Nostalgia

Rating: T (because I feel like it)

Warnings: Gratuitous overuse of 50s slang.

Notes: Well, if you know me even a little, you knew this was coming. This is a sort of spiritual successor to Shuckster, the fic I wrote last year for Katie's birthday, but you don't have to read it or anything. (Just saying it's way better than this one.) Anyway, this is just a bit of fun. No real plot, no real comedy, no real drama, no real substance, no real message, no real redeeming qualities unless you love that 50s aesthetic as much as we seem to. I mean... What's the point of fanfiction if it isn't to have fun?

(Side note, if yo've been wondering what I've been up to lately, you will be pleased to know that myself, Katiemonz, and Yamiii have started working on a Sonic Harry Potter AU. It's over on tumblr at sylvaniaschoolofmagic .tumblr .com (remove the spaces, as we have been doing for years. The link is also on my profile in full copy and paste glory.) Come check it out if you're curious!)

Dedicated to Katiemonz for the occasion of the anniversary of her birth. Happy birthday, Katie! Welcome to your 20s! (Make sure to tell your mother you're welcome!)

Disclaimer: Do we still do these? Do the kids know about these?

Let's go!

Knuckles is the definition of overworked college student. He's exhausted, stressed, and always convinced he's forgotten something. Add to that that his job, where he works far more hours than is legal, is quite possibly the most physically demanding job he's ever held, and he doesn't sleep much. In fact, he doesn't sleep at all.

It's not that he hates his job. He loves it. Sure the pink and blue stripes on the uniform are a bit much, especially coupled with the paper hat, but the owner is nice and fair, she pays well, and she looks the other way when he falls asleep during slow hours. It's just... The location. Not only does the Station Square Soda Fountain (clever naming by the owner) serve the whole city, it's right smack across the street from the local high school.

Which, of course, makes is disputed territory for the school factions.

The jocks generally control the place on Monday, Knuckles's day off, which is fine by him, because there's one particular jock that really gets his goat. He hates his stupid blue mug and that letter jacket—the jacket. He might as well have been born in it for how much he takes it off. Typical brainless track star.

Tuesday and Wednesday are contested. Knuckles usually has to break up at least two fights, often having to grab both leather and letter jackets in his fists to heft the offenders out the door where they proceed to brawl on the sidewalk until the fuzz comes and scares them off. The only reason he puts up with it is because they usually shell out for malts and fries, which usually keeps him busy. Plus, it keeps their mouths shut for a few minutes, and there's something inherently hilarious about watching the grease heads and the ball chasers glare at each other over candy cane straws and baskets of fried potatoes.

Thursday is a day of peace. The jocks are usually preparing for some football game and the greasers are doing who knows what. They don't fight; Knuckles gets to study in peace at the counter. It's a fragile balance, yes, but it's a good one. Half the time, Knuckles can't believe his luck when it happens. They even clear out at a decent time. The jocks have to get their beauty rest after all, and with no one to antagonize, the greasers file out to go fix a car or something. Knuckles gets to clean up and head out with barely an issue.

Friday though... Friday belongs to the greasers, and Knuckles hates them. Not only are they rude and messy, but they're also loiterers. They never leave. When there is no pending fight, no fragile, Switzerland peace, they make themselves at home, prop up their feet—literally. Knuckles has to constantly remind them to get their disgusting shoes off the tables by making rounds every five minutes and shoving them. They complain at him in typical fashion, but he ignores it.

He also has to pointedly ignore the leather jacket hanging up in the back of his closet when he gets home. He's in college now. There's no time for games anymore. He has a duty to his family after all.

Still, there's no fighting so he can't complain too much. Sometimes though, he just wants a day where everyone gets rid of the jackets and comes together as friends.

Today is not one of those days. It's Tuesday, which means World War III is on. And it's sad because the typical Tuesday follows a pattern. Knuckles has it memorized by this point.

The school bell rings. Children fall out of the doors like it's on fire. Some climb into their bent eights, burn rubber out of the parking lot, heading who knows where. Knuckles likes those kids. He doesn't know them or their names, but they stay out of his hair, so they're hep. Others hang out in the corral, waiting for the bus or stalling. Some come in, order something, eat it, and leave, which makes Knuckles want to kiss them.

Then, Sonic strolls in.

