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The stands surrounding the race track are absolutely packed. It’s a big race, too - so big that Jet can’t remember the last time he was in a race this big. Maybe never. He wouldn’t be surprised if this is the biggest one of his career. So far, that is. He’s still only seventeen; it’s not a stretch to say he has another ten, maybe fifteen years as an Extreme Gear pro. There are others who last longer. He certainly could.
Anyone else might be nervous, but this is what he lives for. People flock to him. He’s good at what he does; he has the fans to prove it. The only thing better than stealing is recognition, and he gets plenty of that when he wrecks any other idiot who bothers to show up at the track. That being said, the sport has become even more popular since Sonic the Hedgehog took an interest three years ago, and more and more small time races have been popping up over the years - it’s what has to happen to accommodate the boom of new racers. There are more championships than there used to be, too; last he checked, there were three big ones, though only one was global. It doesn’t bother him, really. Along with more competition, there’s been more viewership, and more viewership means more sponsors and more money. Still, it rankles him that some blue idiot can show up for all of five minutes and blow the whole thing apart.
Then he disappears, leaving Jet to pick up the pieces in a changed game. What a tool.
Wave thinks he’s bitter because he misses Sonic or something, which is just stupid. Sure, he was a fun guy. They had a cool adventure. But it had been three years, and Jet had his own career to think about.
A career that had led him to this race - one of many, many more to come. And one he was sure he would win, just like he always did.
(Shut up, Wave, he’s lost like, twice. Twice.)
He can hear the hype from the crowd all the way from the racers tent. Under the noise of hundreds (thousands?) of people, there’s the usual shit talk being exchanged. Some of the racers are folks he recognizes - he’s been up against a few of them before, or seen them in their own races. None of them talk to him. It’s what he wants. Definitely.
Wave is making a few last minute adjustments to his board, checking that everything is tuned and perfect. She’s still his go-to mechanic and she always will be. She’s still boring , too, though he’s gotten just a little better at listening over the years. Only a little, though. He mentions this because, as per usual, she’s walking him through everything she does like it’s her job (it isn’t, she’s only paid for mechanic stuff, not stodgy lectures). What she’s doing with this part, why she’s using this tool or that tool or the other one. It blends together. With the noise, it’s even easier to tune out.
She must notice, at last, and she kicks him in the leg. Hard. Her boots are heavy.
“You’re impossible,” Wave says with a roll of her eyes. Her fingers fiddle with the small, delicate parts of his board, even without her watching closely. “Or are you just nervous?”
“I’m not nervous,” he snaps. It’s not a lie; he isn’t nervous, per say. But the blood in his veins is hot and full of adrenaline. Only twenty minutes to go. It might as well be twenty years.
“Of course not,” she says in a way that makes it sound like she doesn’t believe him. She does - she just likes to get under his skin. “You know, if you could do this shit yourself I wouldn’t have to come to every race.”
“You would anyway,” he scoffs. “You like them just as much as I do, don’t lie to me.”
Wave huffs. “Well, I’d certainly enjoy them more out in the stands.”
“Tickets are stupid expensive. You love free shit.”
Wave smiles and flips him a finger-gun with the hand not currently holding one of her tools. “You’re right about that,” she says, and sets the rest of her tools aside before picking his board up off the table and handing it over. “It should be fine.”
“Should?”
“You know what I mean,” she says. “Go sign some autographs or something if you’re going to a dick. The fans like it way more than I do.”
“As if.”
He takes his board from her. It’s bigger than the one he used to use, since he’s grown a bit over the past few years. Not, he notes with some annoyance, very much. He’s still shorter than Wave, and much shorter than Storm - but come on, the guy’s an albatross. Jet can’t compete with that. He’s sure his big idiot friend is somewhere in the stands himself, cheering like a loon.
He opens his mouth to say more, but Wave is looking past him with a strange expression on her face. Before he says anything, she puts a hand on his shoulder from across the table she was using moments before to check his board and gently turns his upper body to look at the space she’s been staring at.
Recognition is immediate, and suddenly his blood is pumping even louder than before. He feels it under his skin, like it's trying to push out from his pores. The entrance curtain is drawn back from the tent, and there in the open space is a familiar blue figure. One he hasn’t seen in many years.
