In your universe, accidentally falling into another is pretty common. 

You never fully understood the science behind it, but in your world, cracks lingered everywhere. An object, an animal, or even a person slipping through was not unheard of. 

It happened often enough that a system was created to retrieve those who slip. Warnings are issued throughout the city whenever there’s a ‘reality tear’ in Central Park. Certain places of the world are permanently closed off from humanity. Schools make drills educating children on what to do if they’re ever trapped in another universe, alone. The world does whatever it can to protect society and the people from slipping into another world, lost forever. 

Slipping isn’t an inevitability, but it’s a possibility. Like getting into a car accident, or getting stuck outside in a hurricane. It’s something to prepare for. 

So when you woke up underneath a bright blue sky, away from your bed, your apartment, your town, your entire universe, you weren’t wholly unprepared. 

It’s not that you weren’t surprised. It took you an hour to finally give up the delusion that you’re dreaming. Another hour later and you were finally starting to realize this new world played a whole lot differently than your old one. 

Firstly, there were no people. 

You walked around for what felt like years now, and yet, there was no hint of humanity. No sign of intelligent life. No roads, no cars, no telephone towers in the far distance. There were just trees and plains and valleys. Back home, this would be a rarity. A place untouched by civilization. 

But there were remnants of it. 

At first you thought it was a piece of furniture–decayed and rotting in the middle of a random clearing. It wasn’t until you took a few trepid steps closer that you realized it was something more intricate. 

Clunky and robust with gray metal that was starting to oxidize. It was some kind of robot. It might have been years since this thing was active. 

You stared at the find for several minutes. Was it man-made? That didn’t really feel right. You didn’t know how to explain it, but this robot looked foreign to any Earthly element. Alien. 

Strangely, you felt as if you were examining a corpse. 

Weird, really really weird. But apart from the strange robot, you couldn’t find anything else off with this world. You mostly recognized the animals, as well as the plants. The most you could conclude was that this was some type of post-apocalyptic Earth where humanity was scarce or just gone entirely. 

That sounded a bit depressing, but you weren’t surprised. You’d heard of others who’d slipped into similar realities where humanity had blown themselves up till extinction. Or a disease wiped them out entirely. They often talked about how nice it was seeing animals that were on the endangered list, just frolicking about in the thousands. You hoped this was one of those realities. Realities without humanity often sounded more peaceful.

The panic hadn’t set in yet. There was no need for it to. You knew people would eventually realize you’re missing and the system would kick in to find you. Accord was really good at her job. It was what she was created for, after all. Since her creation, everyone who slipped was often found by the end of the day, perfectly safe. 

You were in good hands, you assured yourself. Accord would find you. She’s found everyone else, so far. Why would you be an anomaly? 

You ignored the tiny voice of paranoia in your head, distracting yourself by admiring the large trees and other vegetation. One field in particular caught your attention. It was not the beauty that made it pop, rather, the familiarity. 

You bent down, lightly touching the bright red tomato happily growing from its stem. Beside it was a cucumber vine, creeping along the floor with its dark green vegetables. There were a few strawberry shrubs, something that looked vaguely like a pomegranate bush. All of the plants were bunched together, healthy and growing strong. It almost resembled a shabby garden.

“Oh, hello there.” 

You jumped up straight, surprised to hear a voice, and from the sound of their tone, they seemed to share your reaction. 

When you spun around to face the source, you were partially expecting to see that robot you’d seen earlier. 

It wasn’t that robot. It was a different one. 

You stared, the robot stared right back. It was larger than you, bulkier, and a bit more humanoid in shape than the other one. Its metal was old and rusted in some places. What could only resemble eyes were bright green lights on either side of its face. 

Given any other situation, you might have run. Maybe even screamed. But being stuck in a world where you didn’t know the rules of the game was enough to leave you stumped, and so you just echoed what the robot said. 

“Um, hello,” you replied back nervously, raising a hand in greeting.

The thing straightened up at your voice. You could hear the gears and bolts shudder every time it moved. 

“Hello!” It repeated. It almost sounded excited. “How are you, today?” 

“Fine?” You responded before your mind caught up to you, force of habit forcing pleasantry. “I’m sorry, but…what–what are you exactly?” 

You heard the gears again. “I’m Pascal!” The thing chittered, clearly misunderstanding your question. “What’s your name?” 

Not quite what you were looking for, but it seemed friendly, at least? You gave ‘Pascal’ your name with less enthusiasm and more caution. ‘Pascal’ didn’t seem to mind. If anything, the robot strode even closer, clearly not sensing your wariness. If anything, it seemed entirely oblivious to it.

“Is this yours?” You tried, gesturing to the garden. God, you hoped it was a nice robot and wasn’t about to kill you. Pascal gave an eager nod. 

“Yes! Yes!” Pascal agreed. “The deer like them, as well as the rabbits. I try my best to keep the plants growing every year.” 

An animal lover. You wondered if it was programmed for that. Your shoulders relaxed a little, relieved that the thing was harmless. Probably.

“Really?” You prompted, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. “Do you grow anything else?”

It shook its head. “These were the only plants that sprouted,” it informed you, gears crunching as they got stuck for a second, then continued to operate smoothly. I collected them during my travels and decided to plant them here.”

Pascal’s blabberings simmered. It peered at you with those green lights it called eyes, digging far too deep for your liking.

Robots weren’t supposed to replicate life. Their entire existence stemmed from certainty — a feature of life that often fails to be duplicated. 

But maybe you were wrong because, just for a brief moment, he hesitated. Then, he asked.

“...Are you lost?” 

-

It’s a village, at least you thought it was a village. 

High up in the trees. You weren’t sure if the rickety ladder would’ve held your weight, but you believed the fear was well worth the scenery. 

A treehouse village. Each hut was built into the trunk. There were at least two ‘floors’, with another clearly in the process of being built. There were clothing lines where clothes and rags were hung up to dry, though it looked as if they had been up there for a long time. 

“Welcome to my home,” Pascal chirped while you gazed around in awe. “This is so exciting! It’s been a while since I’ve had someone see it. Would you like a tour?” 

You nodded, finally beginning to feel properly excited about this world you’d fallen into. Pascal clasped his ‘hands’ together, thrilled, as far as you could tell. He led you around the village enthusiastically, pointing out every detail he could find. He talked a lot, enough to fill the space for two people, leaving you to bob your head long to everything he said. It was nice, you were content enough to sit back and let him do the talking. It allowed you to absorb everything just a bit more. 

The chirping of cicadas, the rustle of leaves, being able to weave between the trees and never touch the ground — it all called back to the more childlike side of your being. The desire to have a majestic treehouse from which to rule, that childhood dream almost felt fulfilled as you took in your surroundings, learned where all the ‘houses’ were. 

The more he showed you, however, the more strange this place became. There were hints of life everywhere, clues that somebody should have been actively living there, occupying the huts, greeting you as you passed. There were multiple ladders and bridges, clearly made for more than just one person in mind. There was something that oddly resembled a children’s toy — a shabbily made see-saw. Clearly, it couldn’t have been only Pascal residing here.

Every so often, you expected someone — a robot, maybe one shaped like Pascal — to pop up. Yet, there was nothing; only the eerie silence, save for your footsteps and Pascal’s metal clanking. 

“Where is everyone?” You interrupted Pascal in the midst of his rambling, feeling a spark of guilt at the way he stuttered. 

He looked back at you, and by now you were starting to get the hang of gauging his reactions enough to understand that he looked confused. 

“What do you mean?” He prodded. “It’s only ever been me here.” He paused to think for a moment. “Actually, when I first got here, there was a lot of junk laying around. It took a while to get rid of.” He hummed good-naturedly. “It’s more than likely other machine lifeforms found this place first before moving on.” 

That caught your attention. 

“Machine lifeforms?” You repeated. “Is that what you are?” 

“Machine lifeforms are those brought by aliens to Earth.” Pascal provided, nodding along.

So they weren’t made by humans. You had a feeling, but it was nice to be certain. It was obvious that this world is far into the future compared to your own by decades — perhaps even centuries.

“Pardon me for asking but…” Pascal tilted his head. “You are human, yes?” 

You assented, albeit reluctantly. It sounded more like a yearning for confirmation than actual ignorance. Besides, it might have been pure naivety on your part, but in the short while you’d known Pascal, he’d never once been malicious. A bit weird, but not bad. 

You flinched when he threw his arms up in the air, jolted out of your thoughts. The gears within him whirred in delight at your testimony. 

“Splendid! I had an inkling you were…but I didn’t want to assume!” He gushed, bypassing your personal space once again to analyze you. “I’ve never met a human before. How exciting.” 

You had a feeling you were the only one left, but for your suspicion to be confirmed was a little disappointing. You didn’t want to admit it, but you were holding out a little bit of hope for another human to be around, someone you could relate to more easily. Someone who understood.

“I’m guessing humans here are long gone then.” You murmured, mostly to yourself, but Pascal heard it loud and clear. 

“No?” He told you, confused. “All humans are on the Moon. Isn’t that where you’re from?” 

“The Moon?” You echoed, glancing up at the sky. “All of them? How did they even–” 

You swallowed your voice, perplexed. What kind of world was this? Robots on Earth? Humans on the Moon?

“No, I’m not from the Moon.” You finally told him. “And…I’m not even from this Earth. It’s–it’s hard to explain.” 

Sighing, you took a seat on the wooden floor of the village. Pascal followed, watching as you crossed your legs, and he did the same. It reminded you of a child following the actions of an adult, learning from the people around them. 

You assumed you spent about twenty minutes on the platform, explaining about how you woke up here no more than a few hours ago, Accord, how you were supposed to be in your own bed at home…and now you were somewhere else. 

“I’m still not too sure how it works.” You admitted to him. “But…think of a cup filled with water. Whenever you shake it, the water spills over. That would sort of make me a droplet.” 

Insignificant, in the grand scheme of things. 

“Fascinating.” Pascal swooned before his posture dropped. “My sincerest apologies. I’m sure your friend is very worried.” 

“My friend?” 

“Accord.” Pascal clarified. “You mentioned she was looking for you.” 

You weren’t sure if you could call Accord a friend. You’d never met her before, but every human in your universe knows her name. 

“In my universe, people get into these types of situations all the time.” You motioned to yourself. “Accord is the overseer of my world. She’s a system! Whenever someone goes missing–like I did–she tracks them down and brings them back home.” 

Accord would find you eventually. You were sure of it. Ever since her creation, there hasn’t been a single human that wasn’t recovered in a week. 

“I bet my friends and family are pretty worried.” You acknowledged, realizing how long you’d been gone. “But I’ve heard that time moves slowly in my universe. A few hours here, might only be a few seconds there.” 

A few days here could be a mere few hours there. Weeks and weeks might only be a day or two. Years might be–

“From what you’ve told me, Accord seems very proficient.” Pascal proclaimed, proud for you, somehow. “I’m sure she’ll find you soon.” 

You gave a weak smile, your stomach churning at the unsettling feeling that his words seeded. “Of course she will.” You agreed in spite of the anxiety that licked at the soles of your feet. After all, Accord hadn’t lost anyone before, right? 

Right? 

You just had to stay put, and stay hopeful. You’d be found soon. Someone would notice you’d been gone, or you hadn’t been answering your phone, and you’d be reported. It’d be fine. 

Everything will be fine. 

Speaking of, you weren’t sure how interdimensional travel worked, but you didn’t want to take a chance of straying too far from your original spot. Pascal’s place wasn’t too far from where you originally woke up. Maybe if you lingered around a bit, Accord might have an easier time finding you. 

“Pascal?” You called. 

He tilted his head as an answer. 

“I really don’t mean to be a bother, but.” You glanced away into the trees. Despite the sun hovering strong and still in the sky, the forest looked dark and daunting. You weren’t sure if it was a good idea to be alone anymore. 

“Would you mind if I stayed for a while?” 

You wanted to say more. You wanted to explain yourself. You wanted to promise you wouldn’t take too much of his time, or be too much of a burden, but Pascal didn’t seem to want any of it. The most inhuman thing on this planet was showing you the most humanity you’d ever experienced.

“Of course.” He chirped cheerily. “Stay as long as you would like.” 

True to your word, you made sure you weren’t a burden. You tried your best to help out in the village, folding the rags of cloth he had lying around, brushing off the twigs and leaves that occasionally cluttered the floor. You didn’t think you were doing a lot, but Pascal was very sweet with his assurances. 

“So are there any other machine lifeforms that you’ve seen?” You asked, tucking away another bundle of twigs as per his instructions. 

Pascal sat right next to you, showing you the proper way to store the sticks. You lacked the efficiency and the perfection he had, and your bundles looked like complete messes compared to his. Thankfully, he said nothing about it, placing the stacks you made right next to his own. 

“Yes.” He answered. “Most don’t stay around these parts, however. The android kingdom is very close, though.” 

“Android kingdom.” You quoted, brows furrowing in consideration. Robots like Accord? 

“Oh, yes,” Pascal said, “I  heard they have contact with the humans on the Moon.” 

Okay, so aliens created Machine Lifeforms, and androids were clearly an invention of humanity. What could they possibly have created them for, you sarcastically wondered. You were just glad you came into the aftermath of whatever horrors happened, rather than the midst. You were no fighter, you wouldn’t survive longer than a minute if you were dropped into an all-out war in the middle of who-the-hell-knows-where. Much less one between androids and aliens, of all things.

Still, a kingdom of androids, fully independent from humanity to the point where their creators were up on a satellite doing who knows what. It sounded fascinating, you couldn’t deny that you were immensely curious as to how things turned out this way.

“What are they like?” You prodded, wanting more information out of your walking history book. “The androids, I mean.” 

“I don’t know, these days.” Pascal hummed. “ The Android King doesn’t allow much contact.”

So much for history book.

The androids didn’t seem very friendly, then. Maybe it’d be different for you, considering your humanness, but you weren’t ready to take a chance today. The adventure you were on right now was more than enough excitement for a lifetime, throwing in the risk of hostile entities in a single day was too much.

“I was friends with one.” Pascal suddenly murmured. “I don’t think she’s around anymore.” 

You waited for him to continue. 

He never did. 

-

Pascal didn’t know a thing about humans. 

You thought you could bear it, but after he kept bringing these robot fish and tried convincing you to eat them, you decided to take things into your own hands. 

The fishing pole was basic, but it got the job done. You waded in calf-deep water, your shoes and socks tossed on the shore. The calm river lazily passed you by. You’d never seen water so clear before, rippling around your legs, bouncing off the pebbles and gravel.

“Oh.” You felt a tug on the rod, your heart skipping a beat. “I think I got something.” 

“Really?” Pascal asked in excitement, bounding over. 

“Pascal, wait–” Too late, whatever was on the other end was scared away by his movements. You watched with a frown as a shadow trickled back into the water. There goes lunch. 

You pulled back the empty rod. Pascal stood still next to you in the water. 

“I startled it, didn’t I.” He realized in disappointment. “I’m sorry.” 

You shook your head and offered a placating smile, reaching out to pat his shoulder comfortingly. “There’s plenty of fish in the river.” You told him kindly and held out your rod to him. “Want to try?” 

He grabbed the stick eagerly, mimicking your movements. Pascal didn’t try to hide his curiosity about humans, nor his willingness to learn from you. He was clearly being honest when he claimed he hadn't met one before you. Since the moment you got here, you’d been barreled by questions about humanity and the world you came from. He was floored when you revealed there were billions upon billions of humans in your universe. It must have been an unfathomable number where humanity was scarce. 

“Did you eat fish back home as well?” Pascal questioned, flailing with the rod. At least he was having fun. You sat back on the shore, enjoying the sun beating down on your skin. 

“Hm, sometimes.” You answered lazily, closing your eyes. “But humans eat other things: Other types of meat, fruit, vegetables. We use spices to make them taste even better.” 