He's usually got that little, jetty nerd with him, the one who wouldn't really look like a nerd if he didn't carry around sixteen books. He's a bit small for high school, but Knuckles doesn't ask questions and Tails makes good conversation even if he keeps bad company so Knuckles lets him hang. Sometimes, he even keeps Sonic in check.

"Hey Knux!" Sonic calls as the bell jangles and Knuckles feels his good day fly right out the door before it can close completely. "Got any chilidogs today?"

"Never have, never will," Knuckles responds as he dries some glasses next to the cash register. He's trying to stay calm today. "Order something or put an egg in your shoe and beat it."

"Lemme see if I have some nuggets." Sonic pats his pockets, feeling for change, before coming up with a handful. "Yep, okay, I'll take some fries. You want anything Tails?"

The fox is fiddling with his schoolbag and he barely glances up. "Nah, I'm fine. Thank you though."

Sonic nods and looks back at Knuckles. The echidna is squinting at the fox critically and Sonics snaps his fingers in his face. "Hey man, you spacin'? I want some fries."

"Yeah, same price as always." Knuckles holds his hand out for the coins and Sonic drops them into his palm. He closes all but one of his fingers and points at Sonic. "No funny business, ya get me? Greasers walk in here and you just let 'em get and scatter. If I have to throw you out again..."

"Don't be a cube, man. I only fight if they do. Have this chat with Shadow next time."

"Shadow doesn't have a tab that needs paying." The door jangles and Knuckles glances over his shoulder. "Amy just walked in. She still your girl?"

"She never was," Sonic groans. "Who starts this—!"

"Don't get cranked, and move. I got people waiting."

Sonic sighs and rolls his eyes but scoots out of the way nonetheless. Amy, in her typical poodle skirt and ponytail, is already sitting at the table with Tails, laughing with him about something. Sonic pads over and drops into the chair next to Tails, very pointedly staying away from Amy. She bats her eyes at him and Knuckles looks away. There's some things that just need to stay secret.

The afternoon stays quiet for a few minutes. Knuckles delivers Sonic's fries and Tails thanks him and then elbows Sonic, who's staring at the ceiling, probably counting the ceiling tiles. Knuckles goes back to the counter and his cups, where there's order and proceeds to ignore Sonic for as long as possible. Two more jocks come in, accompanied by a girl, and the green one gives Sonic a glare so they must not get along. Knuckles smirks as he finishes with the glasses and moves to put them on another counter. Cryin' shame when two jocks can't get along. How ever will they continue their war with the greasers if there's in-fighting?

The birds order and move toward the back of the diner, where they sit quietly. Knuckles likes them and very pointedly ignores Sonic when he glares at him for treating them so nicely. The owner comes in at some point, drawing the eyes of all the teenaged boys in the room—except Sonic and Tails, the former staring at his fries and the latter reading one of those textbooks—and slides behind the counter easily. She pulls open the register and fingers the coins, counting them in a way that Knuckles can't quite figure out, even after watching her do it for almost a year.

"Football season is cookin' for business," she mutters as she finishes and scoops the quarters out. "You be nice to these jocks now, Knuckles."

Her voice is smooth and low, so only he can hear, and she pats his face. Her little wings flutter a bit in excitement now that she's got the money, and her dress swishes around her calves as she turns to look at the state of the counter.

"I'm nothing but nice, Rouge," he grumbles back, wincing when she rubs a finger across the bar top. It comes up clean, thank goodness.

"Mm," she hums. "Then I'll leave you to it. If anything happens, get on the horn and call me, all right? I don't want a repeat of last time."

He nods and she moves to head back out, but the bell jangles again and Knuckles casts a glance toward as is his habit. What he sees makes him freeze.

It's too early for a grease ball to walk in—they usually agitate the gravel and ride around town before stopping by—but there he is, with his slicked back nest and what looks to be a toothpick in his mouth. Knuckles sees Sonic's head look up and he holds an arm out to stop Rouge from walking right into what has now became a battlefield.

Shadow, at least that's what Knuckles thinks is the greaser's name, spots Sonic immediately. It's hard not to considering Sonic's blue fur and that jacket, but it's also ridiculous how fast they key in on each other. Knuckles makes a mental note to ask Tails what the beef is between them.

The temperature drops a few degrees as they take each other in. Sonic rises from his seat, ignoring both Tails and Amy's warnings not to, and they stalk toward each other. Rouge makes a noise that could be interested or worried; Knuckles isn't sure.