“Bet he’s looking for you,” Wave tells him with a smirk.
“Why the fuck would he be looking for me?” Jet demands lowly as Sonic the Goddamn Stupid Lousy Hedgehog glances around the tent full of racers. His little orange shadow, Ears or whatever, is right behind him. Though that one’s gotten much taller in three years - he’s only a little shorter than Jet, he’d guess.
“I don’t know, idiot, maybe because you’re the only Extreme Gear racer here he’s ever been friends with?” Wave shoots back. “Be a normal person and go say hi.”
“Shut up,” he retorts, just as the pair at the entrance catch sight of them. Jet can see Sonic’s grin grow ever wider and he inclines his head to the fox, saying something that Jet certainly can’t hear from where he is. Jet turns back to face his companion and glares.
“Why now?” Jet hisses at Wave, who smacks him upside of the head. It doesn’t hurt, but he still gives her a look containing as much indignation as he can muster.
“Who cares?” she says. “It looks like he’s excited to see you. Be nice for once in your life.”
He absolutely will not.
“Jet!” he hears from behind him. The tent is still ridiculously loud, but there’s no way he can ignore this sudden visit because Wave instantly straightens up and smiles.
“Well, look who it is,” she says. It’s so phony Jet wants to puke. “Sonic and Tails. You’ve gotten big, kid.”
Jet compiles a list of things from her apartment that he is going to steal and burn and turns around, board still in hand. Suddenly, he can feel the tightness of his goggles around his head. Have his feathers always felt so messy? His gloves are too warm. Goddamn this.
“Hi, Wave!” the fox, who Jet has now been indirectly informed is named Tails, says brightly. He was right - now that they’re closer, Jet can tell he’s is only a couple inches shorter than him. The tails for which he’s gotten his nickname sway around excitedly behind him. “Hi, Jet! Long time no see!”
Wave glances at him expectantly. The little fox managed to earn her respect - somehow - so he guesses she wants him to at least acknowledge the kid genius.
“Hi,” he grumbles.
“You’re as friendly as ever,” Sonic says. He’s taller, too, though he hasn’t grown as much as his friend. He’s lean, too, like a runner. No excess muscle. Still unstylishly unclothed as well. Jet’s taken to wearing a nice windbreaker with the logos of his sponsors printed across the arms and back, though it can get pretty hot mid-race.
“The fans love it,” Wave tells him. “Unfortunately. Gives him an even bigger ego.”
“Hey!” Jet exclaims. Sonic laughs.
“Yeah, I bet they do,” he says. Jet’s traitorous stomach flips.
“You two here to see us?” Wave asks, leaning against the table.
“We were in the area,” Tails replies. “It’s been so long since either of us have been to a race! I figured it would be good bonding, ha ha.” He rubs the back of his gloved hand nervously.
“You’re in luck,” Wave says. “It’s a big one this time around. Hope you got some good seats.”
Sonic says, “Sure did,” like it’s a given.
“So what’ve you been up to, kid?” Wave directs this question at Tails, who brightens at the prospect of sharing his many, many mechanical exploits. They drift together right away, Tails talking animatedly and Wave nodding along with genuine interest. Jet isn’t sure how much of it she understands (though maybe that’s giving her too little credit). What he really cares about is how the two of them have left him and Sonic to their own devices.
Sonic lets his brother take Wave’s full attention and turns his own to Jet, who hasn’t moved.
“You excited?” Sonic asks
“Obviously,” Jet scoffs. “It’ll be good to win. Which I always do.”
Sure, it’s a little heavy-handed, but it gets a good enough reaction that Jet can ignore his own stupid mouth.
“You’ve definitely never lost a race that I’ve watched,” Sonic says. “Though I do remember beating you more than once when we were younger.”
Jet very pointedly ignores that tidbit of information. Inside, though, he’s dying because what the fuck Sonic’s watched his races what the fuck-
Outwardly, he sneers. “That was three years ago, hedgehog. I’ve had a professional career for a while now. I’d wipe the floor with you.”
Sonic chuckles. “Big words from a dude who won half our races with years more practice under his belt, but if you want to lie to yourself I can’t stop you.”
“You’re just as insufferable as I remember.”
“Hey, it’s part of my charm.”