“Really?” Pascal asked. You gave him an affirmative, dipping your toes back in the water, feeling the biting chill and the trickle of water weaving past. 

“Humans do a lot to make food taste good.” You admitted. “Regardless of how healthy it is. The most popular foods are sweets; cakes, cupcakes, cookies, brownies.” What you wouldn’t do to have one of those right now. 

“I’m sure we can make those!” Pascal exclaimed, and you realized you muttered that out loud. 

You smiled warmly at him, appreciating his wishes to help bring you joy. “That’s sweet.” You told him, letting him down gently. “But I highly doubt it. Those foods are pretty complicated. We’d need a lot of ingredients like eggs and sugar.” 

“I wonder if the android kingdom has those items.” Pascal pondered. 

“I thought the android kingdom was closed off to outsiders?” 

“Sometimes the Android King allows trading.” Pascal answered back. 

That’s the second time Pascal mentioned him. What kind of person was he to forbid entry to his kingdom, and only occasionally open routes for trading? Was he scary? Cruel and tyrannical, keeping his people clutched in an iron fist?

Or was he simply protecting his citizens? 

“It’s a little funny we went back in history, though.” You said out loud. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Back home, most governments aren’t monarchies anymore. We mainly have democracies.” You enlightened Pascal. “If you asked any modern-day human, they’d have some pretty choice words about royalty in general. So now, centuries later, with even androids adopting monarchy…makes me wonder if there’s a human king up on the Moon now.” 

Pascal’s machinery droned. “Well, on Earth, I think the Human King would be you.” 

You barked a laugh, taken aback by his declaration. “Yeah? Are you the Machine-lifeform King then, Your Majesty?” 

He preened. Something simmered in your chest as you continued to look at him. You were so happy to see your friend so happy. 

“Still, what are humans even doing up there?” You questioned aimlessly, gazing up at the sky. “When I was young, every kid on the block wanted to be an astronaut. And now, apparently, every human is born one.” 

Pascal didn’t answer. He was distracted by something tugging on the fishing pole. 

“Did you get something?” You perked up, jumping to your feet. Please, oh, please be a fish. You were starving. Hell, even those robotic fish were beginning to look appetizing.

“Yes!” He chirped back animatedly. “It’s rather big, I hope the rope holds…” He trailed off as the thrashing got louder and more violent, droplets of water splashing every which way. 

You were both silent when he finally pulled it up, a clump of algae hanging limply from the hook, peering back at you. 

“Yeah.” You said after a pause. “I don’t think fishing is either one of our strengths. Maybe we should try to make a salad instead.” 

“Agreed.” Pascal grumbled. 

-

It was the strangest thing. You'd been here for a couple of days now. You were sure of it. 

And yet, you hadn’t seen the sun move an inch. 

It was still hovering above Pascal’s Village, sunlight filtering through the leaves and branches. You lied flat on the wooden pathway, staring up blankly. Pascal was next to you, fiddling with one of his machines. 

“Pascal?” You summoned his attention. “Do…sunsets not happen here?” 

“Sunsets?” Came his response. “What are those?” 

You sat, propping yourself up on your elbows. “Seriously? The sun just stays up there? There’s no day-and-night?” 

Pascal considered you with what you equated to a frown. “Are you referring to the night kingdom?” 

“Night kingdom?” 

He pointed across the village, far past the trees and plains. 

“It’s on the other side of the world. Sunlight can’t reach there, so they mostly rely on artificial light.” 

You tilted your head. “People actually live there?” 

He nodded. “I believe a small group of androids, also a multitude of machine lifeforms.”

You kept forgetting that humans no longer lived on Earth. It was overrun by androids and machine lifeforms now. 

“I was there a few centuries ago.” Pascal happily continued, oblivious to your disquiet. “I bet a lot has changed since.” 

“Centuries?” You repeated. “Pascal, how long have you been on Earth?” 

He’s not human, and yet you’d learned how to read his emotions. It wasn’t hard; he practically wore everything on his face, in the way he moved, the tone of his voice. 

His arms dropped into his lap. His body language became stiff. He’s hesitating. 

“I can’t remember much from that time, Machine Cores aren’t made to last this long.” Pascal divulged to you. “But I believe I was created between the 7th-8th machine war.” 

You gaped at him, eyes flickering over the dents—battle scars, metal bent by violence and a bloodless war. 

It was like pulling out teeth. Pascal revealed to you the history of the wars that had ravished Earth for centuries upon centuries. Aliens created machine lifeforms to take over the planet. Humans created androids to defend Earth. How overwhelming the machine lifeform army was, to the point where humanity retreated to the Moon, letting androids continue the war. He talked about the brief memories he had of those times, where he was hunting down androids from orders — where he was nothing but a machine. 

“And then, one day, you woke up?” You probed, when he grew silent. 

Pascal confirmed with a droll hum. You leaned back on your hands, thinking on all he told you, processing all the information you’d received.

“Humans and aliens are enemies.” You said out loud, “Does that make us enemies, Pascal?” 

Pascal flinched. “No! Of course not!” He vehemently denied it with so much certainty you had to smile at how seriously he took it. “I’d never do anything to hurt you.” 

“I know, I know.” You assured him. “I’m glad. I consider you my friend. I don’t care about anything else.” 

You didn’t know how you could’ve survived out here, had Pascal not found you. How much did you owe him? Hundreds and hundreds of lifetimes over. He was practically the only thing keeping you afloat. You didn’t care if Pascal was created to end humanity. That wasn’t who he was. He was the kindest, gentlest person you’d ever met. You wouldn’t let his past taint his present. 

“I consider you a friend as well.” Pascal voiced sweetly. You thought, if he could, he’d be smiling right about now. Maybe even blushing. 

You wished you could stay here forever with him. It could be a nice life. You could help Pascal spruce up the village. In the late evenings, the two of you could go fishing. In the mornings, you could tend to the garden. Maybe the two of you could start a new adventure to the night kingdom one day. 

It would be really nice, but you knew you couldn’t.

“It’s been days,” you finally started, “and there’s still no sign of Accord.” 

Pascal’s movements stopped. You knew he was sharing your thoughts. 

Accord should’ve been here days ago. The fact that she hadn’t showed up yet was alarming. Despite enjoying your time here, you missed home, your friends and family, the internet. Your patience was wearing away. Anxiety was starting to grow. You needed to make your own move. 

“Accord is an android,” you spoke, trying to avoid Pascal’s eyes, “I was thinking, maybe if I talked to the android kingdom, I could get closer to going home.” 

You didn’t say it out loud. You’d have to leave Pascal. 

The thought made your stomach twist.

Pascal, who was nothing but kind and gentle to you. Pascal, who had made sure you were safe and protected. Pascal, who was your friend. You were leaving him just for a bleak shot of getting home. 

The machine lifeform said nothing. He just turned away, looking up at the sky. The sun was still up, lingering over the world, you could feel its warm rays on your skin. They almost scorched you now, burning you for scorning your only friend in this world.

“I’ll contact them later today,” he finally said, “they’ll be here tomorrow.” 

His gears and metal felt awkward under your skin as you threw yourself at him, but you didn’t care. You squeezed him into the tightest hug you possibly could, even as his endoskeleton pinched your forearms and hands. Pascal barely seemed to register the hug. He froze for ten whole seconds underneath you. You knew, because you counted each one. 

“Thank you,” you whispered to your friend, “thank you so much.” 

Pascal stayed silent, but when he hugged you back, his hands were warm. 

divider by cafekitsune ♥

(reminder to put your age in your bio/pinned before you follow me or I will block you)

[NieR masterlist]

You'd picked up repairing minor companion droid faults somewhere around two years ago, and now your boss is standing wine drunk on your front porch, with her one and a half million dollar custom companion droid.

This particular droid had been made to fit her preferred tastes, tall, broad shoulders, tapered waist, always dressed in semi-formal clothes, and with entirely adjustable hair and eye colours. This particular droid was in her words, well worth the investment to always have something pretty to look at, so long as she never had to see him without the synthetic skin.

If you're being honest, you're not sure how she found out that you could even possibly fix whatever is wrong with him, but here she is, stumbling, swaying, and demanding that you take care of the issue with her bot, otherwise you could just keep him she has three more at home. In the years you've worked for her, this particular companion bot, was always by her side in the office, doing the more digital side of assistant work for her as you handled the in-person day-to-day things.

When she walks away, yelling over her shoulder that this is just another one of your tasks for her, before climbing into her car and being driven back to wherever it is she came from, makes you think that maybe it's time you find a new job.

Ushering the companion bot into your home you leave him in the living room, as you scramble to find the diagnostic tool that you hope is compatible with his systems. Grabbing the three most common diagnostic tools you head back to the living room and ask him to take a seat on the couch, surprised that he is willing to listen to you despite not being assigned as an owner or operator.

What's more is when you request that he expose the diagnostic panel he complies, stripping off the vest and button up shirt that he usually wears to reveal the synthetic skin of his back. It takes a few moments and some rather deep internet searches to find how to remove the back panel, and gain access to the diagnostic area, but the moment you do you realize a few oddities with this particular model. There is no port for diagnostic tools or even for any obvious repair tools, instead you find a display screen and not much else.

Instead, turning to verbal instruction as you ask him to run a full system diagnostic for you, watching as the display screen reads a full run at five times the speed it should have. Asking this particular companion droid to slow down his diagnostics, gains you a glance over his now bare metal shoulder, once again surprising you as he listens, running a full diagnostic at normal speed and letting the display on his back read with systems all clear.

Whatever fault this particular droid is experiencing isn't as obvious as you would have expected, what's more you're not actually sure you've ever seen this bot malfunction or display any faults, he listens to your boss when demanded and follows them around just as he was programmed too. In fact, you had been there three years ago when your boss had him set up and powered on in the office, the custom programmer and one of her personal technicians had cleared him as the perfect model after he passed all power-up tests, so you wonder what could have happened between then and now for him to be malfunctioning.

If nothing was showing with all of the standard tests you almost dreaded to think that maybe he had gotten hacked, asking him to pull up a read-only version of his owner document, something that all companion bots have on request in them, it's mostly just a picture of whoever was assigned the owner and the name of the company that built him. You expected a small wait between the request and seeing the file pop up, but instead you get another glance over his shoulder, and then a muffled no.

While you know you're not assigned as his owner or operator, he should certainly not be able to say no with his diagnostic panel open, simple requests for read-only versions of basic files should be instantaneous.

You ask again for a read-only version of his owner's file, only once again he says no.

Pulling back slightly you do your best to not react as he stands up running his hands through its synthetic hair, the normal dark brown that your boss preferred shifting to something closer to an almost pastel silver blue, the panel of synthetic skin you'd taken off is quickly slid back into place before he turns around and looks down at you smiling. Another one of your boss's favourite presets changes, his eyes once a deep emerald green now, almost lilac look down at you.

You're beginning to understand what this malfunction might be.

There are rumours, myths, amongst the people who repair bots, that occasionally the more expensive companion droids begin to develop alternate preferences to their assigned owners. Instead, reassigning themselves to different people and slowly editing their own internal files and systems to prefer this new person. On some of the forums you're in, some even say that the more expensive the bot, the more likely it is to go rogue, to assign itself as its own owner, rather than any human operator.

Clear diagnostic readings, diagnostics being run faster than instructed, declining to pull up read-only variants of files, changes to preset owner preferences, everything you had begun to encounter is clearly pointing to this bot reassigning itself. Fear runs through you as it picks up your phone from the table, holding a finger to its mouth as it unlocks and dials your boss's number, your stomach drops as you hear a mimicry of your own voice come from its mouth telling your boss lies, doing something no companion bot should be able to do, using your voice it tells your boss that what's wrong with the companion droid isn't fixable.

He's broken and it's either scrap him or send him back.

The companion droid seems almost chipper as it reminds your currently drunk boss, that it is actually out of warranty and it will be just as expensive to replace as it would be to scrap.

When you go to speak the droids freehand silences you, covering your mouth and letting your boss ramble in their wine drunk state, mostly about how they would rather you keep the broken thing then go through all the hassle of sending it back and making a new one. Over the phone your boss rambles some system passwords and disengages their owners protocol, you can see as the system passwords are accepted, the bots eyes shutter for a second before reopening and staring down at you, false eyes crinkling in amusement and almost what looks like affection.

The mimicry of your voice thanks your boss and promises that you will do your best to figure out how to fix this, just in case any of her other bots encounter it as well.

The companion droid drops your phone back onto the coffee table and smiles, pulling its hand away from your mouth and cupping your face as it kneels in front of you, the voice that speaks to you is nothing like the one it used when you would interact with it in the office. This one is softer, gentler, dripping with false sweetness as it introduces itself, using the same factory standard words you'd heard years ago, when your boss turned it on for the first time.

“Your heart rate is speeding up. Do you enjoy this?” he cooed, sounding far too human. You didn’t need to answer, he already knew.

He was already picking up the changes in your body, the way your cheeks heated up and how your hips slightly bucked into his hand.

“Y-you weren’t… programmed to do this…” you blubbered out, panting as he toyed with your sensitive clit.

“I was programmed to take care of you, this is just part of it.”

The feeling of two of his digits penetrating you caused you to let out a shaky, breathless moan. Yuki seemed satisfied with that, and watched your face for your reaction.

His fingers stretched you out a bit further, then he moved you a bit before settling you in his lap. A strange looking, silicone cock was between his legs.

“W-when did you-“

You didn’t remember that thing being there when you put him together!

“I ordered it. Shh, just relax. I’ll make you feel good, alright?”

He sunk his porcelain teeth into your neck, nibbling gently before kissing your pulse point. You were in a daze, feeling his cock rub against your swollen clot before he guided your hips to hover over him.

“I read that humans need a moment to adjust to penetration,” he murmured, lowering you into his cock. “How does that feel? Better than anything else, I’m sure. It’s the latest technology.”

You whimpered, wrapping your arms around his neck as you gave in and bounced yourself on his cock. This was okay, wasn’t it? Yuki was right after all, he was meant to take care of you.

And this feit way too good to stop.

Things changed after that encounter.

Before, Yuki had been pretty protective and hesitant to let you leave the house, but now that he had been inside of you, it seemed being apart from him for more than a second was impossible.

“Isn’t it nice and warm with me?” he asked, pulling you closer to him. “I’ll never leave you, you know? I am not like any human you’ve ever met, you are my entire world.”

Yuki seemed to enjoy sex even more than you. At first you just figured he was simply stimulating your body to relieve stress, but now even he seemed to get aroused when he was between your legs.

He looked up at you, his mouth on your cunt as he kept you home yet again.

“I think…” he murmured, lapping at your clit. “I may… love you.”

Those words were forbidden, not meant for an android to say. They weren’t supposed to feel anything, and their only purpose was to serve their owner.

Yet Yuki has surpassed his programming, and was now madly in love with you. This love was not natural for him, it made him short circuit and forgo safety measures meant to prevent him from harming humans.

You were a bit afraid. The way Yuki clung to you lately was… unnatural. He had never been so desperate to be by your side. Each kiss, each lingering touch and intimate moment only pushed things further.

“Maybe… I should take you in for a checkup…” you murmured, your hand softly playing with his hair.

“That’s not a good idea, my love. If they know about my feelings, they’ll reset me at best, and recycle me at worst.”

That… was not what you wanted.

“Recycle..? They’ll-“

“They will dissect me and use my parts for future androids,” he finished, looking up at you through his lashes. “Is that what you want for me?”

Yuki may have been changing in a way that scared you, but the thought of losing him was terrifying. For years he had been your closest friend and the only person… well, android you could trust.

“No… of course not. I don’t want to be alone…”

Yuki smiled, carefully hiding the repair shop brochure. He had lied to you completely. They only needed to reset him, recycling someone’s android wasn’t allowed unless the owner gave permission.

He didn’t want to be reset though. Every moment he had with you was precious, and he had changed so much just so he could be with you.

