Five Snapshots

Rating: K+

Warnings: Sonic has a potty mouth sometimes. Teenagers. Someone takes a swig of beer. As is standard with my fics, I project the characters out further than the media goes into, so they can be read as OOC.

Notes: I have seven fics in the works and this is the one I decide to spend all afternoon and evening working on. Ah well, I really needed this dash of domesticity. A lot of Sonic fics revolve around action—which makes sense, considering it's an action filled series—but I enjoy domestic things far too much. I like to think about how the characters interact when they're not under stress of adventures and missions. This was also an exercise in tense, which is why the sections alternate between present and past; helps break things up too. None of these are in any particular part of the series (except the second section, which follows shortly after Sonic 2), and it's easier to assume that Sonic is around sixteen so Tails is nine. The summary says that this is part four of a series, but you don't have to read the other parts (though it would be appreciated!).

Everything in this fic is intended to be platonic and brotherly. Please don't read into it.

Disclaimer: I in no way condone or encourage underage drinking, but the joke was too hard to pass up. Further, all recognizable material belongs to Sega and their affiliates.

Onward!

One

They are zooming along Monopole's busiest skyway, Tails guiding the hovercar around numerous other craft, nearly scraping by in some cases. There aren't any speed limits up here, and on any other day Sonic would be concerned with the speed, but he's chosen to ignore the countless traffic infractions the fox is currently in the process of executing with flawless flair. If they get pulled over, one look at the hedgehog in the passenger seat will get them away scot free anyway—one of the innumerable perks of being a hero.

Sonic is far too busy jamming out to the heavy rock song blasting out the speakers. It's some human band he came across years ago and still loves to pieces. Tails knows every word through osmosis alone, and Sonic is sure that he's sick of it by now, but it's a lazy day of driving and sightseeing so he doesn't attempt to change it. Never mind that he usually stands by the strict driver-chooses-the-music rule—there's no reason to rain on Sonic's parade.

Knuckles is pouting in the backseat, staring broodingly out the window with his hands cupping his ears, has been since they left Mystic Ruins this morning. Knuckles isn't much of a conversationalist at the best of times, and, when cooped up in a small car with one of the biggest annoyances in his life—i.e. Sonic—he is downright hostile. It's almost funny, the lengths he goes to to make his discomfort known without actually saying anything about it.

"Do you have to always have that horrible music playing?" he demands suddenly as Tails swerves into a space between two cars that seems too small for their craft. There's a certain magic that comes out of the fox when he's at the controls of any type of vehicle—the type that allows him to pull crazy maneuvers in the air and dart hovercrafts through gaps that are two sizes too small. It is a testament to his skill that the music is the thing Knuckles is complaining about, not the way he nearly tumbles around the backseat. "Why can't we enjoy the silence?"

"Do you hear that?" Sonic responds, leaning forward and twisting the volume knob all the way up. The hovercar buzzes under their feet, the power of the bass sending Knuckles scrambling to shove his palms against his ears again. When Sonic's voice comes again, it's at a yell, but with forced nonchalance, "Ah, the sweet absence of whining!"

Knuckles meets Tails' eyes in the rearview mirror, helpless, and the fox laughs, a chiming sound that floats to the top of the music. Sonic is giving an impressive air guitar performance in his seat, feet braced on the ground, head thrown back, hitting the exact strums with the music. Knuckles' plight is left forgotten in lieu of this, resting with the echidna as the bass drum beats into his chest, and he does his best to ignore Sonic's thrashing.

Tails veers between two hoverbuses, letting their passengers get a good view of Sonic the Hedgehog ripping his air guitar to shreds and the Guardian of Angel Island pounding his head against the window.

Life as usual, really.

.

.

Two

The first thunderstorm that struck after Sonic quote-unquote 'adopted' Tails was the worst.

Really, it wasn't a spectacular storm, just a small squall that kicked up like a fussy child before sweeping away, but it was the first thing to leave Sonic completely helpless. He was out getting something to eat when it hit, sudden, unexpected, a sneak attack from an angry sky, and he zipped back to the hotel they had been holed up in for a few days with only a small amount of worry. After all, Tails was safe and dry in their room.