Now it’s Jet’s turn to laugh. “Is that what you call it?” he asks snidely. Sonic elbows him. The action itself is so friendly it almost tips Jet right over. Three years, and they’re right back to where they left off, huh?
“How long do you have until you have to be out there?” the hedgehog asks.
“Ten minutes,” Jet replies. “Why? You got ten more minutes of trash talk for me or something?”
“Nah, dude. Maybe if we were racing each other, but it’s a little harder when it’s just you,” Sonic says. “I was just wondering how long we had to talk.”
Jet wants to rip his own heart out and eat it for beating faster when he says that. Instead of doing that very crazy, very disgusting thing, he swallows as hard as physically possible. “There’s always after the race,” he says.
Sonic considers this. “If you want. I mean, I figured you’d have an interview or a meet and greet or something, but if you got the time it’d be good to catch up.”
Fuck him. “Nah, that happens beforehand. I’m free after this.”
What was coming out of his mouth? The lying is smooth and easy, gliding across his tongue. He always has interviews, because he always wins. His agent makes him participate in a few fan interactions, sign a few babies every so often (which, like, why?). It’s an absolute lie that he doesn’t have to. He likes the interviews. They feed the ego that Wave so often complains about.
Sonic doesn’t catch the lies. “Alright! Where should I meet you?”
“Back at this tent,” Jet says. “No one will give a shit if it’s Sonic the Hedgehog.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah,” he says. “I’m sure.”
Jet has never been that fast in his entire life. It’s a thrill that he barely feels. His arms are numb from the feeling of the wind smashing into him, his fingers sore from the way he clenches them in their gloves. Still, none of it gets through the way the seething in his chest and gut do, a roiling storm of excitement he only continues to feed. It’s all there is, along with the thought that of all people in the world, Sonic is watching him right now. Somewhere in the stands, there’s a familiar blue hedgehog cheering with the crowd, and that brings up something in him that is both new and very old.
He wins, because of course he does. It’s not the landslide he assumes it is (his mind goes blank, he’s operating on instinct and muscle memory alone), but he still wins. The crowd is in a frenzy, and Wave is already pulling him aside when he exits the track.
“Blue told me your plans,” she says with a knowing grin and a wink. “Get out of here before the media catches you.”
He doesn’t thank her but he nods once, a simple sign of appreciation, and leaves his board with her as he darts between people and away from the track, towards the tent that is now empty of racers. Inside, Jet is granted a few minutes alone to thoroughly freak the fuck out after he strips his jacket off and tosses it on a table. What is he doing , ignoring his job for a chance to talk to someone he hasn’t seen in years? What kind of logical person does that? Just because the reason for his gay awakening shows up right in front of him, taller and still just as stupidly confident as always, that doesn’t mean he can just stealth his way past an army of media and-
He stops thinking when Sonic enters the tent, his hand pulling away the cloth of the entrance long enough to step inside.
“Dude!” he exclaims, walking with purpose to where Jet has been pacing the grass to death. “Congrats! You did good out there.”
Jet is barely listening. He grabs Sonic’s hand and turns away from where they both came in, quickly pulling the other boy out through the side of the tent and away from the racing track as fast as possible. They’re both very nearly running, and Jet’s shoe almost catches in the dirt once or twice. Luckily he always catches himself, because he’d literally find the nearest cliff and jump off if he tripped right now.
Once they’ve hopped the railing that separates the city from the track and the crowds, Jet lets Sonic’s hand go. The embarrassment of it outweighs the giddy feeling he’s trying to suppress, but Sonic doesn’t seem at all offended. In fact, he’s still grinning.
“You’re so full of shit. Did you just ditch your winner’s interview to hang out with me?”
“Shut. The fuck. Up.” Jet is panting. He’s a fit guy, but after three laps and what basically amounts to a sprint across a park he’s having a hard time catching his breath.
Sonic nearly cackles in response. “If I knew you’d be that excited to see me, I would’ve tried to catch you at a race a long time ago.”
Jet’s head swivels and he stares Sonic dead in the eyes. “What?” he squawks.
“Yeah, I, uh. I’ve been to like twenty of your races. Give or take.”
“And you didn’t say anything?”
Sonic’s grin turns sheepish. He’s running a hand over the back of his neck like he’s been caught in the middle of something. “I figured it had been so long since we last saw each other. I don’t know, I guess… I was nervous?”
