked like a perfect day for a run.
He found an exit and stepped outside. The Ark's grounds surprised him—broader than he'd expected, gardens winding between paths of pale stone. The design had an old-world elegance that clashed with the facility's modern steel. Frost dusted the lawns, and his breath misted in the cold air. He started jogging, letting his body warm up, following a path that curved toward— An outdoor rink.
He slowed. The ice spread under an open canopy, surface impossibly smooth. They had to be running cooling tech to keep it frozen like that. Beyond it, a half-frozen lake caught morning light. He jogged again, following the path as it wound toward the lake’s edge. Ahead, a flicker of movement caught his eye. He slowed, squinting toward the bend in the path. On a bench near the water's edge, barely visible from the path, was a small shape. Hunched. Shaking.
Sonic's steps slowed.
It was a kid. Rabbit, maybe seven or eight, ears drooping nearly to the ground. Her thin coat wasn't nearly enough for the cold. She was crying.
Sonic approached carefully. "Hey. You okay out here?"
The shoulders shook harder. He crouched low, keeping distance. "It's pretty cold. Should probably head inside before you turn into an icicle."
She shook her head hard, ears flopping. "I'm not going back." Her voice was tiny but fierce.
"Okay." He sat on the cold ground beside her. "Mind if I sit?"
Small shrug.
"What's keeping you out here?" he asked gently.
Her face crumpled. "I can't do anything right. My jumps keep coming out wrong, and the other kids—" Her voice cracked. "They're right. I'm just... bad at this."
Sonic's chest tightened. "Sounds rough. But hey—welcome to skating. Everyone hits that wall."
Probably not what she wanted to hear. She gave him a sharp look through her tears.
"Right now it's your turn to struggle," he said. "Next week it'll be somebody else. You've probably seen it happen. It just feels worse when it's you."
"It doesn't happen to you," she muttered.
The certainty in her voice caught him off guard. He laughed, half flattered, half surprised she apparently knew who he was.
"You'd be surprised." He leaned forward. "I'm an ice dancer. My whole job is making every step look deliberate, even when it isn't. You miss a beat, you slide into the next one. You slip, you turn it into style."
She blinked, confused.
"Eventually your body figures it out," he added. "You just gotta keep your rhythm. Don't stop because something goes off."
She didn't look entirely convinced, but she'd stopped crying.
He stood, brushing off his pants. "Come on. Let's get you inside before you freeze. We'll warm up, and then I'll walk you back to practice. Deal?"
She hesitated, then took his offered hand.
The walk back was mostly quiet but not uncomfortably so. The little bunny, still gripping Sonic’s hand, kept her head low, ears swaying against her shoulders. Her steps were tiny, hesitant, boots crunching faint frost in slow rhythm. Sonic shortened his stride to match hers, glancing down now and then to make sure she was keeping up.
They'd rounded the corner when Maria appeared, clipboard in hand. "Sonic?" She blinked, then noticed his companion. "Oh—Cream? Shouldn't you be at junior session?"
The little hand tightened in Sonic's. He jumped in quickly. "Actually, she was helping me find my way around. Got a bit lost."
Maria's eyebrows rose slightly, then understanding crossed her face. "Ah. Well, that's very kind of you, Cream." She smiled warmly. "How about we walk together? I’ll make sure no one gives you a hard time for helping our guest.”
The girl looked uncertain but nodded, clutching Sonic’s hand a little tighter before letting it slide free. Maria adjusted her pace to match hers as they started toward the rink complex. Sonic walked on the other side, keeping quiet while Maria filled the silence with soft small talk to ease the mood.
Inside the rink dome, the junior instructor—a tall fox with a sharp ponytail—spotted them immediately. "Cream? Where have you—"
Maria stepped in smoothly. "My fault. I borrowed her to help our guest."
The instructor hesitated, then nodded. "Alright. Warm up quickly, Cream. We're rotating into combination drills."
"Yes, ma'am," Cream said quietly.
As they turned to leave, she looked back at Sonic. "Um... thank you." He crouched to her level. "Anytime. Just promise you'll hold on, yeah?"