"Shadow," the jock mutters, shoving his hands into his pockets, "I thought we agreed you wouldn't come in here today."

Shadow scoffs. "You think a shuckster like you can scare me? You're just lucky I came here alone."

It is a bit strange to see a greaser on his own, Knuckles reflects. Back in his time, he always rolled around with at least one other person. This must be personal.

"Oh, drop dead twice," Sonic grunts, throwing his hands up.

"What, and look like you?" Shadow tosses back, as is customary.

Sonic's hands tighten, even at that meaningless barb. "I didn't say anything about Maria," the jock pronounces carefully.

Shadow takes a very deliberate breath and bites down on his own fist. "Watch it, Sonic," he hisses. "You're crusin' for a bruisin'."

Sonic scoffs and crosses his arms. "Who's gonna clobber me, you?"

The next few seconds slow down as Shadow finally does it. He takes the hand shoved into his mouth and punches Sonic in the face, sending the hedgehog flying back toward the table. The room goes silent as Sonic groans from the floor.

"Who's Maria?" Rouge breathes beside Knuckles, startling him because he forgot she was there.

"Shadow's best friend," a young, familiar voice says from near Knuckles's elbow. The echidna looks and there's Tails, leaning backwards against the counter, cross-armed, watching Sonic and Shadow.

"She a greaser?" Rouge asks, ignoring the commotion of Amy fussing over Sonic.

"No," Tails clips, pushing off the counter and moving to stop Amy as she rounds on Shadow, fists raised. He easily slides between her and the black hedgehog, hands raised, ever the peaceful mediator.

Amy huffs but gives up the fight and helps Sonic to his feet. He shrugs her off and looks at Shadow, stares him right in the face as his split lip bleeds a bit onto his chin. "You satisfied? Got your revenge?"

Shadow doesn't say anything, only crosses his arms and turns away so he's looking toward the counter and not at Sonic.

"Okay," the blue hedgehog pronounces, nodding, "okay." He takes a step to the right so he can get around his opponent and heads toward the door. He limps, ankle rolled in the scuffle, and it takes him far too long to get to the door, especially for Sonic. The bell twinkles as he goes, Amy following closely, trying to help him walk even as he refuses.

Tails hangs back, staring at Shadow critically, before he mumbles, "He really didn't say anything about Maria. She was his friend too, you know."

Shadow tenses. Tails, heedless of any danger, simple gathers his books, pushes in the chairs, glances toward Knuckles, nods, and leaves.

Knuckles sighs because that's just one more mess he'll have to clean up. Sonic's fall brought him right on top of the table and there are fries thrown everywhere, not to mention the ketchup. He shakes his head and reaches toward the counter to grab his rag.

Rouge stops him by putting an arm on his shoulder. "You better let this one sit," she advises, nodding toward the table. Knuckles cranes around and there's Shadow, sinking into Sonic's old seat, staring at the mess, expression far away.

Knuckles groans and throws up his hands. "Fine, fine. But when this place starts to smell like ketchup, it's not my fault."

She chuckles and moves around him to leave. As she lifts the small, hinged piece of counter, she pauses. "I don't know what's going on, but you let that one stew as long as he needs to. High school is tough."

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbles, crossing his arms and thinking about the fight he'll have with the caked on ketchup later. "He can stay until closing if he wants. I don't care."

She steps into the diner proper and lets the counter slam down behind her. "Yes you do. Sometimes, I think you miss high school. You're so invested in these kids. I think you need something to look after."

He grumbles but doesn't say anything. Rouge grins and tosses a wave over her shoulder, coins clacking as she goes. "Later, Knux. I'll be back to lock up."

It comes eventually like all creeping epiphanies, slowly and then all at once. The day went back to normal after that. A few nondescript kids came in, ordered, sat down, ate, made a bit of a ruckus, and left. The jukebox is crooning low and slow in the corner and Knuckles is drying dishes, hands puckered from the hot water, watching the diner with a furrowed brow. Something is off here and he can't quite figure it out. Sure, everything is in the right place and it's a quiet evening but something...

A chair squeals and Knuckles whips around, fists raised, old instincts perking up like a well-trained dog. Then he sees Shadow, standing finally from his seat, still looking at the lacquered tabletop. He breathes out through his teeth and looks up at Knuckles. The echidna feels his hands drop to rest at his sides and Shadow inclines his head—not quite a nod, but close enough—before sweeping around and leaving. Knuckles blinks after him, and feels the niggle at the back of his head turn into a headache.