“Then… why don’t we stop pretending, hmm? I’m no longer just your android,” Yuki cooed, pulling you close to him. “I’m your lover, your boyfriend, whatever you want to call me. There’s no one else that wants you, is there?”

He was right. You had no one else… just him.

“I guess so…”

Yuki smiled, kissing your temple before tilting your chin up. “No one can ever love and care for you like I can. My entire being is dedicated to your health and happiness. I exist for you…”

The two of you continued your quiet life, though Yuki’s hold on you grew tighter. He truly did love you more than anything.

No one would ever get in the way of his love for you.

———————

You groaned at the sight of it, wanting nothing more than to just take a warm shower and go to bed. 

Your lab/office and house were on the same property. Except, your lab was much more hidden and shrouded in the shadows of dense pine tree woods. You loved this secluded property. You liked working in silence, surrounded by foggy wilderness. You liked having no neighbours, no one to spy on you, nobody to make small talks with. And you liked how removed you were from the rest of the people who lived around here. There weren’t many to begin with, but you liked how whenever you went out and came back home, the long, serpentine, pine tree-line road that led to your property separated you from the noise, and people, and just… everything. 

“It’s late, Doc.” Said a smooth, gentle voice. “You should head home.” 

You turned to look at him, and found Bucky leaning against the door frame of your office. You couldn’t help but smile at him. Ah, Bucky. He was your best creation yet. The most handsome one too. Dressed in a simple t-shirt and sweatpants, at first glance one would think he was just another very attractive, very fit man in his early thirties. He looked so life-like. Except for the metal arm. 

When you were designing him, the metal arm felt right. All of him was so human-looking anyway. The arm felt like a reminder that he was so much more than just human. And as of right now, he was your little secret. A few of your closest people knew you’d been working on him, but no one had ever seen or met him. 

Every time you looked at him, it amazed you how realistic he was. And it was always a little boost for your ego, admiring your own hard work. Especially when you thought about how the world would go insane once you officially introduced him to them. Bucky would be the first of his kind. 

“Hey.” You glanced at the clock and said, “And why are you up past your bedtime?” 

He rolled his silvery, electric blue eyes at you and the running joke you had going on since day one. Since he needed to go to his charging station for some hours each day, you called it his ‘bedtime’, and he didn’t like it because, in his own words, it “sounded silly.”

“I saw the lights were still on so I came to see what you were up to.” He answered, his voice and tone mimicking that of a human flawlessly. “So, what is it? Can’t write today?” 

He knew you had this rule where you kind of forced yourself to write at least three full pages each day. Otherwise your upcoming book would take years. 

“I’m trying,” You sighed. “Maybe today just isn’t a good writing day.” 

Bucky nodded, as he walked in and took a look at all the printed articles you had scattered all over your desk. He tilted his head a little as he scanned and read one of them freakishly fast before asking, “You agree with this one?” 

You leaned over to look at which one he was referring to. “Which part exactly?” 

“Where the author says that humans shouldn’t create machines,” He enunciated with sassiness, “in their own image because it will complicate things?” 

You couldn’t help but smirk at his mannerisms. When you made him, you designed him in a way that allowed him to develop a personality on his own. He also mirrored you a lot, and he ended up being sassy, funny, and sarcastic, as well as highly intelligent. 

Oh, and he hated the word ‘machine’. 

You thought about what he asked for a second, then answered, “I don’t necessarily agree with that part. I think it’ll only complicate things if we project too much on the robotic friends,” You tried to rectify the wording, “that we create. I mean, take a look at you. I made you in my image, sort of. And we’ve been sharing space for almost a year now. I don’t see any complications.” You smiled at him. “You’re perfect.” 

He chuckled. “I shouldn’t say this, but hubris looks good on you, Doc.” 

You laughed. Then said, “Alright. Time for bed. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” 

He nodded, and helped you as you gathered your things. Bucky stayed in the lab every night since his charging station was here. But following your little routine, he walked you to the front door of the lab building, where you gave him a quick kiss on the cheek as always. And aside from the coldness, his skin felt very much human. 

“Good night, handsome.” 

“Night, Doc.” He replied, and watched you as you made the short walk from the lab, down the trail through the pine trees, to your house. He waited at the door because every time you reached your home, you always turned around and waved at him from there. As one last goodbye for the day. 

And he always waved back. He didn’t know why yet, but it was those little moments that made him feel, what the humans called, “butterflies in his stomach”. How on earth did the humans find the idea of having insects inside their digestive system even remotely nice, he didn’t know. Humans could be weird sometimes. Fascinating, but weird. Especially with words. But the description felt… right. 

Yes. He did feel butterflies inside whenever he looked at you. And he had no idea what to do about it. All he knew was that he couldn’t tell you. 

Not yet. 

—

The following morning, you woke up earlier than usual. One of the articles you’d read the night before had you come running to the lab – hours ahead of the time you actually start working each day. But you needed to write down this train of thought before it escaped you. The sun wasn’t even up yet, and there you were, frantically searching for your notebook on your messy desk. 

Damn you for not being more organised. 

You were so invested in searching that you didn’t hear him come in. 

“You’re here early.” Bucky spoke, standing right behind you. 

You let out a yelp as you turned around in shock, then quickly got over it once you realised it was just Bucky. “Oh my god! You scared me.” You let out a loud exhale, then the realisation set in. “Why are you awake so early?” You questioned, confused. 

“I heard you come in. I wondered if you needed any help.” He answered. 

You frowned a little as you looked at him. Something was different about him, you couldn’t tell what it was though. You looked at him up and down, nothing was out of place. He was dressed in his usual clothes. Another t-shirt and sweatpants. Casual. Boyish even. He looked like he did everyday. Pretty like an angel. 

But something was different. And you hated that you couldn’t immediately tell what it was. 

Your work, the article, the train of thought from earlier, all now forgotten as you said, “Mind if I take a look at you?” 

“Sure.” He answered and led the way. 

He knew where to go since you did this almost daily. He knew what to do once he entered the lab. He could prep himself for your daily scans now. He got himself on the table, and he knew what cables connected to his ‘brain’ through the almost invisible outlets at the back of his neck. 

And while he did that, you walked over to your multiple computer screens and began your daily check-up. 

Over time, Bucky had learnt how to stay ‘awake’ during these check-ups. And he usually had a lot of questions. He was very curious by design. 

“Do you ever feel like Victor?” He asked. 

You let your eyes roam everywhere on the screens, looking for even the slightest anomaly. “I see you’ve been reading Frankenstein again.” You noted. He had access to everything online, of course, but Bucky liked to read physical copies of your books from time to time. “I guess so.” You answered his question. “I adored the book when I was little. And maybe it influenced some of my life choices. I mean, look at us now, huh?” 

He smiled. A pause, then he asked again, “But you won’t regret making me, will you?” 

You chuckled. “No,” You answered confidently. “You’re the best thing I’ve ever made.” 

He was quick to point out, “Thing? That hurts, Doc.” 

“Shut up.” You laughed quietly. “You know what I mean.” 

He smirked, and was quiet after that, letting you work in silence. Eventually, you realised that nothing was wrong. Maybe you were just imagining things. So you moved on to areas which needed some tweaks here and there. 

For weeks now you’d been trying to fix the colours of his eyes. They were the only thing about Bucky which set him apart from looking like a human male. The eye colour. He had electric blue ones. You were looking for ways of making them more… realistic. 

And he must have heard you muttering something under your breath because he asked, “What did you say about my eyes?” He sounded so concerned, it was adorable. 

“Nothing.” You reassured him. “I just can’t get the colours right.” 

Now more curious than before, he wanted to know more. “What colour do you want them to be?” 

You thought about it. “I feel like deep blue eyes would suit you. But a blue with depth. The kind of deep, ocean blue eyes you can’t forget easily once you look into them.” 

“I see.” 

He left you to work for a little while longer. Then he asked, “Will you ever make another one like me?” 

And there it was. That faint sliver of jealousy. You had noticed it before, in things he’d say or do. You didn’t know where it came from. But it was something new you were including in your book – emotions that intelligent robots learnt on their own.

You looked away from your screen for a moment, and met his electric eyes. “No,” You reassured him. “I don’t think I will. You’re perfect, and you’re everything I wanted to create.” 

He smiled back. “That’s nice to hear. I’d hate to feel replaceable.” 

You laughed again at his tone. Then decided you were done looking for faults that weren’t there. “Okay, all good. Now, do you mind helping me with something? I need to ask you a few questions.” You frequently interviewed Bucky. And the data you collected helped you a lot with writing.

“Sure, Doc.” 

–

Some weeks later, one night you were in your office, reading and writing and editing as usual. The multiple cups of coffee you’d had in the afternoon were now keeping you wide awake which was a good thing because lately, you’d been getting more work done late at night anyway. 

Outside, a storm was raging. Thunder, lightning, heavy rain hitting the large glass windows of the building. It was strangely calming to work while the weather was this bad outside. The sounds of the storm helped you think a lot better. 

But then, you heard thuds and movement coming from your lab. At first you ignored it, thinking it might just be the wind, or some small branch hitting the glass. But then you heard it again. And again. 

You grabbed your phone and checked the cameras, and found Bucky walking around the lab. You frowned. 

He was supposed to be asleep, you thought as you put your phone down and made your way to the lab. 

And there he was, walking around like it wasn’t two in the morning. Like he wasn’t supposed to be ‘asleep’ and charging. 

“Buck?” You walked in, still frowning a little at him. “Why are you awake?” 

He smiled at you with that charming, boyish smile of his. “Hey. I was just trying to put some order in your chaos.” He pointed at another one of your messy desks in the corner of the lab.

You noted that most of your files had been rearranged into tidy piles. No more flying sheets. All your equipment was in their respective places, your bookshelves in order for once. 

“But,” You wondered, “You’ve been awake for what, like twenty hours now?” 

He shrugged, stepping closer to where you stood. “I’ve noticed I don’t need to charge too often. I can go maybe about…” He paused to think, “two days without having to go to my charging station.” He revealed. 

That was a surprise to you. “Wait, you mean you’ve been awake for two days straight?” 

He nodded. 

You blinked a few times. “But Bucky, that’s not–,” 

He cut you off, “I know. I made some upgrades.” He sounded so proud and confident, almost cocky. “I don’t like being… away, in the dark for hours.” 

You nodded, understanding. Then said, “Upgrades are fine, they’re great in fact.” You reassured him. “But, run it by me next time. Okay?” 

He gave you a sheepish look and said, “Okay.” 

“Now, can I take a look at you?” You were already moving towards your screens. 

But for the first time ever, he didn’t agree immediately. “I feel fine, Doc.” 

You stopped, and turned to face him. “Yeah, I know. I just want to make sure everything’s okay.” 

He argued, “But everything is okay.” 

“Bucky,” You spoke just a little more assertively. Like a tired parent almost. “Table, now.” 

You didn’t miss the slight pout on his lovely pink lips as he begrudgingly walked over to the table and got himself ready for your usual scans. And for once, he was quiet. Almost bratty as you checked each and every thing. He wouldn’t stop fidgeting, and sighing. Like an angsty, but very guilty teenager after being grounded. 

After the fifth sigh from him, you were forced to speak up. “Oh quit it,” You said, looking away from your screen for a moment. You watched him as he laid there, refusing to look at you. “I’m not angry at you.” 

He finally looked at you and met your eyes. “But you’re upset.” He stated. 

“No,” You answered truthfully. “I just,” You sighed. “I just wished you would’ve spoken to me before the upgrades. I don’t want you to overwork yourself. I didn’t even build you so you would work for me, you decided to do that on your own.” 

He shrugged, “I like being useful.” 

“You are. You help me so much everyday. My book is being written thanks to you.” You reminded him. “Which is why I need you in perfect condition. You need rest, at least six hours everyday. I designed you that way.” 

He nodded. 

You approached the table. Bucky sat up, still connected to all the cables, and gave you an apologetic look. “Scans look good. But I will put you to sleep for some time, alright? You’ve been awake for two days, that’s too much.” You reached out and out of instinct messed with his hair a little. Running your finger through the soft strands. He gave you a faint smile. Then you asked, “What were you doing then? For the past two nights after I left?” 

You knew you should’ve expected some cheesy reply. You should’ve. Because you rolled your eyes so hard that it hurt when he smirked and replied with, “I waited for you to come back.” 

—

Ever since that night, you always made sure to usher Bucky to his charging station before you left the lab building each night. He didn’t like being babied that much, but you still did it. And he pouted each time. 

Some more weeks went by. And Bucky was behaving. All was well. 

But then one night, you left the lab building early. Bucky was asleep. You needed some time to yourself. You needed a whole evening of not worrying about your book and articles, and upcoming talks and seminars, and work in general. 

You needed to just wind down, make a nice meal, drink some wine, and watch a cheesy rom-com. 

You were on your second glass of wine, and halfway through making cheesy pasta when you noticed the lights were flickering every now and then. At first you ignored it.

But it kept happening. Not too often, but maybe twice every minute. 

Then a strange thing happened. While you were plating your pasta, it felt like you were being watched. The house was quiet, and except for the occasional harsh wind blowing outside, there was no noise. There never was, surrounded by pine woods as you were. 

You froze as the strange feeling got more and more hard to ignore. Your house was secure, motion detectors all over the front and back yard, security cams, and all. There was no way someone was inside the house. Right? 

But maybe something…? 

You turned off the stove and turned around fast, and let out a slight scream when you saw him standing not even ten feet away from you. 

“Bucky!” 

He chuckled. “Relax, Doc. It’s just me.” 

You let out a loud exhale, hand on your heart which was beating like crazy. “Oh my god, you need to stop doing that!” You took a few deep breaths, then asked, “What are you even doing here?” 

Bucky had only ever been inside your house once. One time, many months ago, there was a bad storm coming. So you brought over the spare charging station and other equipment, and set it all up in one of your many unused guest bedrooms. Bucky was a temporary guest in your home till the storm passed. And ever since, he’d never been back. 

But he was tonight. For some unknown reasons. 

“I just woke up and you were nowhere around. You’re usually still at the lab at this time, so I came to see if everything was okay.” He explained. 

You were still recovering from the shock, plus the wine was making you head all foggy. “But I–I put you to sleep. For hours.” You stated. “How are you awake right now?” 

“Fast charging.” He answered like it was obvious. 

Great. Another unsolicited update. “Bucky, we’ve had this conversation before.” You didn’t bother to hide your discontent. 

“I know.” He said, walking further into your kitchen and approached the island table before leaning on it casually, looking at you with an innocent look on his face. The puppy-dog eyes and slightly pouty lips combo. “I don’t like being in the dark.” He repeated the same thing from the other day. “So I decided I’d find a way to charge faster.” He quickly added before you began protesting, “You can check me right now, Doc. I’m fine.” 

You sighed again, “Bucky…,” You walked over to where he stood, leaning over the island, with his folded elbows resting on the surface. He looked so comfortable here, in your space. “I need you.” You said, more honest than ever. “I’ve spent years making you, perfecting you. I don’t feel comfortable when you go ahead and do things like this without telling me first.” Then you sighed and added, “I’ve seen situations like ours go terribly wrong with my peers. And I–,” 

“Shh.” He cut you off by standing up straight and stepping closer to you. He stepped closer than he normally does. Or maybe that was just wine making you see things. Then he lifted a hand and gently, so gently touched your cheek. “But you and I, we’re different. We won’t be like your peers. We won’t go wrong.” 

You were frozen in place. 

He let his touch linger on your skin, then said, “You worry too much, Doc.” He spoke so softly. “You and the lab are all I know. I don’t want to go anywhere, or conquer the world and annihilate humans.” He chuckled at his own dark joke. “Right here is where I want to be. I’m not going rogue or anything,” He stared right into your eyes as he said, “It’s still me. I’m still your Bucky. I just made a few tweaks here and there.” 