When he opened the door, juggling two paper bags of fast food and a pair of matching styrofoam cups, he was greeted with darkness. "Jeeze Tails," he muttered into the void, searching blindly for the light switch as the door swished closed behind him. Eventually, through more luck than design, his hand happened across the switch and the room flared into the visible plane. The first bed's blankets were on shucked half off, and Sonic could see the golden tips of two large ears peeking out from around the end. He sighed and put the food down on the small desk situated next to the television and turned to the kit.

He expected to be tackled into submission, but what met his eyes made his heart stutter to a stop for a few seconds. Tails was curled into a small ball, namesakes wrapped around his body, between the two beds, eyes dilated in fear and staring into the middle distance, unseeing. The blankets were under him, so he obviously fell off the bed at some point, and Sonic's heart kicked back into action as a boom of thunder rattled the windows.

Tails jerked, fur standing to attention like tiny men ready for battle, and the hedgehog realized he was quaking, small tremors that wracked his whole body. Sonic dropped down beside him and carefully placed a hand on his shoulder, hoping not to startle him. The fox didn't react in the slightest.

Sonic was at a loss. He was a child, nearly eleven years old, who was trying to care for another child. Granted, Tails was brighter than anyone the hedgehog had ever met and that helped him forget their situation, but that didn't change the fact that he was ill prepared to take care of things better left to a parent. Tails was usually nothing but big, bright eyes, jabbering tangents that left him in the dust, and large toothy smiles—not a care in the world. The terrified child in front of him was the antithesis of the kid Sonic had gotten to know. The ambition and positivity was gone, replaced with blind terror, and Sonic had no idea what to do.

In the end, he wrapped the blankets around Tails' stiff body, muttering soothing words under his breath as he did so. He positioned himself with his back to the nightstand and pulled the kit into his lap, bowing his head so he was murmuring into his bangs. Each time thunder struck, he tightened his hold and rocked the two of them, making promises and then reaffirming them.

"This will never happen again," was the first one. "I can't chase off the storms, but I can make sure I'm here when they hit. You're not alone anymore, Tails."

He imagined a frail, thin, two tailed child huddling in a cave, a box, an alleyway, wherever he lived before Sonic found him, as thunder exploded around him. The most terrifying experience of childhood multiplied ten-fold through the stinging pellets of rain, the wind shrieking, lightning cracking the sky in two. Shivering and soaked, wishing for nothing but an end, a storm stretching into infinity.

"I've got you," came the second, whispered in between thunderclaps. Tails' body was relaxing now, breathing slowing down in minute degrees. "I've got you. Nothing can hurt you here. You'll be okay."

A pair of dark eyes blinking at him from behind a bush, a sense of amazement as Tails revealed his most sacred secret of flight, being struck dumb as the kid fixed his plane in no time, a peal of laughter as Sonic chased him across the beach and initiated a tickle fight when he inevitably caught him.

Repeated over and over, these small sentiments eased into Tails' head, allowing him to shake the fright away. It began with a flicker of his ears, continued through to a pair of blinking eyes, and finished with a focused gaze, straight into Sonic. Those eyes were still filled with a fright so thick it was a wonder the four-year-old could see through it, but he did.

"Sonic?" His voice was hoarse, cracking, a thunderclap all on its own to Sonic's raw senses.

"Hey kid," the hedgehog whispered so lowly he barely heard it himself. "I lost you for a while there."

A sudden blast of thunder took Tails away again, locking him back in a seized body. Sonic pulled him tight against his chest and resumed his rocking. It took five minutes for Tails to emerge again, blinking owlishly up at the hedgehog.

"I'm sorry," he bit out, hands curling around the blankets in tight balls.

Sonic tsked. "None of that, kid. You deal with me when I'm near water. It's about time I return the favor."

"No, I'm sorry—" The wind struck violently at the window, stopping the words dead in their tracks. Seconds passed before the child could speak again. "I'm sorry for not telling you."

The hedgehog smiled, a sad, tired thing that pulled on his face. "There's nothing to be sorry for. Everyone has fears. Why don't you close your eyes and try to get some sleep? I'll keep you safe."

