Doctor Grounder

He wants nothing more than to acknowledge and validate your feelings. He would invite you to share rather than interrogating you; he would listen properly, no interruptions, no immediate solutions forced upon you. He'd remain close, protectively so, lightly holding your hand, or resting a hand on your back.

He would, quite literally, move mountains in his determination to restore your sense of calm and safety, eradicating small burdens, one at a time. You do not even have to lift a finger. He wants to shield you from all of the awful things in the world. And even when he can't shield you from bad days, he will do everything he can to make them easier to bear.

Within his reach, there is always care, there is always warmth and there is always a hot cup of tea (or hot cocoa) awaiting you after a long day.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Grounder's treads whir with quiet urgency as he hurries toward you,

"My dear! What happened?! You look positively distressed, please, tell me everything!"

{And if you don't want to talk about it...}

Grounder nodded understandingly, respecting your boundary. "Very well, I shall not press you. Do remember, I am here should you change your mind. Tea, perhaps? I would be glad to prepare your favourite blend!"

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

He gently easies you into a chair, his movements careful and precise.

"I am here, my sweet." He whispers, his tone low and reassuring as he gentle strokes your hair. "Let us find a way to ease that troubled mind of yours, hm?"

A steady warmth emanates from his core in attempts to sooth you.

"My love for you knows no bounds; there is no measure of what I would not do in your service" He reminds you.

He continues his comforting ministrations, careful as to not overstimulate you.

"Take all of the time you require, I shall remain your anchor for as long as you might need me."

He may even offer you his robe.

Or if there are blankets at his disposal, he will create a comforting refuge for you, optimizing it for maximum comfort, insisting that you rest. He will take care of all other matters.

Grounder chuckled warmly, he hadn't anticipated that.

"Smell good, do I? That is quite the compliment. I am not used to being told I smell like anything other than grease and oil."

He adjusted his monocle gently.

"Your presence is also quite comforting to me as well, though I must admit, your observations are...fascinating."

Grounder tapped his chin thoughtfully.

"My, my... that's quite the bold proposition. You may give me the wrong ideas with such phrasing." A sly smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "But I digress." He dismissed the matter with a wave of his hand. "You are far too pretty to be squandered on such simple maintenance tasks. No, that simply won't do."

Grounder's gaze swept over you- not critically, but appraisingly. "We ought to assign you to something more befitting your talents. And as fate would have it, I have just the position in mind." Before you could inquire further, he placed a hand on the small of your back, gently ushering you towards the door. "Come along, then. Allow me to familiarize you with your new accommodations."

"Oh, you would, would you?"

His eyes gleamed with interest.

Grounder hummed thoughtfully as he considered your proposal.

Lackey.

Assistant.

Partner.

Shared proximity.

Shared projects.

Shared Schedules

Shared-

A wide and thoroughly devious smile spread across his face.

Before you could react, he grabbed your hand and shook it vigorously, squeezing it with more enthusiasm than necessary. "Consider it done, my dear! You shall be mine, I mean- ...in a strictly professional capacity, of course."

A beat.

"Professionalism and all that. Yes. Quite professional."

In his mind, he was already drafting plans for the next ten years.

-totally not red I dunno what you’re talking about

Genius Grounder with an s/o that's clumsy!

He doesn't view your clumsiness as a flaw on your end, rather, he empathizes and accommodates instead.

He's run several simulations and enhanced his study accordingly to make it 'klutz-proof' (though, he'd never say it aloud as not to embarrass you).

He is rather protective. When walking together, you find that his hand tends to hover around your waist (not just as a romantic gesture, but as a protective one) and he's quick to pull you away from corners and edges where you may hurt yourself.

To him, every risk is calculated.

He is constantly scanning for "threats" (whether that may something obstructing your path, a pebble, a puddle, a slight inclination, it does NOT matter. He needs you safe, and he will do anything to maintain that safety.

"The Descent"

The screens hummed softly in his study, bathing the room in a pale glow.

Grounder stood exactly where he had been hours before, hands clasped behind his back.

“She understands,” he repeated to himself.

“She must understand,” he stated flatly. No other outcome was acceptable.

Grounder had spent hours daydreaming about how the two of them would spend their time together—sharing quiet laughter over moral philosophy, dancing to classical music, critiquing each other's work, even idly doodling across his schematics. 

He sighed dreamily. 

“To be in love is to change” he thought to himself, and change he had… though not necessarily for the better.

***

Later that evening, Grounder decided to go on a patrol— a routine only in name, in truth it was a carefully disguised attempt to encounter her. 

She was of a lower-rank, which meant that their paths rarely crossed. Those rare moments had begun to distort his internal calculations.

Even just a glimpse of her was enough to cause his systems to short-circuit. Grounder retreated into his quarters after their brief exchanges just to relieve himself, but his own touch no longer sufficed, he needed to feel her touch; her warm and fleshly body against his cool metallic one.