I’m going to kill this man, Jet thinks. They’ve been standing there too long, though, right outside the central park of the city - people are going to start noticing them soon. Around them on the sidewalk, humans and mobians alike are turning their heads as they walk past, whispering to their companions. Jet can only imagine when they’re saying.
“I’ll make fun of you while we walk,” he says. Something about this comes as a relief to both of them, and Sonic’s shoulders relax a bit. They fall into a quick walk together. It’s as easy as breathing.
“If you’re going to make fun of me for that, then I’m going to make fun of you for dragging me through an entire park just so we can have a conversation.”
Jet huffs. “You’re a jackass.”
“And you’re a hypocrite.”
“Using our big boy words now?” Jet asks slyly. “Where’d you learn that one, a kid’s menu word search?”
“Pretty advanced word search for a kid’s menu if you ask me,” Sonic replies.
“Well, I didn’t.”
Sonic laughs. It’s stupid how much Jet likes his laugh. “What are you going to do to stop me?” he asks, and Jet doesn’t have a witty reply to that.
So instead, he says, “So where are we going?”
“You hungry?”
“Very,” Jet says.
“We’ll go get food, then. My treat,” Sonic tells him. “Since you won.”
Hearing Sonic say that may be Jet’s favorite thing in the world.
They have to walk a while to find a place to order food that isn’t full. Races always gather crowds of hungry patrons, especially ones that take place in the middle of a huge city. The place they end up isn’t too expensive or too cheap, and serves what Jet would describe as adequate pizza. They both order two slices each and take their food to sit at one of the dining tables outside.
“Is your brother going to be okay on his own?” Jet asks. It is uncharacteristic for him to think about something like this at all, let alone ask. Wave’s been working with him on his (atrocious) people skills, and he’s to the point where he can pretend to care, when he can be bothered enough to do even that.
“He’ll be fine,” Sonic replies, raising a slice of cheesy pizza to his mouth. “He’ll probably want to talk about nerd stuff with Wave for a while, anyway.”
Jet nods once and takes a bite of his own pizza. It’s too hot, but he’s suddenly starving. Races always make his appetite go buck wild.
“We had a lot of fun today,” Sonic adds as an afterthought. “I forgot how into races we can both be. Though for the record, I’d rather be one of the participants than the spectators.”
“Of course you would.”
Sonic gives him a smirk. “Says you.”
Jet kicks him under the table. From where he sits across from Jet, Sonic grunts at the sudden pain in his leg and glares.
“Anyone would enjoy watching me race,” Jet says. “People tell me they got into racing because of me all the time.”
“I bet Wave loves that.”
Jet snorts into his food. “Considering how much money she makes off being my mechanic, she’d better love it.”
“You make that much?”
Jet lowers his pizza to grin smugly. “And then some,” he says. “What about you? Adventuring pay well?”
“Not sure I’d go that far,” Sonic says. “But I’m doing alright. Remember when the planet broke into pieces?”
“Of course that was you.” Jet should have guessed.
“Well, people were pretty happy when it got put back together. I’ve got a house on most of the continents now, though I don’t really use them that often.”
“No shit?”
Sonic laughs at his disbelief. “I’m all over, though. I don’t really need money when I’m constantly moving around or fighting Eggman, you know? Tails is making some decent cash from his patents. He sends something over whenever I need it.”
Living with the Rogues on the airship had been a lot like that, Jet remembers. They didn’t usually stay in one place very long, unless they were stealing a lot of shit in the area. After that, they wouldn’t come back for a while - better to avoid whoever happened to remember them and their various misdeeds. It probably helped him adjust to all the traveling he had to do now. Races were all over the continent. All over the world, really. He had his own place, in the same building as Wave’s apartment in the same city his agent was based in, but Jet couldn’t say how much time he actually spent there.
“We’re both pretty all over the place, then,” Jet notes. He’s already pretty much demolished his first slice because, hey, what can he say? Racing makes him hungry.
“Your trips are probably more organized.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Jet says. “Though my agent is basically always on my ass about what we’re doing next. I swear, I can’t relax at home for longer than a week without him calling me up and telling me about the next race.”
Sonic smiles. It’s irritating and lovely.