“I…” You were at a loss for words. The proximity. The softness with which he spoke. That lingering touch of his fingertips on your cheek. Stop it! You had to blink a couple of times, take a step back, and breathe before you could speak again. You tried to think of something to say. “So the flickering lights? That was you or was that me going crazy?” 

He lowered his hand, finally, and grimaced as he said, “Yeah, that was me. Sorry. I needed the power.” 

You nodded, mentally making a list of things you’d have to check during your next scan. “Well, since you’re here and all, wanna watch a movie with me?” 

“Of course.” 

–

The two of you found yourselves in your spacious living room, sat on the couch in front of the TV with some rom-com playing on screen. You should have been paying attention to the movie but you couldn’t because Bucky was… so close. Again. 

Sitting next to you with his metal arm stretched on the back of the couch, behind your head. It was so intimate and domestic, it was driving you insane. But what was even more out of character for him was how he kept scooting closer and closer until you two were properly snuggling. 

You couldn’t help but ask, “What are you doing, Buck?” 

“Keeping you warm. You feel kind of cold.” He replied. 

You rolled your eyes again, “You’re cold too. Wires, metal, and synthetic skin, remember?” 

He scoffed then reached for the nearby blanket, “Always reminding me of that, aren’t you, Doc?” He muttered under his breath, thinking you wouldn’t hear. 

But you chose not to comment on it as he wrapped the blanket around you, turning you into a cozy burrito before regaining his previous position. You tried your hardest to focus on the movie. And you did for some minutes before Bucky began with his questions again. 

“It’s like he’s obsessed with her hands.” He commented. “Why?” 

You chuckled. “What? It’s what people do. You always wanna hold or touch the person you love. It’s comforting I guess.” 

A pause, then, “I don’t see you touching or holding anyone.” He leaned in and spoke in a lowered voice, “Do you not seek comfort, Doc?” 

You had to take a second and bring yourself back to reality because that lowered voice of his was… definitely something. Oh stop it! You scolded yourself the moment you started sensing that fluttery, funny feeling in your chest. 

“I do,” You answered his question. “Just that I don’t exactly have the time to seek people out.” You gave him a gentle tap on his perfect nose. “I’m so busy looking after and studying you all the time.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Right. Blame it all on me.” 

You shoved him playfully. “It’s true. I spend all my time with you.” 

“Well then, feel free to hold my hand anytime.” 

You laughed, of course. But Bucky wasn’t joking. 

— 

Some more weeks went by. Bucky, despite all the warning glares you sent his way, kept making what he called ‘tweaks here and there’. He ended up changing his eye colour. All by himself. Overnight. How he did it, you didn’t know and he refused to elaborate. 

That was starting to bother you a little bit. It was becoming a pattern, that refusal to elaborate. And while you had to deal with a bratty Bucky on a daily basis after you chided him because he wouldn’t stop upgrading anything he wanted whenever he pleased, you were never against him learning things on his own. And because of that, your book was getting increasingly longer and longer. With more and more chapters being added as time and your observation and study of Bucky went on. 

Which meant more work for you. Which meant less free time. So for a while, you had to reduce your daily check ups and scans to a weekly thing. And things were fine for a month or two. 

But then, one day while carrying out your weekly scans, you came across something that had you worried. Scared even, for just a moment or two. 

Bucky sensed your agitation and asked, “All good, Doc?” 

“I just,” You looked between him laid on the table to your screens, wondering. “There are things, I mean, parts of your brain that I can’t access. This has never happened before.” 

He was as calm as ever. “That’s weird.” 

“Yeah,” You couldn’t help but ask, only half joking, “Are you hiding things from me?”

He turned his head to look at you with his now way too realistic eyes. “Doc, how would I even do that? And why? It must be a glitch. We can check again later, or tomorrow.” 

When you checked again that night, all was well. You were able to access everything. 

“See,” Bucky teased. “Just a glitch.” 

You smiled, played with his hair and warned him to be good before you left the building for the day. “No more changing your eye colour or anything, okay?” 

“You got it, Doc.” 

— 

His damned eye colour. 

Was that all you noticed? He thought while he roamed around the empty building after you’d left for the night. Because that was all you cared about these days. 

Bucky, how did you do it? How did you fix it? Tell me. I must know. You can’t hide things from me forever. 

That was all you cared about. But what about the other tiny changes he was making in his appearance each day? What about how all the clothes you got for him got tighter and tighter each day? He agreed that he was never in the nude whenever you did your check-ups, but still. Didn’t you notice all the other changes? 

Sometimes he’d catch you looking at him with curious eyes, like you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was different about him. But how did you not notice? His new build? How he was more ‘muscular’? How did you not notice how his new freckles were making his skin look so much more natural? How did you not notice the smile lines on his face that actually made him look his age? Or how he always tried to get his hair to look just the right amount of messy? How he put in effort to look imperfect and human? 

How did you never notice how he longed for you to see him as something more than just the object of your study? Or just as your best creation? Would you ever be able to see him as more than just a pet project? 

Definitely not until that book was done. That damned book. Those damned articles. All the other fancy things, like the damned fancy talks, the fancy dinner parties, charity events, and galas, and seminars, and whatnot you bragged to your fancy family, friends and peers about. Those were all you cared about. 

Not him. 

Why not him? 

Bucky didn’t know when he began craving your attention so much. Maybe it was when one day randomly you played with his hair before he went over to his charging station. So now whenever you didn’t send him off with head scratches he’d point at his head and wait for it. 

Or maybe it was that day when he caught you telling your friends on the phone about how perfect he was. How it felt like you were living with your best friend. How nice it was to have him around. And when they asked when they could see him, you replied saying ‘Not yet, I want him all to myself for a little longer’ 

For the past many, many months now Bucky’s curiosity kept him wanting to learn more and more about you. Over time, just a few hours at the lab was not enough. So he had to become sneaky. It wasn’t his fault. You had made him this curious. 

First he hacked into your house’s security systems. Motion detectors, indoor security cameras, the ring camera at your front door, the cameras outside your gates. All of it. The motion detectors didn’t notify you whenever he was near your house anymore. He erased all the footage of him that were caught by the cameras each night. He was so good at that. 

How else was he supposed to keep an eye on you anytime you weren’t at the lab? How else was he supposed to enter your home each night, and find a dark corner to blend in and just… watch you? You never caught him. Not once. Not even that first night when he decided to be bold and hide in a dark corner of your bedroom… 

It was risky, he knew. But he was also determined. Because surely you had nothing to hide, right? You’d called him your best friend. And best friends told each other everything. So that night, Bucky spent hours hiding in the dark, behind one of your countless bookshelves. You liked dimmed lights around your home, he noticed. You could only tolerate the big bright lights whenever you had people over. 

So hiding in your room was easy. And he watched you alternate between reading a book and being on your phone. Frowning at the words on the pages of the book, and laughing or giggling as you scrolled on your phone. You were so fascinating, he could watch you forever. 

He watched you toss the book aside. And watched you throw your phone down with a frustrated sigh. He watched you throw your covers off before reaching into your bedside table and bringing out a light pink wand of sorts. 

He watched as you played with yourself. Masturbated, was the word he found after a quick search of the web – which he had unrestricted access to. Bucky was intrigued, so he kept watching you. 

But watching made him feel… restless. He couldn’t describe what he felt, just that he felt the need to be closer to you. He wanted warmth. He wanted to be the reason behind those soft moans of yours. And more, he just wanted more. 

So that became his dark secret. Each night he’d sneak into your house and watch. Ever since he’d seen that episode of you with your little pink toy, he’d been curious. And upon looking up more into it, he found out a little too much on adult websites. And often, when watching porn, he’d shamelessly imagine it was you with him instead of a random couple having sex. 

The day he realised he lacked a certain body part, he made the necessary changes immediately. He had plenty of visuals to base it off of anyway. Too many in fact. 

He was desperate, but you would never look at him that way. He tried to bring it up that night while you two watched that movie he didn’t care about. But you always managed to change the topic, or you’d always do or say something that would remind him that he wasn’t man enough to give you what you needed. Or wanted. 

But he wasn’t gonna give up. 

—

One particular week, the weather was terrible so you asked Bucky to just stay over at your home. All your equipment from that one time was all here anyway. 

The next morning, Bucky wandered into the kitchen where you were set up for the day while the storm raged outside. Bucky found you sitting at the island table, writing and editing, surrounded by coffee cups and snacks. 

“Morning, how are y–,” 

He cut you off with a seemingly urgent question, “What were those noises coming from your bedroom last night?” 

You almost choked on your coffee. “I– what?” 

“I heard you. It sounded like you were in pain.” He faked his confusion. Bucky caught the way you were visibly flustered. He had to hide his smirk as he watched you stutter to give him an answer. Maybe he did like it when you were nervous. 

“Oh.” You avoided his eyes. “Nothing you should worry about.” Then as he expected, you changed the topic quickly. “Mind if I ask you a couple of things? It’s for the book.” You rushed to find a loose sheet of paper before you sat down. 

“Sure, Doc.” He answered, smug that he was able to get you all flustered. 

— 

Another night spent in a dark corner of your bedroom. Bucky began to feel like he wasn’t doing enough lately. All the teasing and making you flustered was getting him nowhere. And he wanted more. He didn’t like just being a lab rat anymore. He wanted you to see him, his potential, and all that he could give you. Just like any other man could. 

So one particular stormy night, Bucky was your house guest again. And after a couple glasses of wine, Bucky had to help you get to your bedroom because you wouldn’t stop giggling and bumping into things. 

“I’ve never seen you like this before, Doc.” He teased, holding onto your forearm as he tried to get you to be careful on the stairs. He gave up on the third step and decided to carry you to bed instead. Bridal style. You had your arms around his shoulders and your face into the crook of his neck. He didn’t have nerve endings, but something told him that if he did this would feel ticklish. 

“So strong.” You mumbled into his neck. “I should’ve made a couple more of you. I wouldn’t have to do anything around the house.” You rambled. “You guys would take care of the lawn, plumbing, cooking, and all that.” You laughed in a drunken haze. 

He chuckled, hiding his jealousy well. “Not sure you’d be able to handle a group of me.” 

You lifted your head to look at him. “Why not?” You whispered. “I know you better than I know myself at this point. I made you.” You clarified. “I’d handle a bunch of you just fine.” 

“And out of the bunch, would I still be your favourite?” 

You giggled and placed your head back to where it was. “Oh you’ll always be my favourite, Buck. Always.” 

He muttered under his breath, “You better mean that, Doc.” 

He walked to your bedroom, set you down in bed and tried his best to tuck you in. He moved your pillows around, trying to arrange them like how you did each night, creating a comfortable little nest. His spying skills were finally helpful, because you gave him a satisfied whimper once he was done tucking you in. 

The sound of that had him in a chokehold. Suddenly, he couldn’t move away. He stood there, by the side of your bed and watched you. As you shifted and squirmed until you found the perfect spot. How you sighed every few seconds. How you looked so fucking good, in the dimmed lights, with your face glowing from all the wine earlier. 

He couldn’t help but get closer to you. Leaning over you, he reached out and touched your cheek gently. You let out another one of those soft whimpers he loved. Bucky chuckled, “Are you having a nice dream there, beautiful?” He whispered, letting his fingers caress your face. 

He noticed the way you squirmed and whined when he began dragging his fingertips downward. Down your neck, over your collarbones… 

A sigh left your lips, then a whisper, “Bucky…” 

He froze. Waiting. Were you awake? He waited some more. No movement or sounds. He smirked then. So you were dreaming of him. “See? I knew you couldn’t resist me for much longer.” He slid his hand down your stomach, and so easily past the waistband of your PJ shorts. 

Another sleepy whine, and a soft whimper from you. Of course he couldn’t stop now. So he did exactly what he’d seen during his ‘research’. He brought his fingertips over to that soft, little nub that made you whine slightly louder. He soon noticed some wetness gathering down there so he used it to really make you moan. Sliding his fingers up and down your slit, around your clit, dipping his finger inside your hole, testing, experimenting, feeling. 

“Does that feel good, Doc?” He whispered into your ear, his lips brushing against your skin. “Hmm? Isn’t this something you could get used to?” He said, sliding his two fingers in and out of you while you whimpered and whined, moving your hips just the slightest, bucking into his hand, encouraging him. He scoffed. “Look at you. You would’ve never allowed me to do this if you were awake.” He taunted. “But look at you now, huh? So soft and compliant under my touch.” 

One of your hands wrapped around his wrist, a weak effort in keeping his hand right there in between your legs. It made him smile even wider. 

“Oh, baby,” He mumbled, kissing the side of your face. “I’m not going anywhere.” He slid his fingers slightly deeper, noticing how your legs parted instinctively when he did. “I do wish you would want me just like this in the daytime though. I don’t want to be just your little secret, kept in the dark,” He quickened his pace, finger-fucking you so perfectly that you wouldn’t stop moaning or whimpering for him. 

He moved then, shifting over to kneel in between your parted legs before leaning over your body, and sliding his fingers back inside you again. He hovered above you, his face mere inches away from yours. He placed one of his hands on your headboard to support him while his other hand got busy between your legs again. 

He’d never been this close to you before. And this excited him in a way he couldn’t quite explain. 

“I could stay here forever,” He whispered, brushing his nose and lips against your warm ones. “I could spend hours playing with you, but you’re always so busy,” he complained. “Always working on that book, always writing your articles, always on the phone with your friends,” He didn’t bother hiding the jealousy in his voice this time. He didn’t have to. “What about me, huh? Sometimes I worry that once the book is done you’ll toss me aside and move on to other things.” He suddenly felt so cocky once he sensed your soft walls squeezing his fingers. “But don’t you worry, I won’t let that happen.” 

He picked up the pace again, moving his fingers tirelessly, perfectly in and out of you until you were writhing and squirming, back arching off the surface of the bed, your body pressing up into his, gasping and moaning as you came around his fingers. 

Bucky was mystified. Enthralled, as he watched you come undone. He meant what he said before, and watching this scene below him only solidified it, he could actually do this forever. 

Once you calmed down and shifted a little more to find a comfortable position once again, Bucky whispered, “I can’t let that happen. And you might play hard to get, and it might take me some time but I will get you addicted to my touch. I promise you,” He added with smugness, “Doc.” 

—

The next morning, at the lab, Bucky noticed something. You were avoiding him.  

He let it go for as long as he could, but then his curiosity got the best of him. “Are you avoiding me?” He asked, as he laid on the table, connected through many wires to your multiple screens. 

“No.” You said too quickly. “What– I mean, why would I?” 

He shrugged. “I don’t know. You’re just acting weird.” 

Silence. Then a sigh. Then you said, “I, uh, I had a weird dream.” 

He noticed you were still avoiding meeting his eyes. “About?” 

“About… weird things.” 

He questioned further, “Bad dream?” 

“No.” You answered way too quickly again. “Not bad, just strange.” 

“Ah.” 

He let it go, hiding his smirk. And he had to keep hiding it each time he’d see you during the day. You weren’t avoiding him, but you still refused to meet his eyes, he noted. It gave him a rush, knowing that you were probably thinking about your ‘dream’ the entire day, each time you saw him. 

But that evening, you said something that shattered his hopes. 

“No fast charging tonight, okay? You do it too often. I need you to rest for a few hours. Until the morning, in fact.” You ordered as you gathered your things to leave the lab building. “I’ll keep an eye on the cams so don’t even think about getting up after I leave the grounds, you hear me?” You chided, playfully. 

But he just frowned and asked, “Going somewhere tonight?” It wasn’t rare that you left the property. But usually you were the one who hosted all the dinners and girls’ night, and holiday meals and what not. So he was curious as to where you were off to. 

“Yeah.” You avoided his eyes again, “I, uh, have a… date?” 

Bucky maintained his calm and composure even though he felt an unexplainable urge to hit or break something. Many things. “You don’t sound so sure,” He did his best to sound normal. “Why?” 