{narration shift}

Once he spotted you, Grounder attempted to shadow you discreetly, his eyes locked on his objective. He might have remained unnoticed had the squeak of his treads not betrayed him.

When you turned around, he froze immediately.

You were absolutely astounding up close. His breath hitched. ‘Say something, do not just stand there looking like a fool!’ his inner monologue screamed at him.

His treads squeaked beneath him as he shifted his weight.

 “I– um–” 

Grounder quickly composed himself, punctuating the moment with a dignified cough.

 “My dear,” he began, “you look… utterly divine.”

You blinked.

“Oh! Grounder!

He froze again.

You remembered his name.

Not his designated patrol post.

Not just “one of the Badniks”

His name.

“You remember me?” He asked, perhaps a little too quickly.

“Of course I do.”

Grounder nearly ascended. 

“Actually, I've been meaning to thank you for your help with last week's mishap in the store room.”

Grounder’s treads locked up, he blinked.

“You… have?”

“Those repairs on the conveyor belt really helped.”

Grounder was astonished.

You had noticed his work.

You had remembered his work.

You appreciated his work.

His internal reward systems began to behave in ways he had not anticipated.

Meanwhile, you continued, completely unaware of the effect you were having on him:

“If I just hadn’t been so clumsy in the first place, we would’ve never needed your repairs– but I'm really glad you came!”

You laughed.

Grounder immediately decided that it was the most beautiful sound that he had ever heard.

He quickly cleared his throat.

“For what it is worth, I do not believe occasional clumsiness to be a particularly detrimental flaw.”

A beat.

“But perhaps I am biased.”

“Biased, huh?”

You smiled.

“And what exactly makes you biased?”

“Well, I–”

Grounder stammered, his systems briefly overloading.

“Oh, come on. It can’t be that difficult!” You teased lightly. “No, no— you are right, is not difficult,” Grounder replied strenuously, “I simply wish to ensure that my response is… appropriately articulated.”

“Uh-huh…”

The amusement in your tone only made matters worse.

Before he could formulate a suitable and sophisticated response, you reached out and wiped a small smudge of grease from his cheek.

“There,” you said softly, “You had something on you.”

The contact had lasted less than a second, but his systems reacted as though he had been struck by something divine.

A sharp hiss of steam surged out from one of his thermal vents. He had secretly hoped you would do it again.

Without thinking, he caught your wrist before you could fully pull away– his grip was careful, but urgent. His eyes locked onto yours, wide with something unstable and unfiltered. 

“I too, have a confession to make,” he said, voice strained, “Though it may not be what you expect of me,” 

A beat.

*PART ONE OF A MULTI-PART MINI-SERIES*

{Cont’d from prev} <- disregard, for the author

Grounder’s systems overheated with unexpressed desire. Steam billowed out from his various thermal vents as he sat hunched over his desk, tinkering in a futile attempt to occupy his mind. With a frustrated roar, he slammed both fists onto his desk, sending a small tremor through the room.

 “It’s no use!” He growled through gritted teeth.

His graduation cap sat slightly askew, and his wide eyes – hollowed by sleepless nights – gleamed with predatory intensity. 

“I simply must have her. I must devise some course of action.” He brought a hand to his forehead as his circuits raced through countless simulations, evaluating and discarding variables.

Grounder froze as a new possibility emerged from the torrent of calculations.

“Of course…”

He rose from his chair with unsettling deliberation.

“It occurs to me that I have been approaching this matter… entirely incorrectly.”

His lips trembled before curling into a strained, unnatural smile.

“How could I have been so naive!?”

Then he laughed.

At first it was a quiet chuckle, but it quickly evolved into a fit of manic, triumphant laughter that echoed throughout his study.

As the laughter died down, he spread his arms wide, as though struck by a great revelation.

“No more hesitation! No more uncertainty!”

“If organic emotion is unpredictable… then I shall be the one to stabilize it!

A beat.

“By force, if necessary.” He said plainly, devoid of any emotion.

Grounder immediately got to work, labouring without rest as his systems overloaded in pursuit of a singular objective. 

It wasn’t long until his twin brother, Scratch, inevitably came looking for him, pounding on the door. 

“Hey, uh… bro? ‘You in there? It’s been like— days! The Doc’s been wondering about you, and he’s being a real pain in the bolts! You might want to get out here before we’re both scrap metal!”

The pounding continued. Grounder did not answer.

“Grounder, I'm being serious! We’re all starting to get… eugh… worried for your wellbeing. And that should mean something coming from me!”

 He clenched his beak, clearly uncomfortable with getting sentimental about his brother or feeding into his genius ego.

Then the door hissed open to reveal Grounder standing there, standing poise, looking crazed. 

“Ah, brother!” He smiled.