Her smile brightened. "I'm Cream."
"Sonic." He offered his hand for a mock-serious handshake.
"I know." She giggled.
He winked. "Guess that makes it official then."
They'd barely cleared the rink doors before Maria turned to him. "What happened?"
"Found her outside crying," Sonic said. "Said she couldn't go back in. Sounds like some of the other kids have been giving her a hard time."
Maria's expression tightened. "That explains a lot." Her fingers tapped the clipboard. "I'll talk to her instructor. Make sure they're watching for it."
"She's tough," Sonic said. "Just needed a minute."
Maria's smile was grateful. "It was good of you to help."
"Yeah, well." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Someone's gotta."
“So, ” he said, “What time is that test practice supposed to be?”
Maria blinked, caught off guard. “Oh, the—oh no.” She winced, clutching her clipboard to her chest. “I completely forgot to tell you, didn’t I? I’m so sorry, Sonic.”
He grinned. “Don’t worry about it.”
“It’s at eleven,” she said quickly. “Rink Three, lower level—just past the choreography wing. There’s a side staircase that leads straight down from the north corridor.”
“Rink Three,” he repeated, nodding. “Got it.”
She studied him. "You sure you can find it?"
"I'll manage."
Her eyes searched his a moment, reading something there. "Alright. Eleven o'clock, Rink Three. Don't keep Grandfather waiting."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
Maria's smile lingered. "And Sonic? It was good of you to help Cream."
He shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah. Anyway, I should probably go figure out where Rink Three is."
He headed off before she could offer to show him again.
Sonic found the north corridor on his second try. The lower-level staircase gleamed ahead, all steel and frosted glass, and his stomach did something complicated.
Partnerships were built, not found. He knew that. Coaches had their checklists—height, technical ability, and whether you could stand each other for more than five minutes. He and Shadow ticked some of those boxes. Maybe.
His sneakers squeaked on the stairs.
The real question was style. Sonic skated like he was chasing something, letting the music pull him where it wanted. Shadow looked like he'd mapped out every stroke before his blade touched down. Could that even work? Sometimes opposites balanced each other out. Sometimes they just crashed.
The corridor opened ahead. He could hear blades on ice—that familiar whisper that made his pulse quicken. He wanted this to work. Needed it to, maybe. Not that he'd ever say that out loud.
Three... two... one... He pushed through the doors.
Shadow was already on the ice. Of course, he was.
The dark hedgehog carved through crossovers like he was proving a point, each push identical, edges biting deep, not an ounce of wasted energy. Professor Robotnik and Maria stood at the boards. Professor Robotnik's arms were crossed, expression carved from granite. Maria had her clipboard, pen already moving. Behind them, a camera was set up on a tripod—recording, apparently. They wouldn't just be evaluating. They were documenting. Sonic's stomach did something complicated.
Three sets of eyes turned toward him.
He'd shown up fifteen minutes early. Fifteen minutes. Back when he was at the Babylonia Rink, that would've made him the first one there. Here? Shadow looked like he'd been drilling since sunrise. Professor Robotnik stood like he'd been waiting since yesterday.
"Right on time," Sonic said, forcing brightness into his voice.
Professor Robotnik's expression didn't change. "Mr Hedgehog." He inclined his head with the barest hint of acknowledgement. "I trust you've settled in well."
Not I hope or have you? Just—certainty. Like Sonic's adjustment to the Ark was a foregone conclusion, already calculated and approved.
Sonic's smile pulled a little tighter. The guy said it like this whole thing was already decided. Like he'd run the numbers, checked the variables, and determined that Sonic and Shadow were going to work out whether they liked it or not. Pretty bold assumption for someone who hadn't seen them skate together yet.
"Yeah, place is great," Sonic said. "Very... big…." He trailed off, unsure of what else to say.
Maria's mouth twitched. Professor Robotnik didn't react at all.
"Shadow is completing his warm-up," Professor Robotnik continued. "You have twenty minutes to prepare. We begin immediately."