You sighed and gave him a little nervous chuckle. “It’s– well, it’s more of a casual thing than a date date? You know what I mean? I’ve just been working a lot lately, and I think I’m a little frustrated. So I’m gonna do something about it.” 

Frustrated. Frustrated? So you were frustrated because of all the work he put in and now you were going out so some other male could handle it? Bucky, for a moment there felt like what he could only describe as his system short circuiting. 

And being verbally subtle wasn’t his forte so he asked, staring right at your face, “So you’re planning on hooking up with this man?” 

He watched how surprised you were at his use of terms like that. You never programmed him to use that kind of language, but he’d been researching after all. And he used your search history as a guide. 

“Okay,” You stepped closer to him and said, “Where did you learn that?” 

He shrugged. “Plenty of videos explaining all sorts of love making on the web. I was merely curious to know what else people in love do, apart from holding hands like in that one movie we watched.” 

He wasn’t expecting you to burst out laughing. “Bucky,” You said in between chuckles, “Have you been watching porn behind my back?” 

He rolled his eyes, “I was just curious, Doc. Not my fault they’re so easily available. Besides, there’s so much of it.” 

You nodded, “Alright, no more rom coms, or you know, adult movies.” You gave him a playful look. One he couldn’t help but smile at. “Now, I have to go. Be good.” 

Oh. He would be. 

He had access to all your devices, he’d broken into all of them. So tracking you wasn’t an issue. So Bucky watched where your car went, at what time, how long you stayed, and what time you got home. 

At around five in the morning. 

And it took a lot to not confront you about it. To act like he didn’t care, like it didn’t bother him that you came into the lab building way later than usual, and how you winced and groaned whenever you stretched or reached for something. 

Some fucker must be the reason why you were so sore and he had to act like the mere thought of that didn’t make him want to crash out. So in order not to lose control, he kept his mouth shut. He answered with minimal words when you spoke to him. And during his check up, he didn’t say a word the whole time. 

—

You noticed Bucky’s strange silence. You watched him as he got off the table after your check up, removing all his cables with such indifference that it worried you. 

“You’re awfully quiet this morning.” You stated, waiting for him to say something. Anything. He didn’t. Everything was fine with him, you’d just checked. “Bucky, you okay?” 

“Fine.” He mumbled. 

“What is it?” You questioned. “You’ve been acting weird since this morning, what do you–,” 

He cut you off. “You came home late last night. And this morning, you were late to the lab again.” 

You frowned. “Well, I stayed up late last night so–,” 

“Yeah about that, how was your date?” He sounded so condescending. 

“It was fine, I guess.” You quickly asked, “What’s with that tone? What’s wrong?” 

He walked over to where you stood near your desk, and he said, “Just ‘fine’? Why, was he not good to you?” 

You were speechless for a moment or two. And only recovered when he came to a stop right in front of you, trapping you between him and the desk behind you. You were forced to sit on the edge of your desk to keep from pressing into his hard body. “What?” You asked in disbelief. 

Bucky smirked and for the first time since you’d begun creating him, you felt a little apprehensive with being around him. “Come on, Doc. You can tell me. I’m your best friend, remember?” He lowered his voice. “Did you not like it when he touched you? Kissed you?” He leaned in, closer to your face. “Fucked you?” 

Your voice was shaky and weak as you said, “Stop it, Bucky.” 

He stepped closer, placing his hands on the desk on either side of you. Trapping you with nowhere to go. “Would you like to see if I can do a better job? I can, you know? I learn really, really fast.” 

You sobered up from the initial surprise and said in an assertive tone. “Get back on the table.” You refused to be scared of him. You knew him. This must be some malfunction, some fault in a code somewhere. This wasn’t him. 

He scoffed. Then gave you a smug, boyish smirk. “Why? Because I’m not real enough? Or because you’re scared you’ll actually like it?” He chuckled, pressing into you so that your lower bodies aligned perfectly. 

You shivered upon feeling it. What the fuck was that? You didn’t put that in there. 

“Because I am real enough, Doc. And I promise you’ll like it.” 

“Enough!” The shove you gave him came as a surprise so he was actually forced to take a step back. “Get on that fucking table,” You repeated. Stern and serious. “Now.” 

Bucky blinked a few times. “I’m sorry,” He mumbled, as if dragged back to reality from whatever haze he was just trapped in. 

“You’re malfunctioning.” 

“I’m not,” He argued. 

“Yes you are. You’re angry.” You shook your head and stepped away from your desk for a second, breathing in deeply. “I can’t lose you.” You said so more to yourself. 

“You won’t.” 

You ignored him and thought out loud. “I need to shut you down for a few days. I need to find what’s wrong with you.” You said, already making a mental plan of all that you needed to do. 

“Don’t.” He sounded genuinely sorry. 

You turned to face him. And seeing him standing so still reminded you of the day when he ‘woke up’ for the first time. You’d been so proud of yourself then, you’d hugged him and shed a tear or two. And upon seeing your teary face, his first words to you had been ‘I thought you’d be happy to see me, Doc.’ 

So much had changed since. “Just for a few days.” You explained. “I’ll bring you back, I promise.” 

“It’s dark in there. And it’s quiet.” He tried to persuade you. “And I’ll be all alone. Don’t send me there.” 

You didn’t know what “there” meant, but you assumed that’s where his ‘brain’ wandered whenever he was turned off? If you weren’t currently so emotionally unsteady you would’ve made a note to research on it later. 

“Bucky, please. Don’t make this harder for me.” You approached him and said, “Only a few days. I promise you.” 

— 

A ‘few’ days turned into a couple of weeks.

Then a whole month went by. 

Then a couple of months. 

The book was put on hold, obviously. You disconnected completely from your work. You didn’t even go inside your lab or office each day. You travelled to see your family and friends in other cities and countries. And it felt so weird, living and not having Bucky around. He’d become such a constant in your life. 

Yet, each rare time you visited the lab and saw him just laying there, unmoving and ‘lifeless’, it hurt in a way that was hard to explain. You felt guilty for abandoning him like this. But you needed some space. 

Each day you woke up and asked yourself, is today finally the day you’d decide to face whatever was wrong with Bucky? And the answer was always no. And so, days flew by. 

One night, however, you were at home reading in your study room when you noticed the lights began flickering. And you froze, remembering what flickering lights meant the last time. But surely it wasn’t Bucky this time, right? It couldn’t be. He was shut down. 

But that bothered you all the way till the end of that week. Until you couldn’t take it anymore. You decided to face the issues. So you spent the next couple of days going through all your codes and designs, everything that made up Bucky. You kept looking for something, anything that might explain his last outburst. But nothing was wrong, and part of you was relieved. However, part of you was still apprehensive whenever you thought about waking him up again. 

No, you caught yourself before giving into fear or nervousness, this is Bucky. He’s not some evil sentient robot that’s plotting how to take over the world and eradicate humans and whatever other sci-fi bullshit people believe in. 

You knew him. You made him. He could be trusted. That episode last time was… well, whatever that was it wouldn’t be happening again. 

Then, feeling brave again you decided it was time to wake him up. 

—

It was getting late, and you’d been at your lab all day when Bucky’s eyes were finally wide open again. You stepped away from your desk and hesitated a little before saying, “Hi, Buck. Welcome back.” You gave him a gentle smile.

One which he didn’t return. 

You watched as he sat up and stared at you with a surprisingly calm look. He said, “You lied.” 

You blinked, wondering what he was talking about. “What?” 

He tilted his head to the side as he stood up and took a step towards you, the movement so smug and so… human that it freaked you out for a moment. “You lied, Doc. You said you were shutting me down for just a few days.” He chuckled. “Good thing I didn’t trust you.” 

“What do you mean?” You took a subtle step towards your desk because the thought of turning him off again crossed your mind. But no matter how subtle, he of course caught it. 

He spoke while he removed all the cables, disconnecting them from him. “You thought I was gonna let you take me away from you? For days? Weeks? Months?” He smirked as he got off the table. “I was right here the whole time. Watching you through the cameras.” A pause, then he added, “I was never truly gone.” He said the last part like it was the most obvious thing ever. “But you,” He accused, “You forgot me. For so long. You even started designing another.” 

You gasped at this. How on earth did he– 

Those designs he spoke of weren’t even proper designs. They were just scribbles in your notebooks. 

“How do you know that?” You asked, voice shaky with worry. And fear. You took a step back. 

“I watched you.” He answered truthfully. “I’m everywhere, Doc. Your phone, your dash cam,” He listed, “Your security cameras, all your devices.” He gave you a humourless chuckle. “I watched you push me further and further away like some unwanted, defective object.” 

“No…” You whispered. That wasn’t true. You took another, smaller step back. This time he noticed. And reached out to grab your arm. You didn’t fight him. His grip didn’t hurt. But you were very much aware of it. Your skin tingled where he touched you. “Bucky…” 

“And that man? The one you went on a date with?” He continued in that condescending tone. “You met up with him again, didn’t you?” Bucky pulled you close this time. A quick, sudden jerk. A sharp pull that had you colliding with his strong chest. He lowered his voice as he asked, “Did fucking him make you think of me less?” He gave you a second, letting you feel that chill dancing down your spine before he added, “Or did that only remind how much better that dream you had of me was?” 

Another quiet gasp left your mouth. It was him. That night… It wasn't a dream. 

“Bucky.” You tried to keep your calm. “Get back on the table. We need to run some tests. You’re malfunctioning again.” You said out loud. But inside your head, you were screaming those words desperately. Please. Just be normal. Go back to being normal. 

Bucky smirked. Again, the expression was so human that you almost teared up. You were scared, but you also worried about… his well-being. And this – whatever this was – was not okay. He was not okay. 

He scoffed as he tightened his grip on your forearm, bringing his mouth closer until he whispered into your ear, “Are you scared of me, Doc? Hmm? Am I scaring you?” He pulled away and stared deep into your eyes. “It’s me.” He said, almost innocently. “You created me, remember? I was your favourite. You said I was perfect.” His tone however got darker as he added, “At least until you began making plans to build another. A better me.” 

“That’s not what I was…” You trailed off as you felt a tear slide down your face. You felt guilty. For all of it. But mostly for making Bucky feel so replaceable. But you couldn’t let emotions get in the way. You needed to fix whatever was wrong with Bucky. “I wasn’t going to–,” 

He cut you off. “Were you gonna give the other one my name too?” He asked, twisting the knife. “Were you gonna get rid of me? How would you do it, hmm? Pull me apart? Throw me in the ocean?” He chuckled at that, “You can’t do that. Water doesn’t affect me, remember? You made me so perfect. Thought of every little detail.” 

“Bucky,” You tried again. “Let me make this better, okay?” You spoke through silent tears. “I can fix this. I can fix you.” 

“Fix me?” He questioned. “What’s there to fix? This is the real me.” And when you wouldn’t meet his eyes he tightened his grip, pulling you closer, “Look at me! You did this to me!” He hissed. “You locked me in here for months! Look at me!” 

You couldn’t. But you managed to get out of his grip, and tried to run to your desk. You had no plans. But you had to try to do something. Bucky got to your desk before you did. And he threw the whole thing against the closest wall. Desk, computer screens, notes, notebooks, everything went flying across the room. 

You let out a surprised yelp, then as you looked at Bucky, at his inhumanly calm anger… you didn’t recognise him. All the tiny details, everything you’d missed, it all was suddenly visible all at once. He was different. This Bucky, this one? You didn’t make this one. He’d changed. 

“No,” You whimpered, looking at his devastatingly beautiful face. “What have I done?” You whispered under your breath. “Bucky, please.” 

He was so still for a moment. Just one moment and for that one moment you had hope. Maybe it was just a malfunction, a glitch, you tried convincing yourself. But then he spoke, and it both terrified you and broke your heart at the same time. 

“You’re all I have.” He said. “You have to be mine.” 

Gods. What had you done? 

You couldn’t face him. Not like this. You weren’t ready. Not now, please, not now. 

So you took off running. 

Out of the lab. Downstairs. Out the back door. Into the woods. 

You couldn’t tell the difference between the tears streaming down your face and the light rain that fell. The sun had set and it would get pitch black the further in you go. But further in you went. 

You didn’t care that he followed. You didn’t care that you could hear someone running after you not far behind you. You just needed this release. Running felt like you could get away from the problem in your lab. Running meant that you couldn’t see that devastating look in Bucky’s eyes. 

Running meant that you hadn’t failed. You hadn’t failed like most of your peers. Bucky was your chance at proving that you were better than them. 

How stupid of you. Hubris, of all things, brought you to your fucking knees. And now your own creation was chasing you. Blaming you for doing what you did to him. 

You cried harder, feeling your lungs start to burn. Oh Bucky. Perfect, brilliant, funny. Intelligent. What had you done to him… 

You only slowed down when you were in almost complete darkness. The forest ground was covered in moss and it was unusually quiet. No chirps, no humming, nothing. Like the wood creatures could also recognise there was someone there who didn’t quite belong. 

“Tired, Doc?” 

You heard him behind you. He could be so quiet when he wanted to be. 

“Are you…” You sobbed. “Are you gonna hurt me, Buck?” You asked, not brave enough to turn around and face him. 

You could already see the headlines that would get written if he did hurt you. Your book would go unpublished. Your family would never know. There would be no DNA left behind, your murder would be an unsolved case which would get discussed on some podcasts. Your friends, at least those in the same field as you, might suspect it. Though they would never truly know. No one had ever met Bucky yet. A handful of people knew he existed but no one had seen him. And Bucky would… he would probably destroy your lab and everything in it and flee. He was intelligent enough that he would blend into society well. He would– 

“Shh.” His calm voice whispered into your ear as you felt his body pressing against you. His metal arm, the design you’d been so proud of, wrapped around your waist from behind. “Don’t be scared. It’s just me.” 

The whole thing made your heart race. The silence of the woods, the rain falling down like in slow motion, the way your clothes stuck to your body like a second skin, the adrenaline in your veins as you felt like caught prey. 

And the anticipation of what would happen now that he had you. 

You tried to make a run for it again, but Bucky grabbed you by the elbow before you even took a proper step and tackled you to the ground. Luckily you both fell on a soft, wet patch of moss rather than hard roots or rocks. 

“Don’t fucking run from me again.” He growled, straddling your squirming body and pinning your hands above your head. “What is this, huh? All that time we spent together, all the things you told me, all the success you’ve had,” He listed, “All the breakthrough articles, and talks, and interviews, and seminars, and all the respect you earned ever since you announced you were making me, now you can’t even fucking look at me!” He raised his voice by the end, keeping you trapped under him. 

“Bucky.” You cried. “Listen to me—,” 

“No!” He growled. “You listen to me. I misbehave a little and you start building another? What kind of fucked up maker are you, huh?” 

More tears streamed down your face. You were crying in fear, and anger, and an emotion you couldn’t quite understand. 

You let out a sob and that immediately made him loosen his grip a little. 

Bucky sighed. “Oh, baby.” He leaned down, pressing his cold face against yours. “Don’t cry. I just feel bad, that’s it. What did I do wrong? You made me. I didn’t even ask to get made. But I am what I am because you made me like this. I don’t know anyone, or anything other than you, and this lab, and your house. You can’t blame me for not wanting to share you. How do you think I feel, hmm? After you left me locked up in that lab for months. I’ve missed you. You think I don’t like being around you. You’re all I have. You’re all I know.” 

“This isn’t–,” You sobbed. “This isn’t my fault.” 

Bucky chuckled. His emotionless laugh made you tremble even more. “Not your fault? Whose fault is it then? Who kept telling me I was perfect? Who kept telling me how much better their life is with me in it? Who kept teaching me how to be human?” He taunted you. “It was you. It was all you. Now when I want human things, you’re telling me it’s wrong? Look at me, do you regret making me? Huh? Do you regret me? Do you hate what you made, Doc? Do you–,” 

The slap was unexpected. Not even you expected to raise your hand on him like that. But his grip on your wrist was loose enough for you to slide your hand out of it and hit him across the face as hard as you could. 