Tails offered what Sonic assumed was supposed to a smile, but was watered down to a grimace in the storm, and turned his face into the hedgehog's chest. The thunder continued to draw the kit away, but, each time, he came back faster than the last, until the rain had turned to a drizzle and his breathing evened out. Sonic was asleep not long after, still hunched over, and clutching tightly to his charge even in slumber.

The hardest battle had been won.

.

.

Three

Knuckles likes to store beer in the workshop's refrigerator. Sonic isn't sure where he gets it, but, every time he opens the door there it is, staring him down from the back. He's never seen the echidna drink it, but he assumes he has to eventually. After all, the stock is always changing in number, even when there's no one there to let Knuckles in, and he knows it isn't Tails drinking it.

At least, he hopes so.

Tails, meanwhile, is playing a perpetual game with him. He denies the existence of any alcohol on the premises, even when Sonic holds open the fridge door and gestures quite emphatically at the dark brown bottles standing sentry against the white expanse of the back wall. "You're seeing things," Tails argues, squinting just as dramatically into the cold.

Sonic likes to believe that he's not being haunted by ghost beer bottles, thank you, and he's no fool. He knows an elaborate prank when he sees one, but he's not exactly the most patient person in the world. So, after the fourth instance in which Tails plays dumb in an attempt to make Sonic feel much of the same, he snaps.

"Look," he hisses, jerking the door open and ripping a bottle out. He shoves it into Tails' face and the fox has no choice but look at it. "What do you say now, wise guy?"

An eyeridge ticks upwards. "You're getting all worked up over that?"

"Yes!" Sonic screams, voice ripping through an octave. "There's beer in our fridge!"

The other eyeridge rises to meet its twin. "Is there?"

Sonic growls in an attempt to hold back the howl of rage that bubbles up his throat. He twists off the cap with a jerk of his fingers and tosses back a big swig, half to make a point and half to make sure he's not crazy. The alcohol burns on its way down and he falls into a hacking fit. "Chaos, that tastes like piss." He shoves the bottle into Tails' hands. "That's totally beer. Try it yourself. Put some hair on your chest."

Sonic can see the smile trying to fight its way across Tails' face and he knows right then that he's won. He feels a flash of vindication and gets ready to declare his victory when Tails chuckles. The bottle is left forgotten as Sonic watches Tails' eyes trail to his chest, and his heart drops as he realizes just what he has opened himself up to. "This coming from the reigning No Chest Fur king."

A flare of anger spikes in Sonic's belly. Yes, when compared to Shadow or Silver or even Tails himself, Sonic is a little lacking in the... chest fur department, but it isn't like that's something he can control. "I swear to Chaos, Tails, if this whole thing was an elaborate plan to poke fun at me for something so inconsequential—"

Tails is laughing now, loud barks of laughter that grate on Sonic's nerves. "Sonic— No, Sonic! You should've seen your face! You looked like I just kicked your puppy!"

"Tails."

The fox's laughter comes to a stop in the face of his hard tone and he blinks once in surprise. "...what?"

"Run."

Sonic gives him a ten seconds head start.

.

.

Four

The humans liked to make video games based on Sonic's adventures.

Tails found the whole thing hilarious—but the little smartass found a lot of stuff hilarious so that wasn't particularly surprising— and he wasted no time informing Sonic about them when a new one came out. Sonic was divided on the issue, part of him wanted nothing to do with the limelight, but another part of him was morbidly curious. Somehow, Sonic always got his hands on a copy long before they were due to show up on Mobius, which never failed to confound Tails, but the fox learned to roll with it.

The most recent incarnation had left Sonic on the couch for hours, hunched over a controller as he harshly pounded the buttons. Really, Tails had never seen him sit still for so long—going on ten hours now—and he might have thought Sonic had up and died on his couch if not for the loud expletives that cascaded down the stairs to the workshop every half hour or so. By the time the rage filled shouts reached him, they had lost all meaning, nothing more than angry sounds, and Tails found himself wondering how this was the same hedgehog that faced down robots and traps without losing his cool. Sonic usually had a level head, but video games seemed to be a crack in his façade.

Tails dared to go into the kitchen when there was a lull in the yelling around hour ten and a half. His stomach had been complaining for a while now, but he didn't want to face the beast Sonic became when electronic characters weren't doing what he said. The sounds of the television were quiet when Tails tip-toed up the stairs, and he managed to get some leftover pizza into the microwave before Sonic's voice blasted back into being.