Twenty minutes. Right. Shadow glided past in Sonic's peripheral vision—silent, focused, completely ignoring the conversation ten feet away.
"You remember where the locker room is, right?" Maria’s voice was warmer, at least. "Take your time."
Sonic nodded and headed for the door, hyper-aware of the eyes tracking him. He couldn't tell whose gaze felt heavier—Professor Robotnik's clinical assessment or the one he wasn't getting from Shadow.
When Sonic stepped back onto the ice, Shadow was running footwork sequences on the far end. Maria and Professor Robotnik had their heads together, voices low, clipboards out. Sonic pushed off, and the world clicked into place. The ice hummed under his blades—solid, responsive, perfect. He started easy, long strokes to feel it out, testing the surface.
Shadow was still on the other side, flowing through what looked like a step sequence. Sonic kept his distance, carving wide arcs. No point crowding the guy before they'd even said hello. But he noticed him. He couldn't help it. Every time Shadow crossed his line of sight, Sonic's attention snagged. The way his edges bit almost too deeply. The rigid set of his shoulders. How he never once glanced in Sonic's direction, even when they passed close enough to feel the draft.
Sonic spiralled low, leg extended behind him, and caught Maria watching. Her pen scratched across the page. Professor Robotnik stood motionless beside her, face giving away nothing. They were already taking notes. On what, Sonic had no idea, but the weight of observation pressed between his shoulder blades. He straightened and picked up speed, flowing into turns—three-turn, mohawk, bracket. Let his body remember what it knew. Ice dance was about rhythm, about making every movement look like it belonged to some invisible song.
Shadow passed him again. Close enough that Sonic felt the air move.
Still didn't look.
Fine. Two could play that game.
He was mid-spiral when Professor Robotnik's voice cut across the ice.
"Gentlemen."
Professor Robotnik's voice cut clean across the rink. Sonic slowed, gliding toward the boards. Shadow approached from the opposite side, converging like they'd planned it.
"Basic parallel elements," Professor Robotnik said. "Stroking sequences, synchronised turns. Matching tempo and edge quality."
Sonic nodded. Simple enough. Foundation stuff. Shadow said nothing, but his jaw did something—a tiny shift.
"Forward crossovers," Professor Robotnik continued. "Full length. Alternating leads. On my mark."
Maria stood by the sound system. No music yet, just them, the ice and whatever this was about to become.
"Go."
Sonic pushed off. Shadow did too.
The first few strokes were fine—both finding rhythm, blades crossing, building momentum. But within seconds, Sonic felt it. Shadow wasn't matching him. He was skating like he had been in warm-up—deep edges, powerful drives, speed climbing like he was trying to outpace his own shadow.
Sonic adjusted, lengthening his stride. Shadow pulled ahead slightly.
Okay then.
Sonic pushed harder.
By the time they hit the far end and turned, they were neck and neck, but it didn't feel synchronised. It felt like a race neither of them had agreed to. They came back down the length, and Sonic tried reading Shadow's rhythm. The guy skated like hesitation was a crime—every stroke committed, every edge demanding. It wasn't wrong. Just... intense.
Sonic's grin surfaced despite everything. Alright. Let's see what you've got.
He matched the next push with more power, digging in, letting his edges bite as deep as Shadow's. Shadow's head turned just a fraction, just enough for their eyes to catch for half a second. Then Shadow pushed harder.
Oh, it's like that?
The stroking sequence stopped being a test. Sonic leaned into it, chasing Shadow's tempo, matching his aggression stroke for stroke. His lungs burned in the good way. His legs sang. This wasn't about impressing Professor Robotnik anymore; this was about not backing down.
Shadow's edges sharpened. Sonic mirrored them. Shadow transitioned into a three-turn without warning. Sonic followed, clean and tight, barely a breath behind.
The ice blurred. Sound narrowed to the rhythmic shhhk-shhhk of their blades cutting in sync. Sonic caught something in Shadow's expression— a flicker, there and gone. His face stayed locked in that same focused intensity, but something shifted around his eyes. Concentration? Irritation?