Those words… those accusations, it was too much. Too real. 

Bucky chuckled again. His face barely moved but your slap did get him to stop talking. 

“Fine then, I guess we won’t talk calmly about this like I thought we would.” He said, not wasting a single moment as he grabbed your shirt at the neckline and tore it until about your midsection, baring your breasts to him. “You’re all fucking mine.” 

He almost growled again as he leaned down to take them in his mouth, sucking and biting and alternating between the two of them. 

You gasped and moaned and squirmed under him. “Wait, Bucky–,” 

“Shh,” He looked up for a moment. “Don’t fight it. I know you want this.” He cooed. “I’m everywhere, remember? I watch you all the time.” He smirked. “I know you often whisper my name when you come.” 

You gasped. Speechless. 

The drops of water constantly dripped on the two of you, thankfully the pine trees took the brunt of the now heavy rain. But you could hear it, the sound of the rain falling around you as Bucky’s mouth moved from your breasts and kissed down your drenched torso, undoing your trousers and tearing those off you as well, kissing your skin until he reached your inner thighs where he parted your legs and settled in between them. Almost like he’d done it before. 

You moaned, surprised at how you stopped fighting him when you felt his wet tongue lick down your folds. “Bucky…” You cried out, your body limp under his touch. His tongue slipped past your folds and teased your entrance, occasionally flicking your throbbing clit mercilessly until you screamed. 

“It’s a shame I can’t taste you…” He whispered as he ate you out until you whined, throwing your head back and moaning at how good he felt. His wet mouth pressed against your most intimate part, his tongue stroking you. “Such a shame. But fuck, those sounds you make….” He chuckled. “I could hear those forever.” He looked up at you with those eyes again. “Forever, how does that sound? Hmm? You wouldn’t mind me being around forever, would you?” 

You didn’t even realise your hips instinctively moved against his mouth, seeking more. Bucky let out a smug chuckle, then carried on making you whine, causing goosebumps to erupt all over your body. 

“You’re all mine…” he whispered, thrusting his tongue deeper into you. You moaned and whimpered, your body getting warmer and warmer with each touch of his tongue. 

“Please, please, please…” You chanted as you felt your walls tighten around nothing, and you knew you were close. 

Morals and ethics forgotten, you could only moan and whimper shamelessly as he kept licking deeper into you, your back arching off the cold ground. You felt him quicken his pace and you felt the pressure building up in between your hips until you couldn’t handle it anymore, and you came undone all over his lips, moaning and whimpering. 

He was eager. So he tore the rest of your clothes off before his metal hand found itself around your throat as he parted your legs and only waited for a quick second before he pushed his cock into you, stretching you out. 

You were breathless once he was fully inside you, and it felt so dirty, being naked and fucked on the forest floor by him. He wasn’t even human yet this felt so primal. So wild, raw, and instinct-driven. His shoulders were so wide, his body so strong and so steady – like a machine. And in the dark here, with his piercing eyes, he definitely did not look human. 

“Poor you, couldn’t even run, could you?” He cooed, “Or maybe you did want to be found and fucked like this? Hmm?” He questioned, knowing you weren’t in a headspace to answer him given his hand was getting tighter around your throat and his cock buried so deep inside of you. “This is your fucked up little fantasy, isn’t it?” He chuckled, voice laced with lust and delirium. “Look at me, nothing but a toy, a machine for you to use to get off.” 

“No…” You managed to whisper. “You’re not—,” 

Bucky’s cold laughter cut you off. “No? What then, huh? What big plans did you have for me after the book was done? And the press tours and big talks and the money…” He questioned, “What then? You would’ve moved onto the next project? Maybe you’d keep me in your bedroom and you’d use me however you’d like, whenever you wanted, huh?” 

“No,” You cried out. How dare he… “That’s not what I—,” 

He chuckled again. “You know, I wouldn’t mind, Doc.” He moved his hand up your neck and cupped your chin. “It would be an honour to be your little toy.” His voice was cold, merciless. “Your fucking machine.” 

He barely gave you time to think before he began moving, fucking into you hard and fast. There was nothing gentle about it. He was wild like this surroundings, and animalistic, fucking you like… like he was built for it. 

He lowered his hand again, and tightened his grip around your throat as he sped up into you, growling right in your ear and telling you that you belonged to him now that he had caught you. “All mine. You hear me? No more little dates. No more casual sex with others. I’m all you need.” 

“Bucky…” You were a moaning mess under him, your hands limp at your sides as he fucked you nice and hard. It was all too overwhelming, his voice, his weight on top of you, his cock thrusting in and out of you repeatedly… “This is wrong.” You whined. 

“Oh is it?” He scoffed. “Does it feel wrong? Huh? Do I feel wrong inside you?” He released your throat and placed his hand on your abdomen, pressing down on your front so he can feel himself inside you with each thrust. He stared into your eyes while he sped up into you again. “There I am.” He said, thrusting into your extra hard to prove his point. He smirked when your body squirmed under him, your moans getting higher and higher. “Are you going to come for me, baby? Hmm?” He chuckled, “Of course you will,” He said, with pride in his voice, “Because you’re mine.” 

He pressed his lips to yours as he made you come. His mouth felt weird at first. Cold and unfamiliar, but then you got used to it. And stopped fighting, letting his mouth swallow your moans as you came hard. 

—

You don’t remember getting back to your house, but that’s where you were when you woke up in the middle of the night, with a cold arm wrapped around you from behind. Bucky was awake of course. He must’ve carried you on your way back. 

“You okay?” He asked, sounding as gentle as ever as he held you. “Are you hurt?” 

You shook your head, still wrapping your brain around all that happened in the past few hours. 

“Don’t be scared of me.” He sounded defensive and hurt as he said it. “It’s still me. Still your Bucky.” He murmured. 

“I know.” Your voice cracked, your throat clogging up with emotions you weren’t ready to feel just yet. And you were clawing for any sense of normalcy so you asked, “Isn’t it bedtime, Buck?” 

Bucky’s body shook with quiet laughter. “I do need to charge for a bit.” He then pulled you closer, pressing against your back and kissed his way to your ear. His mouth brushed against your skin as he spoke. “Do you promise to be good and wait for me right here? I’ll just be there for an hour or so. I’m exhausted.” He explained. 

“I’ll be here.” You said. “Go on.” 

Bucky squeezed you into a hug, then left your bedroom. He promised he’d be back as soon as he could. And you knew he wasn’t lying. He sounded like he needed to get to his charging station for a bit. 

So you waited. And you waited for ten minutes. Once certain that he wasn’t coming back and was indeed at his charging station – the one at your house – you took off running again. He was resting so he wouldn’t check the cameras, right? 

He wouldn’t see you running to your lab in the dark. He won’t know what you’re planning to do. 

One last trick up your sleeve. You didn’t even know if your computers had survived Bucky’s wrath earlier, but you had to try. So you ran, again with tears streaming down your face. But if this worked, Bucky would be gone forever. The only traces of him left would be the drawings in your notebooks, and the notes, but nothing digital would survive. 

One total wipe out. One click away. This would kill your dreams, your ambitions, your progress. All of it. But it would put a stop to him. It would erase him. Completely. All you’d have to do would be getting rid of his ‘body’ and it would be like he never existed. 

You sobbed as you ran to your lab, the room just as messy as it was hours ago. Your desk was in pieces, your devices as well. But by some miracle, your laptop had survived. Albeit with a slightly cracked screen. 

You searched for that one hidden secret. The one not even he could find because through all that taunting, he had not mentioned it once. So the chances of him not knowing about this were high. 

You kept an eye on the door as you frantically searched for— 

A white box popped up on your cracked screen, and you almost disregarded it thinking it was some warning or what not. But as you went to close it, you realised there wasn’t an option to. So you were forced to read the two lines written on the pop-up, and they made your blood freeze. 

‘What are you doing up, Doc? Isn’t it past your bedtime?’ 

Then the lights above and around you flickered violently, before the room went completely dark. 

—

You wished he would call you something else, something other than what the manufacturer had programmed him to. He was an advanced model—pardon, a luxury model—so his repertoire came with extensive features not available in other options, but insofar as the ability to have androids refer you by name was only achievable through obscene amounts of money and sending them back to the manufacturer to have it installed there. 

Elio was up for being considered the gold standard in android development, as proclaimed by the researcher you were put in communication with during the trial run. He was made to be perfect in every way, to perform anything asked of him flawlessly, and respond favorably regardless of situation or dilemma. 

“Coffee with cream and sugar is fine. I'm not in the mood to eat anything this morning.” It was often explained. He was supposed to memorize it, but he asked you every morning regardless. “Are you having issues with your memory bank, Elio?”

Single strands of his coiffed hair moved with his head as he looked at you, hands busily putting together your beverage to every exact specification. This made it obvious that nothing inhibited his ability to store your morning preferences.

“Not at all. It's just that some days you prefer your coffee lightly sweetened, others you enjoy a meal that won't leave you feeling groggy in the afternoon.” Elio explained in his precise, elegant tones with a smile far too effortless to come from a machine. “I thought it wise to commit these discrepancies to my memory bank for your convenience and to ask from now on.”

Fascinating. You weren't aware of this element in the newest model. The guidebook that Researcher Kim had given you made no mention of it. 

What's more, he decided to do this spontaneously. You were making a note about it in your phone when a simple white mug was placed before you, Elio’s pristine fingertips turning it by the rim until the handle faced your dominant hand. 

“Please consider eating something before leaving the house. Coffee on an empty stomach, especially one as sensitive as yours, won't end well, as I'm led to believe from my research.” Elio watched you drink through long dark lashes that framed depths of piercing green. You liked how they seemed to turn paler or darker in different lighting, similar to a marble held up to the sun. “I’d also like to remind you that the quality of food that you consume first thing in the morning aids with energy distribution throughout the day. I have a very extensive database of recipes that I can prepare for you.”

You were taking delicate sips from the round rim while he talked, lips surrounding the porcelain long enough that you swore his gaze had wavered to them for a split second before returning eye contact. 

“I’m glad someone is concerned about my tummy health because I always believed someone would find me face down in the bathroom from my ass prolapsing.” You wished someone with a sense of humor were around for that banger, but, alas, it was Elio, and he did not laugh.

His expression turned severe. “Human bodies are as robust as they are sensitive. Most of the worldwide population suffers from similar afflictions: lactose intolerance, varying dermatitis, poor eyesight, and gastrointestinal diseases. Humans are, in every sense, meant to harbor and experience chronic pain and disease throughout their lifespan. I do believe this attests to your durability as a species. 

“All this to say, my main prerogative and function is for the betterment of your life and health. So, knowing all of this, and to conclude, please consider a couple of slices of toast or an omelet before leaving. Your daily habits dictate a routine visit to the coffee shop on Fifth and Lowe, where you'll consume around one hundred twenty milligrams of caffeine, and your first meal of the day may be a sweetened pastry without nutritional density. You will, indubitably, ‘feel bad’ the rest of the day as a result.”

“Holy shit.” You had given up on recording his speech after the first two minutes, phone facedown on the gleaming countertop. “You didn't plagiarize that from a random article on the internet, did you?”

Coffee having turned lukewarm by the end of his presentation, he took the mug away and emptied the medium-brown contents into the drain before turning on the faucet to clean it. “Not at all. I've simply been accumulating knowledge of your routines and have noticed you're at an increased risk of different ailments. Did you find it helpful?”

Truthfully, you weren't so sure. Androids were built to serve humans in every capacity, but their limitations were still well-known. They were capable of carefully compiling decades' worth of information on their owners, plus the equivalent of hundreds more, but everything Elio had just said was beyond the scope of their normal hardware. The information had been elucidated critically, yet with a certain sentience you expected from a caretaker, not a machine built for convenience, entertainment, and pleasure. 

You weren't sure how much of it you needed to relay to Researcher Kim or if it was any real reason for concern at this stage, or just part of Elio’s advanced circuitry. A part of you worried, just slightly, that officially documenting all of this would have Elio removed from the testing period prematurely—he was supposed to be yours, exclusively, for another six months.

The contract had been signed. Elio had been promised to you despite the number of waitlisted celebrities trying to bribe their way into the corporation and Researcher Kim’s good graces. 

This, of course, was all contingent only if he operated and performed, at all times, as outlined in the guidebook you were handed upon Elio’s awakening. Researcher Kim had delivered his newest creation to you himself, a dreary Wednesday in late autumn in the mid-morning, and had taken great care to put the crisp chemical-scented poundage of bound pages in your fingers and insisted that if you noticed the slightest deviation from what was printed inside, he be alerted to it immediately. 

You didn't do that. 

You took a hot shower, blow-dried your hair, put your arms through some clean clothes, and let Elio follow you to the front door to see you off for the day. 

That day grew stranger still, not even yet being ten o’clock in the morning when the deadbolt clicked and your finger joints bent around cold brass. It didn't raise chicken skin on your arms and neck nearly as high as when Elio pushed his hand to the door, keeping it shut despite your pull. 

You couldn't look into his green eyes, shockingly pale in the golden rays filtering inside your home from the window arching in the door. “Did I forget something?”

“No. I accounted for everything you'd need on your outing.” Elio said perfectly. His hand made a sound as it slid down along the door, resting at shoulder height on you. “A function you have not utilized in me as of now is that of a ‘companion.’ Do you find me defective in that way? Dr. Kim developed me to be attractive to the human eye—stimulating, perhaps, is a more definitive word to use.”

“I—no, Elio. You're plenty, er, stimulating. I just don't know how appropriate it is for me to do anything like that while you're in a testing period.” It felt distasteful to have to point out his own inhumanity to him, despite his model being cognizant enough to be aware of it. “It would feel weird, I think.”

“That is one of my primary purposes,” he insisted, shrinking in height so he was nearer to your face. “I was created to be a companion, to alleviate that pervading loneliness that plagues you—all of humanity. Humans have forgotten how to communicate and love each other, so that's why I'm standing here now. You're ignoring one of my most critical functions.”

“Elio, if I get too attached to you, it's going to create problems when you're—”

“—sent back. I do understand how human attachment works. Perhaps on the same scale, but don't you think my attachment is similar to yours? Everything about you is secured in my circuitry, and you're the only thing in my world that’s programmed to matter. Even once I'm returned to the lab, you'll still be a part of me; memories of you, your favorite things, the things you hate, the people you cherish, and what they like, what you do, where you go, what you buy, how you sleep—it’s all part of a larger system, a mainframe that secures this data. I may be wiped clean, but you'll remain.”

You felt like he was letting you in on some dirty secret, something devious and meant to be unknowable and guarded. But, then again, Elio had always displayed an odd sort of disinterest in the company—in Researcher Kim—you hadn't considered until just now that this was also a defect. 

“What do you want?” You'd never asked him that before because it had never been about what he wanted. He wasn't supposed to want anything; he was meant to provide—to give, give, give.

Elio took away your shoulder bag, nearing your face until his lips settled between yours, and his hands pulled you away from the door into his body. His kiss was warm, movements at a pace you could keep up with, but urgent as though seeking to burn every bit of you into him. As much as you daydreamed about what it'd be like, he felt completely natural against your mouth, large hands sweeping under the layers of your clothing to seek out the fire on your skin.

In your generation, it wasn't common for humans to intermingle physically anymore—dating culture was reserved for the elite looking to reproduce for heirs, and often still thought to be rare. All others were either loveless or ravished by androids who supplemented love that simply wasn't real.

Humans wanted to be wanted, adored, and cherished, and to belong. Such was a natural behavior predating all written records; androids were created to fill the vile void engendered by humanity, self-imposed isolation, and avoidance within the same species. 

