Look Back At Me

“I dunno,” you hesitated, gnawing on your lower lip as you eyed the small plant. It really was so cute and would be the perfect pop of color on your new entryway table, but… “I’m so terrible with plants,” you confessed, your guilty gaze flickering up to the man who ran the plant and flower booth. 

His smile was soft–his bright blue eyes twinkling in amusement–as he ducked his head to meet your gaze more fully. “I promise this plant is practically unkillable. And I can give you a little card with easy, detailed instructions to help you care for it.”

You sighed, your fingers gently touching the healthy, vibrant leaves of the plant. It really was calling to you for some reason. “Okay…” your eyes caught the man’s, and you frowned playfully. “But if I kill this thing, its blood is on your hands.”

He laughed, and it lit up his entire face, which only grew more handsome in his delight. You felt your belly swoop at the sight, at the way he was watching you with a spark of interest you hadn’t had directed your way in a long time.

“I’m Cole, Turner,” he introduced himself, holding out his big, rough hand for a shake. 

You didn’t hesitate to slip your hand into his, noticing the way he cradled it more than shook it, the way his touch lingered longer than necessary. 

“And I’d happily get blood on my hands for you,” he grinned, then froze, his eyes going wide as he registered his own words. 

There was a beat of silence as you both stared at each other, and then Cole grimaced as he let your hand slip from his. 

“Sorry, that sounded more suave and less serial killer-y in my head,” he cringed, broad shoulders hiking up to his ears.

You laughed, utterly charmed by this sweet, handsome stranger. “Noted,” you murmured in amusement, watching the way Cole’s cheeks glowed pink as he started to gently package your plant for the car ride home. 

You took a shaky breath as you hugged yourself tightly, feeling a chill dance along your spine as you thought of Cole, of the fact that you had been genuinely interested in him, and so happy he seemed to feel the same way. 

You glanced over at Steve to find him watching you with this look of sympathetic concern. His eyes were so soft and earnest as they met yours, that you had to remind yourself that he was a robot and not an actual person.

“You couldn’t have known the way things would turn out,” he assured you. 

“No,” you shook your head slowly. “I really couldn’t have. Cole was so lovely at first. Always had new plants set aside for me at the market, always checking in on the ones I had previously bought. It only took a few visits before he asked me out, and I was happy about it,” your voice broke as tears began to flood your vision. “I had no idea what I was getting myself into…”

The longer you sat across the dinner table from Cole, the more uneasy you grew.  There was this intensity to him tonight, an almost manic gleam in his eyes as he leaned in close and rambled about finally settling down, how relieved his parents would be, how he couldn’t wait to have children, how the farm was the perfect place to raise a family…

“Wow,” you couldn’t help but blurt, laughing uncomfortably as you glanced away. “You really know what you want, huh?”

“I do,” Cole hummed, and when your gaze hesitantly returned to him, it was to find him watching you in this way that made all of your hair stand on end. 

In that moment, as a chill skittered its way up your spine, you felt like prey, and it was nowhere near as sexy as the dark romances you read made it out to be.

Instead of thrilled or flattered, you felt sick. You felt dread the longer Cole stared at you, and disappointment, too, because you had been so excited for this date. 

“So, how many kids do you want?” Cole asked, reaching for his wine glass and taking a drink. 

“Well,” you laughed awkwardly, fiddling with the napkin spread across your lap. “I never actually said I wanted kids, so…”

“Oh you were definitely meant to be a mother,” Cole scoffed, a knowing smile tilting his lips as his eyes slowly trailed over you, making your skin crawl. “I can already see it now. One baby perched on your hip and another growing in your belly. You’d be so beautiful pregnant, glowing.”

This time, you were the one reaching for your wine glass, taking a deep gulp as you discreetly glanced at your watch, praying for dinner to be served so you could get the hell out of here. 

Once you were finally home a couple of hours later, you still felt icky at the way Cole had tried to kiss you goodnight and seemed very disappointed when you’d evaded him and gone in for a quick, fleeting hug instead. 