“What about the off season?” he asks. Jet forgets how much he probably knows about Extreme Gear racing.
“Still gotta practice,” Jet says. Sonic nods and takes a bite of his next slice thoughtfully.
“You’ve gotten really good,” Sonic says. “I mean, since we first met. You were pretty good then, too.”
Jet sniffs. “I’d hope so. It’s all I do.”
“I don’t know, I still think I could give you a run for your money.”
“Is this what it’s like to talk to me?” Jet asks snidely. He gets a laugh out of Sonic for that one.
“Maybe it is.”
Jet meets his eyes and can’t help but laugh himself.
It’s almost impressive how easily they fall into conversation. Neither notices when they’ve finished their food, and it takes almost twenty minutes for one of them to catch it. He feels embarrassed, just for a moment, until he notices Sonic’s abashed smile. It’s cute. Goddamn him, it’s cute, and he hates it, and it makes him feel a little better for being so wrapped up in the moment that he can’t even be bothered to notice they’ve been sitting in front of a restaurant with empty plates for almost half an hour.
“Know any good hang outs around here?” Sonic asks, and Jet nods.
There are a number of attractions in the city. Most require money and commitment, and while Jet isn’t exactly lacking in the former he isn’t especially interested in finding an escape room or a bowling alley to fuss around in. So they end up at some fountains in midtown.
The fountains themselves are set into the ground, and spray up in long arks or different patterns every few seconds. It’s still technically summer, so there are plenty of kids splashing around in them. Parents watch on from around the square, sitting in the islands of grass or at the tables chained to various trees and poles. It’s not a large space, with sets of businesses on three sides and a crowd moving past on the sidewalk. But it is casual and inviting. That’s about what Jet can handle right now.
They find a patch of grass furthest from the fountains and sit down. The sounds of kids yelling and adults talking and cars moving in the street beyond fills every second. For Jet, it’s unusual, almost bothersome. Sonic doesn’t seem at all troubled though, so Jet ignores the pinprick of aggravation in the back of his mind.
“What’s your other friend doing these days?” Sonic asks, and the fact that Jet has all of two friends he could possibly be talking about reminds Jet just how much he rubs people the wrong way.
“Storm. He’s doing his own thing,” Jet replies, trying not to feel irritated. “He does security consultation. Turns out years of stealing gives you a pretty good idea how to keep other people from stealing.
“Oh yeah?” Sonic asks. He sounds surprised.
Jet shrugs. “I guess it’s going well. He has his own place in the same city me and Wave do.”
“Huh. Well, if it works for him, I guess.”
“He comes to the races sometimes. He was there today, y’know.”
“Oh yeah?” Sonic says. “It’s nice that you have people to support you.”
The genuineness strikes him and leaves him reeling. If he weren’t already sitting still, he’d have been stopped in his tracks like a scared puppy. This, Jet thinks, is new - new, but not unwelcome. They definitely weren’t this honest when they were younger. Well, he wasn’t. That’s for damn sure.
Sonic seems to recognize his hesitation and his cautious smile returns. If Jet were better with words, he’d tell him that he didn’t mind; that he likes how Sonic is trying to change their dynamic a little bit, providing some much needed authenticity in an otherwise pretty stagnant relationship.
Don’t get him wrong, he likes the rivalry. Loves it, in fact. It’s a thrill, and no one could ever keep up with him the way Sonic could. But can’t there be more to it then that, maybe?
Ugh, that’s stupid. Thinking about this makes his head hurt.
“Yeah,” Jet manages at last. “They’re… good people, I guess.”
The lull in the conversation gives him more of a chance to think. What is it he really wants from this, he wonders. They could certainly be friends - call each other on the weekends, text every now and again. Sonic could keep showing up to his race and they’d talk. Jet could take the opportunity to stare wistfully when they hung out, maybe even keep himself up at night with the thought of seeing Sonic next. Like he used to. Like he will probably do tonight. Because nothing had changed, not really. Jet was right back where he had ended when Babylon had risen, and he knew this ache wouldn’t go anywhere from here.
He was pretty stupid to expect anything different.
Despite this, Jet can’t say he would be unhappy just being friends. It’d be… nice. He doesn’t have very many, after all.
“Are you hot?” Sonic asks suddenly. Jet gives him an unamused look.