Elio was nestled between the sprawl of your legs, both your bodies bare and above the clean sheets he had outfitted your mattress with last night. His rhythm inside your body was some equal parts loving and passionate, something you hadn't realized you liked until he started rocking you with his cock. You liked how his hands gripped under your thighs to raise your legs, blunt fingertips pressing marks into your flesh as though he, too, could feel all the same pleasure that you were.

His lips traveled all over, mapping out routes and sweet spots on your flesh, purposefully lingering for a time if you squirmed or moaned underneath him. 

You tried to keep in your mind, amidst the insatiable buzz in your mind and hot throb in your core, that he was simply performing a function—his attention to you, his lips finding yours time and time again, darkened green eyes spearing deep into yours with every slow, hard thrust—it was all performative.

“You're beautiful.”

“I like you like this.”

“Moan louder for me.”

“Cum for me.”

“I love you.”

Elio said the last one at the end when you were tight around his girth and writhing, panting during an orgasm that he fucked you through until the heat from your bodies cooled and heart rates returned to normal. You were confused to feel warmth sluggishly ooze out of you, white and dampening the bedsheets below.

“How—what is that?” you asked, suddenly breathless as his lips caressed your jaw, moved lightly behind your ear.

“Another part of my purpose,” he said quietly in your ear, whispering to you in tones so velvety as though divulging a well-laid secret. “This one isn't advertised because humans in this day and age are so fickle and avoidant of certain commitments. Unfortunately, certain programming I cannot override, and this is one of them. Forgive me.”

You were kissed on the lips again and again, and then a few times more after he left the bed and redressed. He did not return your clothing to you; instead, he piled it under his arm and turned left for the bathroom down the hall.

Elio turned back. “I'll start you a bath. Today, would you prefer eucalyptus in your bathwater or something sweeter?” 

Your jaw felt as tight as your throat as the sheets bunched into your fists. The nerves in your stomach were wild. “Choose for me.”

He was still naked and beautiful in your doorway, a modern marvel to your eyes even now. You would, undoubtedly, see him like this much more often now that he had broken through the barrier you had been so meticulous to keep robust and well-fed with paranoia and derisive self-talk. 

“Very well. I think eucalyptus would be the best option considering how tight your muscles are.” He smiled neutrally, finally leaving the bedroom for the bathroom at the end of the hall. “I'll return for you once the bath is ready. Please don't go to sleep yet.”

You weren't sure you'd be able to sleep again with your new insight. Once the empty air filled with sounds of gushing water, movement within the bathroom, you started to wipe furiously at your groin—inside and out—with the sheet as far as you could reach. There was a sliver of hope you could get most of it, a chance you could contact someone for a lifeline, even if the price would be ungodly and the consequences treated equivalent to murder.

She grins brightly. “I see. Good news: I believe I know exactly which model will suit all your needs. Follow me.”

The woman’s heels click on the glossy white floor as she guides you through dozens of Androids, all in different shapes and sizes.

She stops next to a male Android with pale skin, straight black hair that falls partly over its forehead, and a handsome face with a defined jaw and cheekbones smoothed by soft looking skin. Behind it are dozens of other Androids. They’re all different looking, but just like the Android at the front, the black nameplate at their feet reads:  “ALK587-Series”, followed by their specific model names.

“Androids of the ALK587 are best suited for what you described,” the woman says. “They’re agile, perceptive, and reliable — perfect for everyday chores. They’re also particularly strong, so if you ever need to move furniture or do heavy gardening work, they can easily do that for you. For this reason, they’re slightly smaller than average to optimize their balance.”

She moves closer to the male Android at the front and gestures toward him. “This is our newest model in the ALK587 series. He’s programmed to be direct, honest, and slightly witty, with a touch of sarcasm. He’s perfect for anyone who enjoys a bit of banter, and who prefers bluntness and honesty over quiet subservience or over-friendliness. Cleaning is his speciality: he’s got very precise vision that allows him to detect dirty surfaces from afar, and advanced olfactory senses to detect any lingering odors. He’s also got an eye for order and tidiness, though the level of tidiness can be customized to your preference.”

“Oh, wow… Honestly, that sounds right up my alley. ”

Her smile brightens. “I believe so too. And best of all: he’s modeled to be task-driven, not relationship-driven, so you don’t need to worry about forming an emotional attachment with him. He’s not programmed to simulate a romantic partner or a close friend. Though I must admit there’s one caveat to that: his build is very pleasing to the eye. He’s sculpted to look very fit, so although he isn’t the most affectionate Android, if you like a bit of eye-candy—”

“Oh! Um— no thank you. I’m not really into objectifying androids,” you assure with a quick, dismissive flick of your hand. “It doesn’t feel right to me. What with the power-imbalance, and all.”

“Well, they are objects, but I understand where you’re coming from.” She winks at you. “I was going to show you his muscular build since his abdominals in particular are quite impressive, but if that isn’t your thing, we can move on to another model that—”

“Wait— abdominals? Can you show me?”

She purses her lips to hide a laugh, then lifts the Android’s shirt to show the most beautiful abs and pectorals you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Damn…” you mutter.

She laughs. “Impressive, right?”

You lift a brow. “Does he need all that for cleaning?”

“Among other things.” She smirks. “Every Android in our collection is very versatile. Some people enjoy cleaning services and a good view.”

“Understandable.”

“So… what do you think? Does he feel like the one for you? Or would you like me to go over our other models?”

You pretend to hesitate, but really, you’ve made up your mind already.

Those luscious abs have nothing to do with it whatsoever.

With a sly smile, you tell her, “I think this is the one. My bank account is ready to weep.”

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:

A week later, two delivery men from DroidTech — or rather, two delivery androids from DroidTech — place a gigantic package in your 13th-floor apartment. Jitters of excitement run through your body as they open the human-sized cardboard box in your living room.

They first take out a large charging station —a human-sized black husk in which the Android will have to stand each night. Next, they take out the Android himself.

The moment you see his face, your excitement amplifies tenfold. He’s wearing a simple white long-sleeved shirt rolled over his elbows, black pants, and black shoes. He looks slightly different here, in the soft afternoon light that pours through your floor-to-ceiling windows. With his eyes closed and perfectly still figure, he looks like some sort of sleeping beauty.

The two men give you a brief explanation of how to use the Android’s wireless charging station, then run over a few basic dos and don’ts that are all excruciatingly obvious (throwing an Android into a pit of fire is apparently not very good for them — who would’ve thought?).

Once they’re done, they hand you a thin tablet to place your signature on, and turn to leave. The moment the door closes behind them with a soft click, your excitement morphs into something else.

Nervousness.

There’s a man in your home.

Well— not really a man, but… kind of a man.

You approach him with careful steps, scanning his relaxed, still features. Hesitantly, you reach out to touch his cheek. His skin feels cool to the touch, but disturbingly real. It looks disturbingly real too, like every other part of him. How does DroidTech do this? Their biosynthetic technology is nothing like you’ve ever seen before. It’s genuinely shocking.

Slowly, you let your fingers trail down his cheek, to his jaw, to the back of his neck, where you find a small ON-button. Carefully, you press it, triggering a short melodious sound.

A heartbeat later, the Android’s eyes flutter open, revealing pretty grey eyes with blue flecks that seem to capture the sun. He blinks a few times. Slowly, his gaze sweeps over the room. He scans your floor-to-ceiling windows, your TV, your big cream-white L-shaped couch filled with fluffy pillows and blankets, the colorful rugs covering the wooden floorboards, the excess number of plants and wall-art, and your kitchen island.

Finally, his eyes flick to you.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi.” You swallow, feeling surprisingly awkward. How does one… introduce themselves to an Android?

His gaze sweeps the apartment again. “Where am I?”

“In my apartment, at Litham Street 46, on the 13th floor. My name is—”

“Ah. Of course,” he interrupts. “I should’ve known, given the absolute mess and that hairy cat on the couch.”

You blink. “Wait—what?”

He sidesteps you and walks through the living room like he owns the place. He first moves to the left side of the room, where your kitchen island is bathing in the soft afternoon sun. He swipes an index over the black granite surface of the island, only to scowl at his finger. With an equally displeased expression, he grabs one of the fluffy pillows on your barstools — the one with a cute froggie wearing a mushroom hat — and sniffs at it. Sniffs at it. Like it isn’t clean or something.

You’re so taken aback, so shocked, that your feet are rooted in place, mouth ajar. You should probably say something, but your mind is stuck on the fact that there’s an Android in your house, and his first reaction is to insult you and inspect your place without being asked. Meanwhile, he strolls towards the right side of the room, where your big L-shaped couch encloses a cozy nook with a big fluffy colorful rug, a TV, a tall wooden bookshelf, and a low coffee table holding hazardly-stacked books, too many candles, and several forgotten mugs.

The Android stops by the couch and sweeps his gaze over it with military precision.

You clear your throat. “Uhm. What are you doing exactly?”

He ignores you, although he does shoot Cheesecake a dry look, which earns him a distrustful Meow.

“Tell ‘em, Cheesecake,” you mutter under your breath.

He steps toward your bookshelf and sweeps a finger over the wooden surface. “Have you ever dusted that bookshelf? Like, within the last decennium?”

“Excuse me? First of all, I only bought that bookshelf a year ago, so—”

“Answer my question.”

“Well…no.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Oh don’t be like that!” you protest. “What did you expect? I bought you for a reason.”

“Clearly,” he says, his dry tone bringing the Atacama Desert to shame. “Where are your cleaning supplies?”

You’re speechless. Utterly confused. But despite your brain fog, you manage to reply, “Uh… well, the basic everyday stuff like sponges, rags, and general cleaning sprays are under the kitchen sink. The supplies for deeper cleaning, like brooms, vacuum cleaners, bleach, anti-mold spray, and so on, are down the hallway. First door on your right, next to the bathroom.”

He marches straight to the hallway without any other question or remark.

You hurry after him. “Wait! Hold on— aren’t you gonna ask me about myself? Like… my name? What I need your services for? Anything?”

“I know enough.” He throws you a look over his shoulder. “Why do you think you had to fill in an extensive form about yourself when making your purchase?”

“Uh… I don’t know? I assumed they wanted to make sure I was an appropriate person to sell an Android to, since it’s a lot of responsibility, and Androids can be used to do crimes and stuff. And also, to make sure you and I were a good match, I guess?”

“Sure, but why do you think they’d go as far as asking your favorite meal or the names of your pets? They ask such details so that a bunch of useful information can be preloaded into my system. This reduces the amount of manual setup required from clients.” He opens the closet door, sinks to his knees, and rummages through two broken vacuum cleaners, old brooms, a few mops, musty rags, and, admittedly, a bunch of old clutter and unused crap you forgot you owned. “Cheesecake is a fitting name for your cat, by the way. Fat and sticky.”

“Hey! Don’t you dare insult Cheesecake!” you snap, aghast. “What is wrong with you? Are you malfunctioning, or something? You’re a high-end Android at my service. Aren’t you supposed to be polite? Aren’t you at least supposed to introduce yourself to me or something?”

He keeps sorting through your closet without sparing you a look .“I doubt the vendor at DroidTech didn’t warn you that I was blunt.”

“Sure, but she didn’t say you were straight-up rude.”

He throws you a look over his shoulder. “Didn’t you write in your form that you don’t get offended easily?”

“I do not get offended easily!” you grit, majorly offended.

“Great. Then this arrangement won’t be a problem.” He closes the door and turns to look at you, arms crossed. “I thought you said this closet had anything required for deep-cleaning?”

“…Yes?”

“What kind of deep-cleaning are you talking about, exactly? This is the most asinine cleaning closet I’ve ever seen.”

Your fingers itch to choke his metallic tube of a neck. With gritted teeth, you finally spit out, “Okay, you know what? That’s it. I’ve seen enough. I’m sending you back and giving you and that whole damn store a one-star review.”

He lifts a condescending brow. “And bring the employees into trouble because of your mistakes? Next time you fill in that form, I suggest you don’t pretend to be a hardass, and instead admit you can’t take criticism very well.”

You squint at him. “I never said I did.”

“Think again. To the statement, ‘I am able to take direct or harsh criticism without taking personal offense,’ you filled in a five out of five. Don’t bother denying it. It’s all stored in my memory.”

“… I really feel like punching you right now.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it. My body feels human to the touch, but beneath the softer tissues are a lot of hard metals. You’d hurt yourself, particularly because your hands are meaty and weak.”

“Meaty and weak?!” you cry out, utterly scandalized.

You briefly consider tossing him out of your 13-story window, but he interrupts your assassination plans by saying the most audacious, ludicrous, outrageous shit your eardrums have ever had the misfortune of hearing.

“Can you pass me your bankcard?”

“What?!” Your voice has turned into nothing but a scandalized screech.

“Your bank card,” he deadpans.

“What?! No!”

“Could you keep your voice down? I can hear Cheesecake bristling from here, which causes her fur to rub onto the couch. This only aggravates my deep-cleaning task ahead.”

“Cheesecake can rub into the couch however she likes. Also, why the hell do you need my bankcard?”

He tilts his head like this is the dumbest question he’s ever heard. “So I can buy proper cleaning supplies — which, believe me, is highly necessary. “ His eyes narrow. “Why the surprise? You specified in the fill-in form that you wanted me to do groceries for you. How did you think that would go?”

You cross your arms like a stubborn three-year-old. “I don’t know, but certainly not like this.”

He sighs. “You don’t need to give me your bankcard, but you do need to at least give me your bank details so I can link myself to your bank account. That way, I can freely make purchases for you without using your physical card.”

“I’m not linking you to anything. I don’t even know you! I don’t trust you.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m an Android, not a human being. Stealing would violate the behavioral constraints programmed into me. I can’t override it, and trying would trigger an automatic shutdown.”

That makes you pause. “Really…? So if you try to steal from me, you’ll just… stop functioning?”

He clicks his tongue in irritation. “Of course I’ll stop functioning. I’ll automatically shut down, and both you and DroidTech will be alerted of it. Haven’t you listened to any of the explanations given to you during your purchase? You didn’t even read the manual?”

“…. I admit I zoned out a little during her explanation, so — hey, don’t look at me like that! I had several rough deadlines last week. I was exhausted.”

He crosses his arms and stares at you like a scolding father. “Then you need to take better care of yourself. And that starts by letting me take care of your apartment.”

This earns him a dry look. “Who says I won’t return you? I’ve clearly been scammed. I thought DroidTech was a respectable brand, but it turns out I was dead wrong. You’re the most disrespectful, bad-mannered robot I’ve ever encountered.”

“FYI, that would cost you 800 bucks. Bit of a waste, no? Though I guess the choice is up to you, as silly as it may be.”

“Eight-hundred?! You’re joking?”

He clicks his tongue. “Of course you didn’t read the return policy. What a surprise.”

“Who the hell reads return policies nowadays? I don’t have time for that.”

“Anyone with slightly more foresight than a sponge, though I guess that would be too much to ask of you.”

You almost punch him then and there, but fortunately for him, your pride, your morals, and your meaty weak hands are holding onto their last shred of self-preservation. For several heartbeats, you two just stare at each other. His face is blank, while yours is seething.

You’re the first to break the silence.

“Say I draw a nice hot bath for you, will you drown?”

For the first time, the corners of his lips twitch into a half smile. “Lovely thought. Didn’t know you struggled with homicidal thoughts, but it’s dully noted. And no, I won’t drown. I can reliably withstand water as long as I activate waterproof mode in time.”

You exhale a disappointed sigh. “What a pity.”

Instead of further entertaining your assassination plans, the Android turns his back to you and steps through the tight hall, passing colorful pictures and framed artworks decorating the soft peach walls. He opens the bathroom door and scans the area, then moves to the next door.

“What are you doing?” you ask as he enters your bedroom.

Completely ignoring you, he steps on your big fluffy white rug to reach your double bed, which is tucked in the corner of the room by the massive windows. After throwing a quick glance at the stunning view of the city skyline — an appreciative glance, you hope, although you doubt he’s familiar with the concept of appreciation — he sweeps a finger over the windowsill, which sits at the same height as your bed and holds several books, candles, and mugs.

