Chrome-tinted Troubles

chrome-tinted troubles

1k words | no warnings apply | team chaotix week 2025

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65232502

Charmy was sniffling.

Espio wasn't sure he heard it, at first. The first sniffle coincided with the flip of a page of his book–illuminated by a small reading lamp, cradled in his lap in bed. At the next two, he thought perhaps he was just clearing his sinuses. By the fourth sniffle, however, he figured something was wrong.

Soundlessly, Espio crawled out of bed, climbing partway down the wall to examine the small shape of Charmy, bundled in blankets and shaking in his bed.

He was crying.

"Charmy?" Espio whispered. Charmy made a small noise, and Espio watched as he wrapped himself tighter in his blankets. "Charmy, what's wrong?"

"Go 'way," Charmy mumbled, his voice muffled and tiny beneath all the fabric bundled around him.

"Should I get Vector?"

"No," he sniffed again. "Go 'way, Espio."

"Something is troubling you, Charmy. I want to help."

"I dun want help."

Espio dropped soundlessly to the floor, walking over to Charmy’s bedside and looming over the little bee.

“Would you rather talk to me about it?”

“No. Go ‘way.”

Sighing inwardly, Espio grabbed at Charmy’s blankets, and unintentionally began a tug-of-war–Charmy’s tiny hands thrashing desperately to keep himself tucked haphazardly in the material. Espio, of course, was stronger and faster, and he pulled the bee free of his self-imposed cotton prison before he could even put together a coherent complaint.

“Hey!”

“Charmy,” Espio scolded, re-draping the blanket to cover only the bee's shoulders–carefully avoiding smashing his wings. His face was smeared with tears and snot. “You’re going to talk to me, or you’re going to talk to Vector. There’s no way out of it.”

“I’ll do it in the morning,” Charmy grumbled, pulling the blanket over his head. Espio pushed it back onto his shoulders.

“No. You’re just going to pretend it didn’t happen. Or, worse, you’ll actually forget.” He pulled a tissue from the nightstand, littered with toys and short children’s books, and dabbed at Charmy’s face. “Now, what’s going on? Did something happen? Did someone say something to you?”

Charmy sniffled. “Dunno.”

“Charmy.”

He grumbled something unintelligible, his cheeks squishing as Espio wiped at the snot around his nose.

“Charmy.”

“I had a bad dream.”

Espio threw the tissue into the garbage can. “Oh?”

“Mhm.”

“About what?”

Charmy looked away, fingers twisting the corner of the blanket. Espio kneeled in front of his bed, his eye contact patient, but pressing.

“...I had a bad dream ‘bout the metal virus,” Charmy mumbled, antennae drooping.

“I see. What happened in your dream, Charmy?”

“Uhm… Well… I was a zombot again, and… ‘N I was with you ‘n Vector…” He took a deep breath. “Espio, do y’still like me?”

Espio blinked slowly, caught off-guard by the question (and, admittedly, still somewhat drowsy from the late-night reading). “Of course I like you. Why would you ask such a thing?”

“Because, because, in my dream… You ‘n Vector said…” Tears welled up in his eyes, his voice shaking. “Y’said I was… Y’said I was dumb, and Vector said I was annoying,” he cried, wiping at his face roughly with the heels of his palms.

“Charmy…” Espio started, frowning. “Charmy, I don’t think that about you. That was just a dream, it’s not real.”

“Y-yeah, but it’s all my fault I got turned into a zombot in the first place, ‘n– ‘N I heard Gemerl say it was my fault Vector got turned into one, too.”

“Absolutely not. You were just trying to do what you thought was right. Anyone would understand.”

“But ‘ts still my fault!” Charmy exclaimed, his tears flowing more freely, overflowing in his little hands and rolling down his forearms. “I shoulda stayed with you ‘n Vector! I shoulda gone on the ship!”

“Charmy…"

“But I didn’t, ‘n then I got turned into a zombot, and then I turned Vector into a zombot, ‘n it’s all my fault! And everyone thinks I’m dumb and annoying and I–”

Charmy’s sentence fell short as a pair of scaled hands wrapped around his own–bringing them off of his face, before wiping at his eyes.

“Don’t say that about yourself, Charmy,” Espio scolded quietly, using his fingers to clean the tears from the bee’s cheeks with a stern expression. “You aren’t annoying. And you certainly aren’t dumb. You were simply unprepared. Everyone was.”

“But I–”

“There’s no ‘buts’ about it. You were very brave, looking out for that person. You did the right thing, just at the wrong time. You have a good heart. Do you know that?” Charmy shrugged. “And I still like you, you know,” Espio finished, smiling softly. “You’re my favorite coworker.”

The bee’s eyes widened. “Not Vector?”

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” he whispered, laughing. Charmy smiled.

“I think I feel better, now,” the bee whispered back, plopping back down on his bed, and bundling back up in his blankets. “Thanks, Espio.”

“Of course.” Espio got to his feet, and started walking back towards the wall. “Goodnight, Charmy. Sleep well.”

“Wait. Espio?”

He paused. “Yes, Charmy?”

“Will y’give me a hug?”

Espio turned to stare at the little bee for a moment–he looked almost impossibly small wrapped in his blankets, his face still damp with tears, eyes tired and so terribly, heart-wrenchingly sad for his age.

Wordlessly, the chameleon made his way back to the bed, and knelt down in front of it. Awkwardly, he wrapped his arms around Charmy’s torso; a pair of tiny hands returning the gesture. He felt Charmy’s breaths against his neck, still shaky from the recent crying, felt his little wings flutter behind him lazily.

“Didja mean that, Espio?” Charmy asked suddenly, his voice small.

“I mean everything I say,” Espio replied seriously.

“Yeah, but, when y’said you still like me? Didja really mean it?”

“I did. I like you lots, Charmy Bee. You’re the smartest, bravest, coolest kid I know.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Little hands finally relinquished their grip on him, and Espio pulled back. Charmy’s face was brighter, the sadness somewhat subdued in his eyes. Espio smiled at him.

“I promise,” he said, nodding slowly. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“I know.”

“Goodnight, Charmy.”

Charmy huffed out a deep sigh, burying himself in his blankets, and shutting his eyes.

“Goodnight, Espio.”