It isn't until he realizes that the three birds are still sitting in the back of the diner that everything clicks into place. The green one, the clear leader, is gazing after Shadow with a smirk on his face and his friends reach out and high five him. Once the hedgehog is out of the diner, they turn back to their little huddle and begin whispering with excitement.

Knuckles feels everything in his body tighten, from his fists to his spine to his eyes and he nearly cracks the plate he's holding in his anger. He very carefully places it down and takes a few steadying breaths.

Those three clearly have something to do with Sonic and Shadow's beef, but the reason is beyond Knuckles. Why would those two letter jackets want to start a fight between a fellow jock and a greaser...? What could there be to gain...

The birds rise and look to the door. Knuckles feels everything freeze. This is his only chance to do something. The diner is empty and if he wants to know what's going on, he'll have to act now.

But, should he?

Knuckles has never been one for thinking, so he quickly decides that yes, he should. Action has always been his go-to and if he's going to do anything to help these kids—these kids that he's grown so fond of even as they annoy the heck of out him—he's going to do it, damnit.

"What'cha up to, kids?" he asks as he slides in front of the door, crossing his arms. His hat is a bit skewed and drooping into his eyes but he ignores it in favor of scowling at them.

"Move, old man," the green one sneers, trying to push past Knuckles. Too bad for him—the echidna is a rock at the best of times, a mountain at the worst. When he realizes that he won't be getting past, he falls back to stand amongst his friends, face contorted in anger and turning a puce color, like he's never been stood up to before. "You can't keep us here!" he cries and... Did he stomp his foot?

Oh, this is rich.

"You been sitting in my diner like a bunch of oddballs. Don't think I didn't notice you making eyes at Shadow as he left. What's your damage?"

"Play dead Storm," the leader commands when the giant gray one opens his mouth to reply. "None of your business, punk!" he cries, voice cracking a tad. Oh, so this kid is barely a sophomore, maybe a freshman. Small potatoes compared to Sonic and Shadow.

"Been starting rumors about Sonic, huh?" Knuckles puts it together right then and it all swooshes into his head, the whole situation playing out like a movie. He leans back against the wall, still blocking the door. "Hoping he and Shadow get into a fight? Why?"

The girl mutters something, something that gets lost after the initial concerned, "Jet..." so at least Knuckles has a name for this jerk. Jet doesn't reply, merely crosses his arms and glares at Knuckles.

"You have to let us leave eventually."

"No," Knuckles decides, "I don't."

"What? Yes, you do!"

"You caused a fight in the diner. I should call the police."

"You don't have any proof!"

"Sure I do. Everyone saw your little pow-wow at the back of the room. Sonic especially saw you and I know he'd love to get his hands on you..."

Jet's mouth snaps closed and Knuckles can't believe that he believed his bluff. Sonic wouldn't hurt a fly, but apparently his reputation got away from him and developed some teeth. He wonders if that has something to do with Shadow.

"So, clue me in. What's this about?"

Jet chews on his lip and sighs. Well, at least he gave up easily. "Didn't you see? Shadow hurt his ankle. Now he can't run tomorrow."

"Tomorrow's the football game. Sonic doesn't play football."

"Duh, Sonic doesn't play football. Tomorrow's the race after school. I challenged him because I'm faster than him and I'm tired of him! He thinks he's the fastest thing alive... Well, I'll show him! Can't run if he's got a limp, can he?!"

Knuckles doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. "You clearly haven't met Sonic..." He puts his hands on his fists. "Okay, this is stupid. Luckily, only Sonic got hurt and he needed a little fear beat into him. Still," he levels a finger at them, "you need to find a place to belong real quick. You try this again and the jocks and greasers find out? They'll get you. It's my understanding that both groups loved Maria."

Jet pales, as if that very thing had never occurred to him. What a nosebleed. "Why do you even care?" he wails, as if Knuckles just threatened to tell Sonic and Shadow himself. He's no snitch, but he's sorely tempted.

"Because," he rumbles as he moves aside to let them leave, "everyone's got to belong to someone, even me. Now, get out, and I don't want to see you in here for at least six months."

Jet nods and scurries out into the cool evening, his friends following him. Knuckles watches them go, breath fogging up the glass, and shakes his head. And here he thought he was free from all that high school crap.

Once a greaser, always a greaser.

Reviews are cherished.