MissingConnection

• It’s a bit more work to write in your language using his alien glyphs instead of your own alphabet, but you’re pretty sure he’ll love this. At least, you hope he will. Especially since he’s hovering and trying his hardest to peek at what you’re doing since he has no patience whatsoever. “I’m bored. Aren’t you bored?” He mutters and you fight back a laugh as he vents dramatically. What’s it been? Two hours? You not paying attention to him is apparently killing him. “Don’t you want to do something?”

• “I am doing something,” you counter, still writing. Maybe you’re breaking up with him. In one single word at a time written on those papers and folded into stars. Maybe the fun is watching him unfold them all and spend hours trying to get them in the right order only for it to be an anti-love letter. ‘You’d just tell me if you didn’t love me anymore, right?’ He asks and you look up with a frown. “What now?” Gesturing sullenly at the paper stars, he shrugs as you stare at him like he’s being irrational. ‘I mean you wouldn’t go to diabolical and elaborately time-consuming means to break up with me, right?’

• What? Huffing out an exasperated breath, you stick your hand in the jar and find a colored star. “Yellow is for anxious, but I guess it covers being paranoid and weird,” you say, holding up a yellow, origami star. And he makes a face, mass shifting and pinching the star in his big servos as he tries to open it without crushing it. Watching him smooth out the paper, his frown deepens. ‘Yeah, yellow is for jibberish, apparently,’ he mutters and you snort at him, showing him the cypher. “Translate it to my language first, you goober.”

• Trying to not lose it as he opens a drawer and digs around looking for an imaginary alien bug, you grab your blanket and drag it over your shoulders. Maybe you should have mercy on him and just tell him you’re making the sound. You’d been too embarrassed to admit it that first time and now you’re keeping the gag running out of boredom. Watching him empty one drawer and start on the next one, you bite your lip. “I swear to Primus,” he mutters, looking behind the drawers after he’s removed them.

• Maybe it’s in the fragging walls. Crawling around in there and just waiting for an opportunity to feast on his tasty wiring. Shuddering, he hears it again and he spins, optics wide behind his visor. Because it sounded like it was right behind him, but there’s nothing there. Except you and you just look mildly puzzled. What if whatever it is, it’s after you? Maybe it’s waiting on a chance to drag you kicking and screaming into a hole and it’s going to eat you alive before he can get to you.

• Sucking in a breath when he just grabs you and clutches you to his chassis as he turns in a circle staring suspiciously at the walls, you’re shaking with barely suppressed laughter. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this. Probably,” he mutters as he draws a weapon and you press your face against his hand to try and not start cackling. Maybe you should take pity on him? “Nothing’s eating you or laying eggs in me on my watch.”