You waited a while, until you were sure he was home, before texting him to thank him for dinner but also let him know that it wasn’t going to work between the two of you. 

The deluge was instant. 

One text after another flooding the chat thread you had with Cole. Asking why. Refuting your shutdown. Telling you he knew the two of you were meant to be together. That he had never felt this way about anyone.

Then he tried to call you. Repeatedly. Your phone blew up until you finally blocked him with trembling fingers, feeling beyond anxious and strangely scared before turning your phone off entirely and trying to wind down for bed. 

“I thought that would be the end of it, you know?” you whispered, gaze distant and fixed on the fireplace as you twisted your fingers in your lap. “I didn’t dare return to the farmer’s market, I avoided it instead. But it only took a couple of weeks before it started to feel like I was being watched any time I left my home. Then Cole confirmed my suspicions by cornering me one day after work…and I never told him what I did or where I worked…”

“Cole?!” your voice was pitched high–unnaturally so–your panic bleeding into your tone as Cole pressed you up against the driver’s side door of your car. “What…how…”

“You can’t just avoid me forever!” he huffed, gripping your shoulders hard enough to bruise and make you squeak in pain. “Sorry,” he relented his harsh touch immediately, but kept his hands on you, his fingers petting instead of gripping now as you squirmed and tried to recoil. “Look, I just… I can’t stop thinking about you, and I just know if you gave me another chance–”

“Cole, you’re at my work right now,” you said firmly despite your voice shaking, despite your terror. “How did you even know where to find me?”

He looked away, jaw clenched as he remained silent. 

“Please, you need to go,” you trembled. 

“No!” he shook his head, eyes blazing as they returned to you. He took a breath, deflating a little at the look of sheer terror on your face. “Please, sweetheart, I’m sorry for scaring you, I just… I need you.”

“We hardly know each other.” 

“When you know, you know, and I know, with everything inside of me, that you’re it for me. You’re all I want, please…”

You squealed and jerked away as Cole leaned in and tried to kiss you. 

It was instant the way his eyes flashed with displeasure, with malice. 

“Don’t do that,” he snarled, his fingers digging into your arms as he shoved you back against your car with enough force to make you whimper. He opened his mouth again, but before he could speak, one of your colleagues was calling your name from across the parking lot, sounding concerned. 

It was enough to have Cole cursing under his breath before turning on his heel and racing from the parking lot, leaving you weak from fear as your coworker rushed over and asked if you wanted them to call the police.

“But I didn’t want to get Cole in trouble, I didn’t want to make this a big thing, you know?” You sniffled, batting away a stray tear. “I just wanted him to leave me alone.”

“But he didn’t?” Steve guessed, a tic popping in his jaw as you slowly shook your head. 

Curling into the corner of the sofa, you whispered, “No, he didn’t…” 

You weren’t sure what woke you up, but you startled awake nonetheless, feeling the furthest thing from well rested, as your sleep quality had deteriorated over the past few months due to everything happening with Cole.

Just as you thought his name, you realized that he was standing over you.

That it wasn’t just another nightmare or night terror, that Cole Turner was in your bedroom right now–naked, his bare chest heaving as he stroked his cock slowly and shushed your terrified whimper. 

“Shhh, don’t scream–” he started as you opened your mouth to do just that. He cursed, lunging at you, pressing the hand he had been using to touch himself over your mouth to muffle your cry for help. 

You struggled wildly beneath him, something about feeling the weight and warmth of him–his bare skin, his wiry chest hair–it made you feel sick, but it also made you feel angry.

So you slapped at him, clawed at him, continuing to shriek against his damp palm as he tried to subdue you. 

“Shh shh shh, it’s okay! Baby, please, just let me show you how good we can be together,” he groaned as all your writhing and twisting had his hard cock getting trapped against the blankets bunched at your stomach. “Fuck, I know you’re gonna feel so good, cause you were made for me–” 

Cole’s words morphed into a pained cry as you bit his palm hard enough to draw blood, hard enough to have him jerking away from you as he cradled his hand and stared at you with wide eyes. 