Was he enjoying this, or trying to shake Sonic off? Impossible to tell. But Sonic was having the time of his life.
They rounded into spirals—Sonic extending his leg, Shadow matching the position. For a moment, they were identical, two bodies carving the same arc.
Then Professor Robotnik's voice shattered the moment. "Adequate. Return to centre."
Sonic slowed, chest heaving, grin still plastered on his face. Shadow decelerated with that same controlled ease, and his expression smoothed out so fast it was like someone had wiped a slate clean. Had that been fun for him? Hell if Sonic knew.
He glanced at the boards. Maria looked pleased, pen flying. Professor Robotnik watched with that same unreadable intensity. Then the Professor spoke again, and Sonic's stomach dropped.
"Physical compatibility. Waltz hold. Starlight Waltz, standard tempo."
Oh. Right. The part where they actually had to touch.
Maria stepped forward. "Shadow's been working on the basics with me. He knows the pattern."
"Great," Sonic said, his voice coming out thinner than he meant. He turned to Shadow.
The guy had gone still. Not relaxed-still. Statue-still. Shoulders locked, eyes fixed somewhere past Sonic's left ear like he was trying to stare a hole through the far wall.
This is gonna be rough.
Sonic skated closer. "Ready?"
Shadow didn't answer.
"We'll just start with the hold," Sonic tried, keeping his tone light. "Get the positioning down."
"I know the hold." Shadow's voice was clipped, sharp-edged.
"Cool, so let's—"
Sonic moved into range, and Shadow's eye twitched. Just a flicker—pupils contracting, a fraction-second flinch—but Sonic saw it. Shadow's shoulders went even more rigid, and his hands curled into fists.
Oh boy.
"Hey," Sonic said, softer now. "It's just basic contact stuff. No big deal."
Shadow's jaw clenched hard enough that Sonic heard teeth grind. Then, with visible effort, Shadow lifted his left hand, which Sonic took. The grip was tight like Shadow was trying to anchor himself against a hurricane.
"Easy," Sonic said. "You're gonna crush my hand."
Shadow didn't loosen up. If anything, his grip tightened.
Sonic shifted closer, lifting his left hand to Shadow's shoulder. "Other hand goes here—" He gestured to his own waist.
Shadow's right hand rose. Hesitated in midair. Then landed just above Sonic's hip, barely touching. Like he thought Sonic might burn him.
"Little lower," Sonic said. "Needs to be stable for—"
The hand slid down a fraction, then immediately jerked back up toward his ribs.
"Dude, you're throwing off my balance if you—"
"I know." Shadow bit the words out, gaze cutting away.
The hand moved again. Down. Too far this time, almost at his hip bone. Then back up. Still wrong. Sonic tried adjusting his weight, but Shadow kept shifting the contact point, and it made finding the centre impossible. His hand on Sonic's waist kept moving—up, down, searching for some position that apparently didn't exist.
Frustration bubbled up. "Shadow—"
"I know," Shadow snapped, sharper now.
The hand finally settled somewhere vaguely correct, but the touch was so light it barely registered. Meanwhile, his left hand was still crushing Sonic's fingers.
Sonic exhaled slowly through his nose. "Okay. We're gonna try moving. Just... follow the pattern. I'll work with you."
Shadow's jaw locked. His eyes stayed fixed over Sonic's shoulder.
Great. Just great.
Maria cued the music, and waltz notes drifted across the rink—soft, gentle, completely wrong for what was about to happen.
Shadow moved. Except it wasn't moving. It was Shadow executing steps while simultaneously trying to keep Sonic at arm's length. Not leading. Not partnering. Just—going through motions while treating Sonic like an obstacle course. Sonic tried to follow, but Shadow's whole frame was locked up tight. Every step felt like fighting against a brick wall. Shadow pulling when he should guide, pushing when he should lead, that hand on Sonic's waist barely making contact.
"You need to—" Sonic started.
Shadow yanked him into the next position.
Sonic's blades skidded. He adjusted fast to keep from stumbling, annoyance flaring hot. "Okay, not like—"
Shadow pulled again. Harder.
