The sun hung low in the sky, casting golden hues over the quiet park where Sonic sat beside Lilly on a wooden bench. The distant laughter of children playing filled the space between them, and Sonic found himself lost in thought.
Lately, the idea of parenthood had consumed him. He had talked about it with Shadow countless times, imagining what it would be like to raise a child together. But Shadow’s hesitation left him questioning himself more than ever.
His mother must have sensed his unease because she gave him a knowing smile. “You’ve been thinking about it a lot, haven’t you?”
Sonic sighed, rubbing the back of his head. “Yeah… I guess I have.”
She chuckled softly. “You’ve always had a big heart, sweetheart. You care about people more than you realize.”
Sonic glanced at her, his ears twitching slightly. “But what if I mess it up? What if I’m not cut out for it?”
Lilly shook her head, placing a hand on his arm. “No one ever really knows if they’re ready. It’s not something you plan perfectly—it’s something you feel.”
He frowned. “Feel?”
She nodded. “You’ll know when you’re ready, Sonic. Sometimes, it just happens—you start feeling it before you even realize what’s going on.”
She smiled warmly, her gaze distant. “When I first found you, I didn’t know what I was doing. I was scared, wondering if I’d be able to protect you, if I’d be able to give you the life you deserved. But then, one day, I just knew. I felt it in my heart, in my bones. I didn’t have to think about it—I just became a mother.”
Sonic swallowed, his chest tightening.
His mother squeezed his arm reassuringly. “And when that feeling comes, you won’t be able to stop it. You’ll just know.”
Sonic looked away, his thoughts swirling.
Had that feeling already started?
Was that why he had been acting so strangely lately, without even realizing it?
The idea unsettled him.
He wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to be fast, reckless, always chasing the next adventure.
But lately… something had changed.
-------------
It had been nearly two years since Sonic and Shadow had started living together. Their home had become a space of shared victories, quiet moments, and the occasional heated debate. Over time, discussions of the future had woven themselves into their daily lives—talks of marriage, settling down, and, most notably, adopting a child.
Sonic had always been open about his excitement at the prospect of fatherhood, painting vivid pictures of what their life could look like. But Shadow was more cautious, weighed down by concerns Sonic often brushed aside. Eggman’s attacks had grown more frequent, and Shadow feared bringing a child into their lives would put them in danger.
Whenever the topic arose, Shadow feigned excitement but never let the conversation end without reminding Sonic of the risks. The arguments that followed were inevitable. Sonic accused Shadow of not believing in their ability to raise a child. Shadow insisted it wasn’t about desire—it was about timing. He wasn’t ready. Not yet.
One particular argument had left Shadow feeling more guilty than usual. He hated the way Sonic’s ears had drooped, the way his usual spark had dimmed. He wanted to make it up to him, to reassure him that his hesitation wasn’t rejection.
But lately, Sonic had been acting strangely.
At first, Shadow chalked it up to exhaustion. Maybe Sonic had been pushing himself too hard. But then came the rocking chair. The knitting. The belly rubbing. The mood swings.
Shadow had seen Sonic frustrated before—angry, impatient, reckless—but this was different. One moment, Sonic would be laughing at something trivial, the next, he’d snap at Shadow over something as small as misplacing the TV remote.
And the worst part? Sonic refused to talk about it.
Shadow had tried. He had asked, subtly at first, then more directly. But Sonic always brushed him off, always had an excuse.
Tonight, Shadow wasn’t going to let it slide.
He found Sonic curled up in the rocking chair again, absentmindedly rubbing his belly, his knitting needles clicking together as he worked on another tiny pair of booties.
Shadow crossed his arms, leaning against the doorway. “You’re not going to tell me what’s going on, are you?”
Sonic barely glanced up. “Told you already, Shads. Just bored.”
Shadow narrowed his eyes. “Bored? You’re knitting baby booties, Sonic.”
Sonic shrugged, but Shadow didn’t miss the way his grip tightened on the needles.
“And the belly rubbing?” Shadow pressed. “The back pain? The mood swings? You’re not running as much as usual. You’re exhausted all the time.”
Sonic’s ears twitched, and for a brief moment, Shadow saw something flicker in his expression—hesitation, maybe even fear. But then, Sonic forced a grin, leaning back in the chair.
“Guess I’m just getting old,” he joked, though his voice lacked its usual confidence.
Shadow wasn’t buying it.
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Sonic. Whatever’s going on, you can tell me.”
Sonic’s grip on the knitting needles tightened further, his gaze locked on the half-finished bootie in his hands.
“I’m fine, Shadow,” he said, but the words felt hollow.
Shadow exhaled sharply, frustrated but unwilling to push too hard. He knew Sonic—knew that if he pressed too much, the blue blur would only retreat further.
But something was wrong.
Shadow had always been patient when it came to Sonic’s stubbornness. He knew when to push and when to let things go. But this—this was different. Sonic wasn’t just being difficult. He was hiding something.
And Shadow was tired of pretending not to notice.