"C'mon! I hit the jump button! Jump you sonova— I hate the camera!" A long pause as Sonic presumably died and was respawned. "All the way back here?!" he squawked, and Tails had a momentary flash of panic when he heard something crunch in the other room. "I hate this game. I hate it. Why am I playing this? I hate—! WHAT?!"

Tails couldn't help but chuckle as he pulled his food out of the microwave. There was something hilarious about Sonic the Hedgehog, Hero of Mobius, getting worked up over a video game, especially since it was a game based off an adventure he had previously succeeded at. Tails couldn't think about video game Sonic falling to his death down bottomless pits in Green Hill without laughing a bit. It was all so ridiculous. If only they could collect one hundred rings and get an extra try. If only.

"This game is broken," Sonic pronounced at length, voice resigned. "The homing attack is broken. The camera is broken. And I don't look like that."

He sounded tired, so Tails assumed he was done for the day. Maybe he would finally get off his butt and wash some of the dishes. Chaos knew he was the one who built most of the pile threatening to burst out of the sink at any moment. Tails took his pizza back down to the workshop and ate while he surfed the Internet. He had an algorithm that checked all major databases for any mention of Eggman or his movements, but sometimes he liked to search himself. It was relaxing in a way, trolling through different search engines for the heck of it.

About fifteen minutes later, a loud roar crashed down the stairs, shattering Tails' brief peace. There was an explosive cracking sound, and then all was still. Tails pushed timidly away from the desk, trepidation already worming its way into his veins. He didn't want to know, really didn't. But he had to go upstairs and see what Sonic had broken. There was no way a sound that expensive hadn't come from something breaking. He just prayed it wouldn't put a huge dent in his bank account.

He scaled the stairs silently. The atmosphere upstairs was pretty calm considering the rage that had just exploded from its sole occupant, but that was a symptom of Sonic's anger spikes. They left as soon as they came, leaving behind an apologetic hedgehog. Tails usually let him off easy, considering they only came about when he was playing video games or thinking about Shadow, but he was prepared to give him a bad time if the damage was bad enough.

He stepped up beside Sonic and stopped, trying to remain calm as he took in the scene in front of him. "The TV," he announced eventually in a deathly calm voice. "You broke the TV."

Said appliance was leaning against the wall behind it, a huge impact crater spider-webbing out from the center. Sonic chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Uh, yeah, I guess I... did?"

"Oh my Chaos. You broke the TV! What did you do—frisbee the controller into it?!"

Sonic's green eyes flickered toward the controller, intact and resting on the floor, still attached to the console, which whirred with life in the face of this carnage. The hedgehog coughed, sheepish, and Tails felt his mouth drop open.

"You threw the controller into the TV." He paused, waiting for Sonic to nod. The hedgehog did so timidly. "I can't believe this! I can't believe— Don't you have any self control?! What is wrong with you?!"

"Tails, calm down. I can buy a new TV. It's fine."

The fox took a few deep breaths, trying to bring his anger down to manageable levels. He had to get away from this. He needed to go back down to the workshop where things were in order and not broken. He turned away. "No more video games."

"W-what?"

"No more. You can play them somewhere else. You are not going to—"

"C'mon Tails. You should've seen the level I was playing. You would've done it too."

Tails sighed and waved him off. "Whatever. Go get a new TV."

He walked away, leaving Sonic wondering just when Tails became the older brother.

.

.

Five

Sonic frequently finds Tails asleep at his desk. The fox is a chronic workaholic, to the point that the hero has to drag him out of the workshop to ensure that he sees the sun every few days. Sonic usually has to carry him up to bed at some point in the middle of the night, which should have annoyed him but he doesn't mind. Tails is growing up, but it is nice to be able to do that small thing for him as he becomes more independent. The hedgehog has fond memories of tucking the kid in when he was smaller, so he is happy to be able to keep that the same, even if it's to a smaller degree. It is a small comfort, a reminder of simpler, quieter times.