Sonic's teeth clenched. He tried matching the rhythm, trying to find some common ground between Shadow's rigid execution and the actual music, but it was like dancing with a machine that had forgotten how bodies worked.
The pattern fell apart. Shadow's hand slipped on Sonic's waist, his other grip tightening to compensate. They were off-beat now, movements jerky and disconnected. This wasn't a waltz. This was a barely controlled disaster.
"Shadow, slow down—"
Shadow tried turning them, misjudged the spacing, and pulled.
Hard.
Sonic's blades lost purchase. Momentum threw him forward, straight into Shadow's chest. He hit solid warmth and stopped. Shadow managed to catch him without even stumbling.
For a split second, everything narrowed. Sonic's nose was practically buried in Shadow's collar, close enough to catch the scent cutting through the cold rink air—lavender, sharp and oddly grounding. Shadow's chest rose and fell against his, each breath uneven. Heat radiated through the thin fabric of Shadow's costume, seeping into Sonic's fur everywhere they touched. Chest to chest. Too close.
Shadow's heart was racing. Sonic could feel it hammering against his own ribs—fast, unsteady, nothing like the control Shadow wore everywhere else. Sonic's pulse kicked up in response. Heat crawled under his fur, sudden and unwelcome. His own breathing had gone shallow. They were just—standing here. Pressed together. He should move, should say something, should—
Shadow suddenly shoved him, and Sonic's blades skidded, scrambling for an edge that wasn't there. His arms windmilled uselessly.
Then he hit the ice.
The impact punched through his hip, cold shock radiating outward. He'd managed to twist and land on his side instead of flat, but the impact still rattled through his bones. The cold bit through his shorts immediately, unforgiving.
"Sonic!"
Maria's voice sounded muffled through the ringing in his ears. He lifted one hand, waving her off without looking up yet. Irritation flared hot in his chest at himself, at Shadow, at the whole stupid situation. His face felt warm despite the ice beneath him. That collision kept replaying—the closeness, the heat, Shadow's heartbeat against his—
What the hell was that?
He looked up.
Shadow stood frozen two feet away, one hand still half-extended like he'd started to reach and caught himself. His eyes were wide—actually wide, not that usual controlled blank. He looked... shocked. Like he'd surprised himself as much as he'd surprised Sonic.
"That's enough."
Professor Robotnik's voice cut across the ice—clinical, detached, like he was commenting on the weather. He'd then turned away, moving toward the exit, gesturing Maria to follow.
Sonic pushed himself up to sitting. Ice bit into his palms, his hip throbbed, but mostly his pride hurt.
Really concerned there, Professor. Don't strain yourself asking if I broke anything.
Maria threw a glance back over her shoulder—quick, apologetic. Her eyes flicked to Shadow, then Sonic, and her mouth formed what might've been sorry before Professor Robotnik called her name again. Then they were gone, leaving Sonic sitting on the ice and Shadow standing there like he'd forgotten how arms worked.
"You could at least help me up," Sonic said. Half-serious. Half-testing to see if Shadow would actually respond or just keep standing like a mannequin.
Shadow remained still for another beat. Then he moved—closed the distance, leaned down, and offered his hand.
Sonic took it.
The pull-up was effortless as Shadow hauled him to his feet like he weighed nothing. For a second, their momentum carried them close again—not as close as before, but close enough that Sonic's free hand landed on Shadow's shoulder to steady himself. Shadow released his grip immediately and stepped back, putting a careful measure of distance between them.
But the hold had been gentle. Careful, even.
He brushed ice off his shorts, buying himself time to think. "So. Think they're coming back?"
Shadow's gaze flicked toward the door Professor Robotnik and Maria had disappeared through. "The Professor is debriefing Maria. Discussing strategy."
Professor. Not Grandfather, like Maria called him.
"Right. Strategy." Sonic's laugh came out hollow. "Pretty sure that strategy is 'put the blue hedgehog on the next flight home.'"
Shadow said nothing.
Sonic tested his hip. "For the record, I don't think you meant to launch me."