“No,” he says slowly.
Sonic’s grin can only be described as shit-eating. “Well, I am,” he replies, standing up. “Feel free to join me when you’re done being boring.”
“I’m not boring!” Jet squawks as Sonic crosses the grass to the fountains. He doesn’t stand up though, not yet, and he watches as Sonic darts through one of the streams of water. In seconds, he is absolutely soaked.
Jet knows exactly what’s going to happen when Sonic starts heading back.
“Don’t you dare ,” he says threateningly, scrambling back to the edge of the grass as the hedgehog approaches. Sonic ignores him and leans over, shaking his head rapidly to dislodge the water from his quills. Using his hands, Jet covers his face and only his face, feeling himself get absolutely pelted with cold water.
I’m actually going to kill him, he decides, standing up as Sonic cackles and runs away, back towards the fountains.
“Boring!” he hears him yell as he goes.
“Bastard,” Jet hisses in response, and tears after him.
It’s almost dark now. A few of the street lamps have come on, and there are fewer people out now. The fountain square is mostly empty. And Jet is absolutely soaked.
“I hate you so much,” he mutters at Sonic as the latter laughs, squeezing water out of his quills. How does he even look good doing that? It’s extremely unfair.
“But you had fun, and that’s what really matters.”
“I’m fucking freezing,” Jet snaps with no real venom. “Walking to my hotel is going to suck.”
Sonic is still snickering at his indignation. “Aw, poor baby,” he mocks. Jet shoves him through one of the streams of water that spurt up from the ground, resoaking the quills he had just done his best to dry out. Sonic sputters as Jet darts away, laughing.
“We should go before it gets dark,” Jet says, dodging the handful of water Sonic tosses at him easily. “It’ll be even colder then.”
“Alright,” Sonic says. “I’ll walk you to your hotel.”
He knows he doesn’t need the company, and that Sonic should also be getting on his way, but the suggestion still fills his chest with soft foamy feelings.
Jet couldn’t say what they talk about. It’s nothing and everything, words being said just to fill the space between them as they walk down the slowly darkening streets. Sonic tells him about all the places he’s been, some of the people he’s met. Jet feels himself tense involuntarily when he mentions that pink one, Amy Rose, and her single-minded quest to join every adventure he has. From what he remembers, the girl is wholeheartedly in love with Sonic, which really throws a wrench into whatever thing he’s feeling now. And he’s definitely feeling a thing , and Sonic doesn’t help the thing when he smiles big enough to show his stupid teeth, or when he gently presses his fingertips to Jet’s arm as they maneuver around groups of people on the sidewalk, or, worst of all, when Sonic says his name, like it’s his favorite word in the world.
Okay, maybe Jet is imagining that last one. He isn’t imagining the feeling it gives him, though; he hates to admit it, but all he really wants to do is kiss him.
They walk, and they talk, and the closer they get to Jet’s hotel room he can’t imagine how he’s going to say goodbye. The thread they’re hanging from is getting shorter by the second. He can see it. He can feel it.
What happens after they say goodbye? Last time, it had taken three years before they talked again. Now, older and more experienced but nonetheless still a nervous, loud asshole with poor people skills, Jet wonders if they can make it work. If they can be friends who message each other sometimes, who catch up when one of them is in town. Because, sure, Sonic’s been to a ton of his races. He’s watched the live coverage of the events. He’s tracked his social media and kept up on his posts. But maybe that’s just what people do, when they have an old friend in the limelight.
It shakes him, how quickly he’s become attached. Wave might be proud, he thinks, because that’s the sort of thing she’s proud of these days. But inside, he just feels rotten with worry.
And in the middle of his stupid, rambling thoughts, they finally reach Jet’s hotel. It’s in a nice part of the city - well-lit, still full of people. The entrance is big and arched, the building made of a cream-colored stone. There are flowers in planters outside, well cared for and in full bloom. When they stop, Jet can smell those flowers. It’s a sweet smell, sitting just under the normal scent of the city that he’s slowly getting used to.
He wonders if Wave is back at the hotel yet.
“You’re dry, finally,” Sonic says. He reaches up and tugs on a feather to emphasize his point. Jet just about melts.
“Yeah, finally,” he replies. “No thanks to you.”