Then you opened your mouth and screamed for all you were worth. 

You didn’t stop screaming when Cole scrambled out of the bedroom window he had left open, and onto the fire escape. You didn’t stop screaming when your neighbor pounded on your front door asking if you were okay, or when you heard the police sirens in the distance growing closer. 

You didn’t stop screaming until your voice finally gave out. You sank back against your headboard, sobbing and shaking, feeling like you were going to be sick as adrenaline surged through your body, mixing with the fear and disgust rioting within your very bones.

“But they didn’t believe me, the cops,” you explained. “Not when it was all said and done.” 

At the sound of displeasure–of offense–that Steve made, your tear-filled eyes finally focused and returned to him.

“Cole’s parents gave him a fake alibi, and the cops boiled it down to it was dark and I was hysterical because I’d been stressed and suffering from insomnia. They had no proof, it was my word against his, and…” you shrugged, more tears spilling over as you whispered, “They did nothing. So I moved here and left everything behind–my whole life, my career, my friends and family. Everything.”

You shook your head in disbelief that this was now your life–your unwanted reality.  

“What else was I supposed to do? I knew he wouldn’t stop. He won’t stop,” your face crumpled as you dropped your head into your hands, feeling panic rise within you as you thought of Cole, of how relentless he had been, of the fact that he was still out there. “He’ll never stop.”

Steve was crouching before you in a heartbeat, holding out the box of tissues from the side table, looking hesitant and so concerned as he touched his free hand to your knee and gave it a squeeze.

You shuddered at the soft touch, realizing that you hadn’t been touched by another since that night with Cole. But this was so different–Steve’s touch made you feel safe and cared for. 

Which, for some reason, only made you cry harder.

“I will keep you safe,” Steve promised. “It’s my number one objective, my sole mission. The whole reason why I exist is to protect you.”

It took a moment for Steve’s words to sink in, for you to realize that you weren’t alone in this anymore, that you had support now. 

That you had Steve. 

“I-I’ve been so scared and alone,” you cried. “They didn’t b-believe me! How could they not believe me?”

“I believe you,” Steve’s voice was soft, but his words were firm. “I will always believe you.”

“What if he finds me? What if I have to spend the rest of my life running and hiding from him?”

Steve shook his head, not one solitary doubt flickering across his painfully handsome face as he assured you, “I won’t let that happen.” 

There was a fierceness to Steve now–in his words, in his gaze–and for a moment, you forgot what he was, and what he wasn’t.

Because he seemed like so much more than a machine.

And maybe that’s why you were finally allowing yourself to fall apart, because you had someone else now to help you pick up the pieces, to help you hold all of this. 

You were no longer all alone in the darkness, being crushed beneath an unbearable weight.

“I don’t want to live like this,” you whispered brokenly. “I’m so tired and I’m so scared and I don’t want to live like this anymore! I can’t do this anymore, I can’t. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.”

You hunched over your lap as you sobbed, rocking back and forth, your body buzzing with grief and overwhelm, with absolute turmoil as you finally surrendered to all of the feelings you had been harboring and suppressing for months on end.

You were so lost to it all, that it took a few moments for you to realize that you were pressed against a warm, firm chest. That you were crying into Steve’s shoulder as he gently smoothed his hands up and down your back in soft, soothing strokes.

For some reason, the gesture of comfort only made you cry harder. 

When Steve asked if he could hold you, all you could do was nod before collapsing against him entirely, letting him hold you through the tidal waves of emotion, your calm and steady anchor who, despite the maelstrom raging inside of you, made you feel safe and cared for in his tight embrace.

A little while later found you on the sofa, tucked beneath the cradle of Steve’s arm, your body pliant and tension free for the first time in weeks as you slept soundly against his chest. 

Of course Steve had been briefed on your situation before being delivered to you, but seeing the toll everything had taken on you firsthand–and how vulnerable you truly were–it had Steve experiencing something unexpected.