Something flickered across Shadow's face. Too fast to read. "I didn't."
"Yeah, I figured." Sonic tried for a grin. "You would've thrown me further if you actually wanted to."
Shadow's mouth did something—started to quirk, maybe, then thought better of it. Gone before Sonic could be sure he'd seen it at all.
Silence settled between them again. Sonic shifted his weight, ears flicking once. A question had been nagging at him since this whole thing started, and apparently, eating ice made him reckless enough, actually, to ask it.
"Can I ask you something?"
Shadow's eyes narrowed. "That depends."
"Why are you doing this?" Sonic kept his tone light..
Shadow's gaze snapped to him, suddenly sharp. "Cross-training. You were briefed."
"Yeah, I got the official line," Sonic said. "But cross-training is usually for skaters trying to improve presentation or coming back from injury. You don't fit either category. So... why now?"
Something flashed across Shadow's face. Fast and fierce and way too much emotion for someone who'd been locked down ten seconds ago. His shoulders went rigid, jaw setting hard enough that Sonic heard the click of teeth.
"That's not your business," Shadow bit out.
Sonic blinked. "Whoa, I wasn't—"
"It's not," Shadow repeated, sharper now. Almost angry.
The reaction caught Sonic completely off guard. He'd just been making conversation—curious, not interrogating. But Shadow looked like Sonic had just stuck his hand in an open wound and twisted. Which meant there was definitely something there. Something raw.
Part of him wanted to push—figure out what he'd hit, why it mattered that much. The same part that never knew when to leave well enough alone. But Shadow's whole posture screamed back off, and Sonic recognised that defence. He'd worn it himself enough times when people got too close to things he didn't want to talk about.
"Alright," Sonic said, raising his hands in surrender. "Didn't mean to pry."
Shadow didn't answer. Just stood there, tension radiating off him in waves. Sonic let the silence breathe for a moment. Then, because he'd never been good at leaving awkwardly quiet alone, he tried again.
"So..." He knew the answer before he asked, but maybe starting with something obvious would ease the tension. "You've been training here a while, right? Being the Professor's grandson and all."
Nothing.
"Maria seems great," he tried instead.
Still nothing.
"I met this kid this morning—Cream, real sweet, having a rough time with—"
"Why are you talking?" Shadow's gaze snapped back to him.
Sonic grinned despite himself. "There we go. Thought you'd gone full statue on me."
"I don't understand the purpose of this."
"This?" Sonic gestured vaguely between them. "It's called small talk. People do it."
"It's unnecessary."
"Maybe," Sonic said. "But we're stuck together for a while, and I'm really bad at the whole 'standing in awkward silence' thing. So unless you want me to start narrating my thoughts out loud..."
Shadow's jaw worked. "We don't need to—"
"Get to know each other?" Sonic finished. "Actually, yeah, we kind of do. Doesn't have to be deep or anything. But it helps to at least know you won't murder me in my sleep. Partnership stuff."
Shadow's eyes stayed fixed on the ice between them. "Do we?"
The question landed weirdly. Not hostile, exactly, but pointed. Testing something. Sonic's ears flicked back. Was that about Jet? His chest tightened reflexively.
He and Jet’s tumultuous relationship had been something like an open secret in the figure skating world, but they had made it work, hadn't they? Medals didn't lie. They'd stood on podiums together, competed at Worlds, pulled off programs that other teams couldn't touch, even when they'd stopped being able to stand each other off the ice.
But was Shadow throwing that at him? Pointing out that Sonic's track record proved you didn't need to get along? Or was this a genuine question—Shadow actually wondering if personal connection mattered? Sonic couldn't tell. Shadow's face gave away nothing—just that careful neutrality, like he was waiting for an answer to a question Sonic wasn't sure he fully understood.
"Technically?" Sonic said slowly, picking his words. "No. You can get results without getting along. Jet and I proved that."
Shadow's gaze lifted slightly.
"But it wasn't always like that," Sonic admitted. "We used to... it was good at first. Then it wasn't. By the end, every practice was a fight, every performance was about proving something instead of just skating." He paused. "It worked on the ice. Off the ice, it sucked."
