1. Chapter 1 (2/2)

the bat is struck by the seriousness in the hedgehog's tone, this time.

"you'd be the one to do it. and i wonder… how he'd react to that. would he be flattered? afraid? would he think it absurd? do you know?"

"actually, no, honey, i don't."

"i wonder, would he say yes?"

"he'd be a fool to agree. i'd make an awful wife."

"i don't think so. you'd be fun and demanding and generous. difficult, but worthy."

"so, not entirely awful, then."

"and i think shadow would be a good husband, truly, i do. even if he'd sometimes struggle and make mistakes, just like you, just like me."

"but i get along with him fine without marrying the man. and let me tell you, living with him isn't always easy. as much as i enjoy having him around, all to myself, on most days."

"still. i wonder. like, you've got the foundations and your bond is strong. you could build something new and exciting, on top of what was already there. add to what you've made, together."

"maybe. i like things as they are, though."

"but imagine it. if you find the courage inside to ask, to take that chance…"

rouge stares at the schematics and she understands them, but she isn't processing anything but amy's voice, still quiet, eerily som

e.

"i mean, if it ever happens… i wonder…"

"hon?"

"will you be able to face the possibility that… he might say no?"

the schematics are slowly lowered by large, feminine hands, eyes rising in their place, lingering on the pink quills.

"do you mind, my asking?"

"no."

"how would you feel, if after all that, he said no?"

"it'd

eak my heart."

the hedgehog turns back to give the bat an intense look from over her shoulder.

"but why the question?"

"i dunno."

"you were so certain, before."

it's easy to get distracted. amy can be forgiven for staring, for forgetting her voice.

rouge has a handsome smile when it's sincere and gentle, like this. "it was a matter of when, not if." her smile drains away some of the coldness from her eyes, rendering them not quite as hard and sharp as cut diamonds. "remember?"

"oh."

"that's what you said. i'll eventually grow a pair and ask that guy to marry me, then hope he says yes. and if he says no, my heart will

eak. when i'm old, maybe that'll be the thing that does me in."

"don't say that."

despite the jest, snowy

ows gorgeously set into a frown of mild-mannered, wise concern.

"have hope, okay?"

"and you?"

"me?"

"you're still hopeful, hon, aren't you?"

"yeah. yeah, i'm holding onto it."

"does that help?"

"sometimes, i think i'm actually hopeless and deluding myself, like some people have told me. i wonder if maybe they're right and then i imagine i'm some sort of pervert."

the bat's eyes follow as the pink hedgehog approaches slowly.

"i'd propose, if i only could reassure myself enough that he won't crush me."

"blue's a good guy, hon. if you do get a ring and kneel, he won't do anything deliberately hurtful. but it's his choice, too."

"i know. it's why i'm in love with him. it's why i'm hopeless. he comes and he goes and sometimes he leaves without me, leaves me behind, waiting. i can't always keep up, though i've gotten faster, haven't i?"

"you've really overthought this, honey."

"i've lost a lot of sleep over the years. i'm not sorry, though. just don't mean any harm. see?"

rouge doesn't know what to say, so she awkwardly straightens herself and unfurls a wing, instead, which amy gratefully slips beneath.

"mmm."

the bat doesn't resist the hedgehog's resting head.

"warm," amy says softly. "you're very warm."

"warmer than i look."

"sorry."

"don't be. no harm done."

"still."

"no more apologies."

"you're being awfully nice to me, right now, you know."

"i have my moments. there's not much practical use in fretting about future maybes and what-ifs and i don't wanna hear any more apologies. m'kay."

"heh." amy wishes that they had become this close, sooner, when rouge lightly

ushes their cheeks together in a nuzzle, something pure, genuine, comforting. "okay."