“You arrive at the most… opportune time.”

Scratch stepped back immediately. “Nope. Nope, I don’t like that tone!”

“Oh come now, why are you acting so skittish?” Grounder tilted his head “We are brothers, are we not? Closest of kin. Best of companions.” He chuckled 

“And yet… it seems I have surpassed you considerably, haven’t I?” He adjusted his monocle with a knowing smile.

“Grounder, wh-” 

“Ah-ah! Do not even think for a second that I would permit you to speak over me. Not after those countless occasions in the past where you believed you could hold the final word.”

His tone remained calm, conversational. 

“Always the one receiving praise… always garnering attention… while I was relegated to the margins.”

He stepped closer.

“The admiration of the doctor, the fleeting recognition. Even the girls…”

His tone darkened.

“But now, the paradigm has shifted. Now I shall be the one who holds commands attention!” 

A pause.

“And you… shall become nothing more than a stain in the history books once I am finished here.”

Scratch blinked.

“Ok, yeah, I'm gonna stop you right there— what does any of that even mean?”

Grounders eye twitched.

“It means, my dear brother,” he said coolly “that I have transcended mediocrity!”

Grounder gestured broadly. Monitors flickered to life behind him.

Scratch squinted.

“Why are there diagrams of… me?”

Grounder smiled sinisterly.

“Oho, not you, ALL of you.” 

He pressed a key on his desk. “Specifically… this subject!”

The monitors shifted – static cascading into a live feed.

A young woman appeared on-screen, her image alongside a clinical analysis. Measurements, annotations and observational data.

“Grounder, this is messed up, even for us!” 

"‘Messed up’ is a subjective matter…” Grounder stated calmly. “I prefer the term… dedicated.” 

He leaned against his desk, propped up on his elbows, gazing up at the image with unmistakable fondness. 

“Soon, my love, we shall be together indefinitely… beyond interruption. Beyond interference..”

“What!?” Scratch squawked “You mean to tell me that my own brother has been harbouring feelings towards…a girl… and he never even told me?!”

Grounder turned slowly.

“A girl?”

He blinked once. “Brother, you are thinking far too small. She is not a mere ‘girl’ as you suggest. She is… exceptional!”

“She evokes these sensations within me that are… difficult to quantify! My core temperature becomes unstable. My systems fluctuate in ways I cannot suppress.” He leaned forward, intensity building.

“Tell me, Scratch… has that ever happened to you? Have you ever been in love? True, genuine love?”

“Baha, well, uh… no…”  Scratch replied sheepishly.

Grounder sighed, leaning back.

“Just as I had suspected. You lack the necessary sophistication to understand such complexities”

Scratch opened his mouth, then thought better of it.

“Right… well, I’ll just— leave you to whatever this is. Tell the Doc you’re busy.”

The door hissed shut behind him once he exited.

Grounder did not respond, his gaze remained fixated on the screen.

“...She understands,” he said quietly.

Grounder

Grounder's eyes lit up with curiosity as he eagerly rolled closer to inspect the artwork. He stopped dead in his tracks when he realized its suggestive nature

"I-is that supposed to be ME!?" He squeaked, his pressure-gauge eyes flickering wildly as his cheeks flushed.

He hesitated, then gave a brief, awkward chuckle, rubbing the back of his head with a drill "Well, gee... I-uh... I'm flattered... I think!" He hastily handed the artwork back to you, fidgeting with his drills and flustered beyond belief.

Genius Grounder

At first, he appeared scandalized "H-how did you come into possession of such accurate yet disturbingly creative depictions of my esteemed physique!?" He demanded.

With a trembling hand, he adjusted his monocle for a better view, his optics widening further. "The artistic execution is... simply remarkable. I cannot help but find myself, against my own better judgement, feeling quite flattered."

He glanced up at you, optics briefly softening with warmth before he quickly composed himself with a cough. "Right, well... I shall confiscate this under security protocol! One cannot risk the potential leaks of such... compromising material."

Grounder sat at his workbench surrounded by schematics for a new cooling system. He made adjustments to his calculations, every movement precise and deliberate.

He muttered to himself: "I still need to account for these... emotional fluctuations. I simply cannot be having such an intense immediate response to... compliments."

"One ought to remain dignified! After all, I am a genius; it is only natural that others would recognize my brilliance. They would be right to compliment me." His voice faltered. He knew deep down that those compliments had meant far more to him than mere friendly praise.

Grounder attempted to focus on his calculations, but the numbers just blurred together. He huffed and adjusted his monocle. Turning to his notebook, he flipped to a clean page as he began to jot down possible causes for his 'unusual' emotional response.

Insufficient recharge cycle.

Catastrophic cognitive malfunction.

Temporary lapse in logical reasoning.

Unknown environmental variable.

I may have enjoyed hearing them compliment me.

Grounder crossed out #5 immediately