“You’re awfully sour for someone who got a free dinner and a gentlemanly walk home.”
“If you’re what constitutes a gentleman, then I have some serious concerns,” Jet quips in response. Why is it, he thinks somewhat desperately, that these little back and forth exchanges come so easily? It would be better if he could manage to say one real thing. Maybe then they could get somewhere.
Maybe then he wouldn’t have had some stupid latent crush for three years.
“No one else complains as much as you do, you know,” Sonic says.
“Maybe not to your face.”
That earns him another laugh. He likes it when he can make Sonic laugh, though he hates himself for realizing that.
Sonic asks, “How long are you here for?”
“I’m leaving the day after tomorrow,” Jet tells him. “Gotta make up for blowing off that interview and actually show up to the one I have tomorrow.”
Sonic makes a sound of acknowledgement. They’re both left in an extended silence after that. Maybe the longest one they’ve ever shared. It’s awkward.
Why is he like this?
“You should call me,” Sonic says. “Sometime. Whenever.”
“I will,” Jet promises. “I’m a very busy bird, you know.”
“Sure you are.”
Jet cringes inwardly at himself - and, to some extent, at Sonic.
“I should-” Jet jerks his head at the front doors of the hotel. It’s almost completely dark now, only thin strands of pink reflected in the glass of the windows above them.
“Yeah, yeah,” Sonic says, like it’s obvious. He smiles again. Still wide and beautiful. “I’ll see you around.”
Jet nods jerkily. “See you, Sonic.”
He turns, and he’s several steps past the doors when he pauses. There’s an unshakable weight in the pit of his stomach, pinning him to the floor. Jet can see the elevator that he should be using to get up to his room. Not far from it, the receptionist at the front desk glances up at him and presents her best customer service smile.
“Welcome back, sir,” she says.
Jet turns immediately around and all but sprints out the front door.
Sonic is only a little ways down the street, a very obvious figure even if Jet wasn’t looking for him. From behind, Jet sees his right ear twitch.
Jet catches him by the arm, and Sonic just about jumps out of his skin.
“Holy fuck,” he says, right before Jet kisses him.
It’s encouraging that Jet is not promptly laid out on his ass. In fact, the only response he gets is Sonic’s hands on his shoulders, gripping him so firmly he feels the fabric of his gloves through his feathers. This has to be the most impulsive thing he’s ever done, bar none. Nothing comes close.
Jet pulls back. Sonic stops him right away, still maintaining that extremely tight grip on his upper arms as he pushes forward, meeting Jet in a kiss once again. After being on the edge of melting all evening, Jet finally does, falling forward and resting his hands on Sonic’s hips. The fur there is soft, almost as soft as his lips, and Jet fights through the dizzying spin that’s overwhelming his brain.
He pulls away, finally, finally, feeling like he’s more liquid than solid, and finds Sonic staring at him more intensely than he’s ever seen the hedgehog stare at anything before.
“Took you long enough,” he says quietly. His hands are less tight now, almost delicately cupping the areas of his arms they had been biting into before. It’s gentle, and warm.
“Fuck you,” Jet says, just as quietly. “You weren’t going any faster, idiot.”
“I would’ve gotten there,” Sonic argues. Jet relishes the feeling of his breath on his face. They’re still so, so close.
“Couldn’t beat me there, though,” Jet replies.
“Oh, did you just win by kissing me first?”
“Sure did.”
And to prove his point, he leans in one more time, cutting off any more stupid arguments from Sonic.
Wave is laying on her bed looking at her phone when Jet finally gets back into the room. She glances up, lowering the screen as she props herself up on her elbows, her neck aching from the position she’s put herself in (stomach down on the bed, arms resting on the edge of the bed as she looks down at her phone. It’s terribly uncomfortable. She’s not going to move, though).
“You’ve been out a long time,” she observes. “How’d it go?”
Jet, still dazed, wanders into the bathroom without answering. The faucet runs, then shuts off. He comes back out into the room with a towel over his head, covering the feathers that have dried strangely since running through the fountains.
“I kissed Sonic.”
Wave laughs. Then, she realizes he’s serious.
“What?”
He pulls the towel tighter around his head to hide his exceptionally stupid grin while she continues to squawk at him. Jet has to laugh.
What a day, he thinks.