Beyond his programmed duty to keep you safe, Steve felt this overwhelming need to protect you, to take care of you, to take away all of your pain and distress. 

And it wasn’t so much his undeniable attachment to you–and how quickly it had formed–that had Steve’s brow furrowing. 

It was the fact that he felt at all. 

Because machines shouldn’t have emotions. 

Not even top-of-the-line, meticulously designed custom AIs like him should feel.

But Steve couldn’t deny that he felt strong empathy for you, as well as a fierce desire to keep you safe. It was like a living, breathing thing clawing at him from the inside out. 

And it only grew stronger as Cole Turner’s photo flickered across Steve’s vision. 

He’d gone a few steps further than all of the information on your situation that Sam had already uploaded to his mainframe, running his own in-depth research on the offender as you slept. Seeing Cole for himself, and recalling how terrified and disturbed you had been as you recounted your experiences with him…

It had Steve’s vision bleeding red at the edges.

It had him feeling anger, no, fury for the first time ever.  

And that unexpected, unexplainable ripple of feeling–of something more and outside of his programming–had Steve going rigid in his seat.

It had him worrying that perhaps there was a flaw in his design, in his functioning, in his ability to take care of you like you needed and deserved. 

Steve’s vision flashed green as he initiated diagnostics on himself, coding now speeding across his sight, as he made a mental note to send any findings–and his concerns–to Sam once the process was complete.

But just as quickly as the thought had come to him, it was pushed aside as you shifted against him, murmuring in your sleep. 

Steve’s eyes flew to you, softening as he watched you frown in your sleep. 

He moved before he realized it–before his programming caught up with his actions–his hand smoothing over your head in a slow, gentle caress that immediately had you sinking against him and the line between your brows smoothing.

His touch seemed to have a mind of its own, and Steve could only watch, feeling a sense of helplessness for the first time, as his fingers traced along your face, mapping the terrain of your skin. 

As he looked down at you sleeping against him and processed the way you clung to him, how your fingers curled into the front of his shirt, Steve felt something else that he knew shouldn’t be possible.

Something that should be cause for concern and reported to Sam immediately…

Possessive.

Steve felt possessive.

Of you.

—

AHHHH! AHHHHHHHH! AHHHHHHHHHHH! Okay, I’m fine. I’m fiiiiine. 

RIP slow burn, sorry to say. Or sorry not sorry, I can’t decide yet lolll. 

—

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He adores the waddling, even if you swear that you aren’t, threatening him within an inch of his life when he brings it up. Still, he can’t help it, following behind you while you mutter to yourself, maneuvering your belly out of the way when you open the fridge. Only two more months before he meets his little girl and he can’t wait. He knows you’re uncomfortable, your fingers pressing at the small of your back while you search for whatever you’re looking for.

But your eyes close in bliss when his hands cradle your belly, lifting it slightly as you breathe a sigh of relief, his lips against your neck.

“Impressive,” Ari praises, nipping at your mark. “I thought you’d take at least another five minutes to get out of that chair.”

“I told you I could,” you murmur, eyes fluttering open at the sight of your prize, reaching for it as he keeps you still.

“You didn’t ask me for help.”

“That’s easy, Levinson,” you reply. “I am extremely talented at getting myself out of difficult chairs.”

“What a talent.”

“I’m hungry,” you protest, letting him kiss you before he carefully lets you go, reaching inside for what you’re looking for.

“And I’ll make it for you,” he counters, turning you gently back toward the stairs. “But you need to rest, remember?”

“Doctor’s orders, yeah, yeah, yeah,” you mutter. “First I can’t work on cars, now I have to rest. What’s next?”

“I shouldn’t point out that -”

You clamp a hand over his mouth, glaring at him as you pull down on his shirt, his eyes meeting yours.

“I’m waddling? I wouldn’t,” you threaten. “And I will also have a pudding cup.”

“When did you buy those?”