The tension had been building for days, each unanswered question adding to the weight pressing down on Shadow’s chest. He had tried to be gentle, tried to coax the truth out of Sonic without forcing it—but Sonic refused to budge.
Tonight, Shadow wasn’t going to let it slide.
“Sonic,” Shadow said, his voice sharper than before. “Enough.”
Sonic flinched slightly but kept his eyes locked on the knitting in his hands.
Shadow stepped forward, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “I’ve asked you over and over again what’s going on, and every time, you brush me off like I’m some idiot who can’t see what’s right in front of him.” His voice grew harsher, frustration bubbling to the surface. “Do you not trust me?”
Sonic’s hands froze mid-stitch.
Shadow’s breath was heavy, his crimson eyes burning with something dangerously close to hurt. “Because that’s what it feels like, Sonic. Like you don’t trust me enough to tell me the truth.”
Sonic’s grip on the needles trembled. His ears flattened against his head, and his shoulders curled inward, as if trying to make himself smaller.
Shadow’s frustration faltered.
“Sonic…”
And then, without warning, Sonic broke.
His hands dropped the knitting, his body shaking as he sucked in a sharp breath. Tears welled in his eyes, spilling over before he could stop them. He pressed his palms against his face, his breath hitching in uneven gasps.
Shadow’s frustration vanished instantly.
“Sonic—”
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me!” Sonic’s voice cracked, raw and desperate. “I just—” He hiccupped, curling further into himself. “I feel… motherly. I don't know if it's because I've only been raised by my mom my whole life, or something else entirely.”
Shadow blinked.
Sonic let out a choked laugh, shaking his head as if disgusted with himself. “It’s stupid, isn’t it? I can’t stop it—I don’t know why it’s happening, but I just—”
He gestured weakly to the booties, to the rocking chair, to himself. “I feel like I should be taking care of something. Like I need to be preparing for something. And it’s embarrassing, Shadow. I don’t know how to make it stop.”
Shadow stared, his mind racing to process Sonic’s words.
Motherly.
Not fatherly. Not just excited about the idea of a child.
Something deeper. Something instinctual.
Sonic sniffled, rubbing at his eyes furiously, his breath still uneven. “I don’t know if it’s because I’ve only been raised by my mom my whole life, or something else entirely,” he admitted, voice trembling. “But I can’t stop it. I feel like I should be taking care of something, like I need to be preparing for something. And it’s embarrassing, Shadow. I don’t know how to make it stop.”
Shadow’s frustration melted away, replaced by something softer—understanding.
He lowered himself onto the armrest of the rocking chair, his voice gentler now. “Sonic… why would you be embarrassed?”
Sonic let out a weak, choked laugh, shaking his head. “Because it’s weird! I’m supposed to be the fast one, the reckless one, the hero. Not—” He gestured helplessly at himself. “Not this.”
Shadow exhaled, his crimson eyes steady as he reached out, resting a hand on Sonic’s arm. “You’re still you, Sonic. Whatever this is, it doesn’t change that.”
Sonic hesitated, his breath still uneven, but he didn’t pull away.
Shadow squeezed gently. “And you do trust me. You just didn’t know how to say it.”
Sonic swallowed hard, looking up at Shadow with watery eyes.
And for the first time in days, he didn’t feel so alone.
Shadow let out a quiet sigh, his grip steady. “You don’t have to fight this feeling, Sonic. Maybe it’s just something you need to experience. And whatever it is, I’ll be here.”
Sonic’s lip trembled, and he let out a shaky breath. “You mean that?”
Shadow nodded. “Of course I do.”
Sonic sniffled again, wiping at his face. “I don’t know what’s happening to me, Shads.”
Shadow gave a small, reassuring squeeze to Sonic’s arm. His voice was steady, warm. “You’re becoming a mother, Sonic.”
Sonic blinked, his breath hitching. “But… I’m not supposed to—”
Shadow shook his head. “It doesn’t matter that you’re male. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” He glanced at the tiny booties in Sonic’s lap, then back at the blue blur himself. “Honestly? It’s kind of cute.”
Sonic let out a shaky laugh, his ears twitching as his face flushed. “You really think so?”
Shadow smirked slightly. “Yeah. I do.”
Sonic hesitated for only a second before leaning forward, wrapping his arms around Shadow in a tight hug. Shadow stiffened at first, but quickly relaxed, letting his own arms settle around Sonic’s back.
Sonic buried his face against Shadow’s shoulder, his breath still uneven but calmer now. “Thanks, Shads…”
Shadow hummed quietly, resting his chin atop Sonic’s head. “Anytime.”
Sonic pulled back just enough to look up at him, his emerald eyes still glossy with lingering emotion. Then, with a soft, grateful smile, he leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to Shadow’s lips.
Shadow didn’t pull away.
Instead, he let himself melt into the moment, into the quiet understanding between them.
Whatever was happening to Sonic, whatever this feeling was—Shadow would be there.
No matter what.