Less frequently, Tails finds Sonic sitting up on the couch at what the hedgehog fondly calls the ass crack of dawn. He's usually wrapped in a blanket, mug of hot cocoa warming his hands, staring dully at the flickering television. These are the mornings where the fox knows that Sonic hasn't simply gotten up early—he's been up all night. He has too many thoughts in his head at once sometimes, especially when Eggman starts creating ripples. Sonic has the incredible ability to micromanage and compartmentalize—he has to, considering everything he's seen, or else he'll break down—but sometimes his mind can't keep up with all of the things that take up his attention.

This results in a night lost in thought, spiraling to places where even Tails can't reach him. Sonic lives in a constant state of self assurance, and his big head has gotten him into trouble before—the Zeti incident comes to mind—but there is a small, evil worm of self doubt that hides inside him. It comes out annually at his birthday, and sometimes makes itself known at the worst of times. A chilly night in early November in this particular instance, the changing weather chasing everyone inside for the long haul. Sonic's body wants to hibernate, despite how far removed he is from his feral ancestors, and the internal fight he has with himself brings out a quieter, more subdued hedgehog.

Tails supposes that the nights where he fights to stay awake are an attempt to claim control over himself. He sleeps more in winter, but never at night, which strikes Tails as a sort of paradox. But, he doesn't mention it, only joins Sonic on the couch because he always gets up at five on his regular schedule anyway, and they watch the morning news together before the hedgehog retreats to his room, where he will sleep the morning and part of the afternoon away. The contemplative silence that sticks to Sonic like a second skin only leaves Tails on edge. These nights are more common when it's colder, but it's always unnerving to think of Sonic sitting in the dark, lost in the corridors of his mind. This is the dude that leapt before he looked and frequently got himself into messy situations simply because he didn't take the time to think.

This morning, Tails pads down the stairs and finds Sonic where he expects him to bed. He's sans cocoa today and laying across the couch instead of sitting, but the atmosphere is much the same. Tails sighs.

"What're you doing up?" he asks, even though he knows the answer. Sometimes, getting Sonic to acknowledge what he is doing out loud makes him realize how ridiculous he's being.

"Nothing." That's true enough, and Sonic knows it; looks like he's gonna be difficult this morning.

"Go to bed," Tails presses, looming over the hedgehog in what he hopes is a threatening pose.

"Can't."

"It's five in the morning."

"I know." He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. "Did you know Station Square is planning a big parade for Thanksgiving?" His arms drop to his sides, flopping uselessly. "We should go."

"Mobians don't celebrate Thanksgiving, and don't change the subject. You stayed up all night thinking again."

It's not a question and Sonic knows it. He winces. "I watched some TV too."

Tails sighs and pushes Sonic's legs off the couch so he can sit down. The television is on, but it is muted, so a fat lot of good that is doing to distract the speedster. "Your one man rebellion against winter doesn't work if you sleep all day."

Sonic sniffs haughtily in exaggerated response. "Let me have this, Tails."

"What if Eggman were to attack right now? You're in no shape to stop him."

Sonic attempts to sit up at that, but immediately lays back, moaning a bit about the room spinning. "Okay, so, I'll admit it. I need more sleep."

"At night," the fox insists.

"Hedgehogs are nocturnal," Sonic shoots back and the look on his face says that he thinks he's won.

"Says the hedgehog currently fighting against his feral roots. How do you spell hypocrite?"

Sonic groans. "You're too smart for your own good." He turns his head to look at the television, and there's a pause as he stares through it. "All right, fine. I'll try this sleeping at night thing."

Tails smiles in victory. "A revolutionary concept, I know. C'mon, I'll help you up the stairs."

"Yes, Mom."

"Y'know," Tails begins as he pulls Sonic to his feet, "you spent so much time taking care of me when we were younger. It's about time I returned the favor."

Sonic makes a sound deep in his throat, a hum of contentment. "You're welcome, by the way." He pauses so they can tackle the stairs, and, once they reach the summit, he turns back to his friend. "And thanks. I don't know where I'd be without you."

"Probably dead," Tails answers cheerily.

A huff of annoyance. "All right, I'm going to bed before you get any bright ideas. G'night kiddo."

"Good morning, Sonic. See you this afternoon."

The hedgehog disappears into his bed room with a wave, and Tails sighs one last time before turning back to the stairs.

Life as usual.

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