He didn't elaborate. Shadow didn't need his whole history—just enough to understand why Sonic was trying here. He didn't respond, but something in his posture shifted—shoulders dropping just slightly, like he was turning the answer over in his mind, weighing it. Before Sonic could figure out what that meant, the side door opened.
Maria emerged, clipboard tucked under her arm. Her expression was carefully controlled as she approached the boards.
Here it came. The polite dismissal. Thanks for trying, safe travels, we'll be in touch (they wouldn't).
"Well," Maria said, and even her voice sounded like she was trying to convince herself, "He believes you have potential."
Sonic's brows shot up. "He …. what?"
"There are areas that need refinement— massive understatement —but he sees a foundation worth developing. Your technical abilities are both exceptional, and physically, you're well-matched."
"We just failed a basic waltz," Sonic said flatly. "I ended up on the ice."
"Growing pains." Maria's smile didn't waver. "Expected in any new partnership."
Shadow made a sound—somewhere between a scoff and an exhale.
Maria continued like she hadn't heard. "Grandfather has proposed a trial period. Three days. In that time, you'll develop and perform a simple program together. If you demonstrate sufficient progress, we'll move forward with a formal partnership arrangement."
The words hung in the air.
"Three days," Shadow repeated. His voice had gone completely flat.
Sonic's laugh came out strangled. "To go from that—" he gestured at the ice he gestured at the ice where he'd just been lying "—to an actual program?"
"A simple program," Maria clarified, like that helped. "Two minutes, maximum. Basic elements. Nothing too ambitious. Just enough to demonstrate your potential as a pair."
"Three days," Sonic said again, because apparently his brain had bluescreened.
Maria's expression softened slightly—something almost sympathetic creeping in around the edges. "I know it's an aggressive timeline. But you're both incredibly talented skaters. Grandfather wouldn't propose this if he didn't believe you were capable of meeting the challenge." She looked between them. "And I believe it too."
Shadow tried one more time. "Maria, that's not a realistic timeframe. Three days to—"
Maria's expression shifted—something softer slipping through the professional veneer. She stepped closer to Shadow, voice dropping just slightly. Not quite a whisper, but low and personal.
"Shadow," she said quietly. "I wouldn't ask if I didn't believe you could do this."
Sonic looked away, suddenly feeling like he was intruding on something private. Shadow's jaw worked. His shoulders were still rigid, but something in his eyes changed—resistance wavering.
"Three days," Maria said again, gentler now. "Just try. That's all I'm asking."
The silence stretched. Then Shadow's shoulders dropped, just barely. Defeat, or acceptance—Sonic couldn't tell which.
"Fine," Shadow said. The word came out clipped.
Maria's smile returned, warmer now. She squeezed Shadow's arm once, then stepped back, and her professional mask slid back into place like it had never left.
"Wonderful," she said, voice lifting back to that bright, authoritative tone. She turned to include Sonic again. "You'll have exclusive access to this rink for private practice sessions. I'll work with you directly on choreography. We'll schedule short, focused sessions and build progressively. It's challenging, certainly, but achievable."
Sonic looked at Shadow. Shadow looked back. No words were exchanged, but both could tell the other had identical thoughts. Achievable. Right.
"First session tomorrow morning," Maria said. "Seven AM. We'll start with partnering fundamentals, then move into choreography. I'll have a framework ready."
"Seven," Sonic echoed. His voice sounded like it was coming from underwater.
"In the morning," Shadow added flatly. The way he said it, with that particular emphasis, made it sound less like confirmation and more like he was already doubting Sonic would actually show up on time.
Sonic's ears flicked back. Really? We're doing this now?
He bit back a retort. Not worth it.
"Excellent!" Maria's smile could've lit the entire facility. "I suggest you both get adequate rest tonight. Tomorrow will be intensive."
She left, heels clicking a steady rhythm down the corridor until the sound faded into nothing. Just the hum of cooling systems remained. Sonic and Shadow stood on the ice, several feet of careful distance between them, neither moving.