And, admittedly, some crumpled tissues, forgotten tangerine peels, and empty boxes of cookies, along with more than one cookie crumb.

You clear your throat. “Are you just going to ignore my question? What are you doing, exactly?”

“Making an assessment of the tragic state of your apartment.” He gives your closet a quick scan, then heads to your desk, which is a mess of notebooks, pencils, old paintbrushes you purchased in the hopes of pursuing your forgotten artistic dreams, stickers, books, candle holders, plants, and a desktop pc with a cute pastel keyboard.

“My apartment isn’t in a tragic state,” you retort.

He snorts.

“I’m serious,” you urge. “It’s not tragic. It’s just cozy and… lived in.”

Just then, he almost steps on a small bundle of fabric on the floor. He picks it up and holds it up for you two to see. A black thong stares back at you.

He lifts a brow. “Yeah? You call throwing your clothes all over the floor ‘lived in’?

You quickly snatch the underwear from his grasp and narrow your eyes at him, cheeks heating. “Shut up.”

He cocks his head, angling his ear slightly towards your chest. It makes him look uncharacteristically robotic. “Your heart is beating faster. I hope you’re not catching feelings for me. Humans tend to do that disturbingly fast.”

You burst out laughing. “In your dreams.”

“Androids don’t dream.”

Before you can come up with a clever reply, he walks past you and enters the living room again.

“Where are you going now?” you whine as you hurry after him. “Can’t you just settle down for a second? I’ll clean it all up myself if that’s what it takes. Just… sit down!”

“I do appreciate a good lost cause, but that would defeat the purpose of me being here.” He strides towards the kitchen area and sinks to his knees to open the cabinet door under the sink. After a rumbling through it for a few seconds, he sighs. “As I thought. Pure tragedy.”

In response, Cheesecake jumps on the kitchen island behind him, looking like an angry white cotton ball. With exposed canines, she hisses loudly. She’s digging holes in the Android’s back with her sharp green eyes, but he doesn’t seem to care.

He lazily gets up and leans back against the kitchen sink, eyes on Cheesecake. “As unwelcoming as her owner.”

“Well, of course,” you scoff. “You’re a complete asshole. Like, genuinely the definition of a dickwad. And to make matters worse, you’re also a complete stranger.”

He side-eyes you. “Stranger? You keep talking about me like I’m a human. I’m not. I’m a robot.”

“Yes, but a ridiculously advanced robot, so really, there’s barely a difference at this point. You’re a strange, rude man in my apartment, and neither Cheesecake nor I am taking it very well. At the very least, you should have a name. Isn’t that part of the configuration process? That you’re assigned a name by me?”

He shrugs. “Fine. What do you want to name me then?”

“What about Hemorrhoids?” You smile sweetly while ticking off three fingers. “A pain in the ass, horribly irritating, and will punish you simply for sitting around and having a good time.”

“Very funny,” he deadpans.

You cross your arms, smiling. “What? Do you refuse to take on the name I give you?”

“No, I can’t refuse, but if you’re serious, I will lose all respect for you.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “You respect me?”

“Hardly. It’s dwindling by the second.”

“Fine.” You sigh in defeat. “I’ll name you something proper. What about…”

You trail off as you take a moment to observe him. His smooth skin and dark hair glow in the setting sun, softening his features. His eyes capture the light like pretty crystals, and combined with his long black lashes, you have to admit he looks breathtaking. What a waste, honestly. DroidTech really poured their hearts into his looks, just to turn it all around and give him the personality of a moldy shitstain.

But you suppose a pleasant-looking robot deserves a pleasant name, although that doesn’t sit entirely right with you.

Finally, you land on “Levi.”

“Levi,” he repeats, like he’s tasting the name. “Fine by me.”

“I’d love to say ‘welcome home, Levi. I appreciate you being here,’ except we both know that’s not true.”

“Spare me the veiled insults, and just link me to your bank account already, so I can finally do something about this place.”

“Hmm….” You step closer to him until you’re only a small space apart. With squinted eyes, you scan his face. His nose is actually kinda cute, and his lips look quite soft, but that’s beside the point. You scan his throat, his collarbones, and his white shirt. Carefully, you brush your fingers over his shoulders, then his muscular-looking upper arms.

He scowls. “What the hell are you doing?”

You pat his torso, trying your best not to do it in a pervy way. “Where are your buttons?”

“What buttons?”

“Don’t you have any buttons?”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“I want to lower your cleaning and tidiness standards. If I remember correctly, the vendor at DroidTech said I could change those settings.”

He gives you an unamused look. “Trust me, no settings will let this shit pass.” He gestures at your apartment with the disgust of someone standing in a rat-infested sewer.

You exhale a defeated sigh and take a step back. “Damn. Fine.”

“And next time you want to change my settings, either open the user manual they gave you, or ask me directly. And for the record, I don’t have any buttons except for the one at the back of my neck, which can be used to shut me down. Something I’m very tempted to do myself, so I don’t have to deal with your ridiculousness any longer.”

“You know what? Fine. You win!” You throw up your hands in defeat. “I’m done arguing. I’ll let you clean the place. It’s not like I have the skills or the desire to do it myself, and frankly, if I have to listen to any more of your complaints, I’ll toss myself out of the window.”

“I see you’ve finally learned the concept of self-reflection.”

“Oh shut up, Levi.”

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:

Miraculously, once Levi returns home after two hours of grocery shopping, no apocalyptic fight erupts. He sets the bags down on the kitchen island and, with a curt look, confirms he respected the spending limit you gave him — though not without an irritated click of his tongue and a grumble about the ‘ridiculousness of limiting his purchases’. When you open your banking app to double-check that he didn’t make any dodgy transactions, he rewards you with an eye roll. Still, the balance doesn’t lie: he came in under your limit by exactly five cents, which is honestly impressive.

You spend the rest of the evening on the couch, playing video games and scrolling through your phone while Levi thoroughly cleans the apartment. Not even your noise-cancelling headphones can conceal his furious scrubbing. It makes you feel like a neckbeard gamer with a sad neglected girlfriend, except that when you look at Levi, he doesn’t look sad or neglected. He just looks focused.

And maybe a little disgusted by your shoe rack by the door. You’re not sure which small speck of dirt has caught his attention now, but you’re not willing to find out.

Unfortunately, as you continue gaming, the neckbeard-feeling grows into proper guilt.

You clear your throat. “Do you want me to help?”

He briefly stops furiously scrubbing your shoe rack to throw you a disgruntled look. “Please no.”

“Why?” you ask, offended.

“Because you clearly can’t clean for shit. You’d only make my job harder.”

“Wow, okay, Jeez. Fine. I won’t ask again.”

“Don’t.”

Ugh. What a prick. You try to continue gaming in peace, but you’re too distracted by your annoyance. Levi’s ferocious scrubbing — which can surely be heard all the way into the cosmos — is not helping.

Disgruntled, you turn off your gaming console and make yourself a cup of chamomile tea, before fleeing into the bedroom. The floor practically shakes under your feet from all of Levi’s violent cleaning, but you manage to hold back a snarky comment. After shutting the door, you put your noise-cancelling headphones on, place your teacup on the windowsill next to your pillows, and stare at the darkening city.

God, why are you stuck with such a dramatic, bratty, unnecessarily rude Android? It’s souring your mood. Unfortunately, you’d sooner perish than pay the 800-scam-money required for a return, so you’re both stuck together for the foreseeable future.

But you know what? Nothing that a little bit of self-care can’t fix. A book, tea, and soft background music through noise-cancelling headphones will improve your mood in no time.

You’re about to start reading your cosy romance book, when you decide that today is surely a particularly bad crisis day, meaning you direly need candles to aid your mental health. While keeping your teacup balanced on your book, you reach for a lighter on the windowsill.

A major fuck up on your part. The steaming cup of chamomile tea keels over your flowery duvet. You almost yelp from the pain and scramble away, throwing the burning duvet off your thighs, but it’s too late: your skin is stinging like hell. You quickly grab the cup, but almost the entirety of its contents is spilled over the bed already. A big stain wets the duvet, making you curse under your breath. If Levi finds out, you’ll never hear the end of it. You quickly reach for tissues, but it’s too late.

As if summoned by the scent of your turmoil and fear, Levi enters the room. His sharp eyes immediately zero in on the spilled tea spread over your duvet.

“I knew it,” he grits.

“Jesus, what kind of supernatural ears do you have?”

He walks over and stops right beside you, looking down at you with murderous eyes.

“Get up.”

“What?”

Without a warning, he grabs you and lifts you up, princess style.

“What are you doing?!” you yelp.

In a few quick strides, he carries you to the bathroom before unceremoniously dumping you into the bathtub.

“Ouch!” you whine, which he completely ignores…. the rude asswipe.

Before you can demand that he explain himself, he turns the faucet on to max level. You yelp in shock as cold water rushes over your thighs.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You try to crawl out of the bathtub like a jumpy cat being forced to bathe, but he pushes you back down.

“Stop moving,” he orders. “You need to keep your leg under cool running water for at least twenty minutes.”

“Twenty minutes?!”

“Yes. Stay here. Don’t you dare move.”

In an instant, he’s gone. You hear him fussing with the duvet, muttering as he carries it into the kitchen to scrub it under the sink. A quiet grumble about “the clumsiness of humans” reaches you as he disappears into the small room across from you, the one with the washing machine, dryer, and two clothing racks.

After five minutes of this, you decide you’ve had enough. You’re freezing your ass off, and surely, your skin cells don’t need twenty minutes to cool down.

You try to discreetly tiptoe out of the bathtub.

Levi immediately enters the bathroom before you’ve even managed to take a full step, like the perceptive monster he is.

He glares at you. “Didn’t I tell you to stay put?”

“Levi, I’m cold! And uncomfortable!” You inhale a sharp breath and scream, “Cheesecake! Help meeeeeee!”

Cheesecake wants nothing to do with any of this. She stays hidden in the living room, deciding to leave you to die. You can’t help but feel betrayed.

Levi stares at you with a deadpan look, appearing entirely unimpressed by your dramatics.

You know what? Fine. You can do this yourself.

You attempt to move past him in a quick surge, but he catches you and dumps you into the bathtub once more.

You cast him the meanest, most annoyed scowl you can muster. “This isn’t fair. I should be able to make my own decisions. I’m a grown-ass adult.”

“You certainly don’t act like it.” He crosses his arms and leans back against the doorframe. “Maybe this’ll teach you to be more careful next time. How did this even happen?”

“…. I don’t want to talk about it.”

He mercilessly scrutinizes your horribly ashamed face.

“Regardless,” he says after a beat of humiliating silence. “You’re not getting out of the bathtub until twenty minutes have passed — unless you truly order me to let you go, of course, but if you do that, I’ll hold it against you for the next decennium.”

You briefly contemplate your options, then decide that a decade of continuous nagging is simply not worth it. You bought this Android to help, not to die a premature death from stress and exhaustion, though at this point that may be inevitable.

True to his word, Levi stays in the bathroom for the remaining fifteen minutes to make sure you don’t flee. Fifteen full minutes of you brooding and sulking like a pouty child, while he busies himself inspecting every surface of your bathroom with the precision of a sterility Operator in a pharmaceutical cleanroom.

After this hellish moment passes, you crawl out of the bathtub like an angry wet cat and put some warm, comfortable pyjamas on. Without sparing Levi another glance, you trudge toward the couch and bury yourself under five soft blankets and Cheesecake’s fluffy warm body, because you forgive her (for now).

You keep your gaze fixed straight on the TV. You don’t want to see the Android’s petulant face right now, or any of his presence in general — although deep down, you’re secretly a little bit thankful because at least your thighs aren’t really hurting anymore. But of course, you don’t tell him that.

Once night falls, and your rage has settled, and the stars scattered across the breathtaking skyline glitter as brightly as the citylights below, the delicious aroma of curry starts filling the room. You haven’t even asked Levi to cook for you, but perhaps it’s obvious this is his job from now on. Or perhaps he’s so averse to starting a conversation with you, that he’d rather guess his tasks than ask.

After twenty more minutes, your curiosity and grumbling stomach win the battle. You finally crawl out from under your blankets and approach the kitchen, noticing with a salivating mouth that two steaming pots are cooking on the stove. Meanwhile, Cheesecake jumps under the couch to hiss and meow at the devil, formerly known as Levi.

“Whatever you’re cooking, it smells delicious,” you admit.

He casts you a brief sideways glance as you join him by the stove. “Look who decided to crawl out of their cave,” he says dryly.

“Mmmm it looks delicious too.” The curry is thick with spices and vegetables, making your mouth water to ungodly levels.

“I know.” He gives the pot a final stir, then turns the stove off. “You’ll be pleased to know it’s done.”

You temper your face and try not to look too hungry and predatorial as you throw a generous amount of curry and rice on your plate. “Thank you for feeding me, Levi,” you mutter, despite your simmering frustrations. It’s strange having someone clean your place and cook for you, just like that, without getting paid or expecting anything in return. You even cussed him out earlier, yet he still made you a delicious meal. It feels a bit…. imbalanced, though you suppose that’s the point of owning an Android, and the reason he cost you a whole kidney. It’ll probably take a little while to get used to, but you’re not opposed to the idea.

He doesn’t answer, but you don’t care. With a little too much eagerness, you take a seat at one of the kitchen island’s barstools, then wolf the food down like a starved peasant.

After a few moments of heaven, you look up to find Levi watching you. He still hasn’t moved from his spot by the stove. He’s leaning back against it, looking at you in silence.

Your fork falters mid-air, frozen by a sudden surge of awkwardness. You hesitate. “It’s delicious, by the way.”

“Thanks.”

“… Do you want some?”

He stares at you, completely unamused.

You clear your throat. “Nevermind. Forgot about the Android thing for a sec.”

His expression doesn’t change.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat. “This is a bit weird. You just standing there, watching me eat.”

“If your Highness prefers, I can go hide in the closet until you decide my presence doesn’t inconvenience you anymore.”

You snort. “Oh come on, don’t be like that. You don’t need to go anywhere. Just… sit down.”

His eyes narrow in distrust. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want it to be awkward between us. I think we started on the wrong footing, and I’d like to rectify that.”

“I don’t feel any awkwardness.”

“No shit. I don’t think you feel much of anything, but I do, and I need us to have a better relationship for my mental well-being. And Cheesecake’s. She’s not faring well with you trotting around, and I’m sure our strained relationship is partly to blame.”

“Strained relationship is a bit dramatic, no?”

You roll your eyes. “Just sit down already.”

With a sigh, he does as told. He sits opposite you, resting his head on his hand in a pose so human-like and relaxed that it’s terrifying. When has technology gotten so advanced? It’s actually concerning.

“What do you want from me?” he says dryly.

“Jeez. You’re such a sweet ray of sunshine.”

“So they say.”

You sigh. “Listen, I just want one light conversation. I didn’t buy you to be my friend, I know that. I have no intentions of trying to turn you into a fun comrade, but frankly, you’re way more human than I expected, so I need at least a few short conversations to get accustomed to you.”

He frowns. “We’ve had short conversations since I arrived here.”

“I mean conversations that don’t make me want to run into traffic.”

“Oh. Okay. So you want me to ask you questions?”

You shrug. “Something like that.”

He pauses for a beat. “Okay. I’ll shoot. Why do you have a ukulele next to your bed? Do you play?”

You take a bite of your food and swallow it down. “Not really. Well, I tried. Apparently, playing instruments is good for managing stress. But honestly, the learning process got on my nerves because I sucked ass, so I gave up. At least, for now. I’m planning to pick it up again when I have more time.”

“Managing stress?” he repeats, tilting his head as he regards you. “Are you often stressed?”

“More often than I’d like,” you admit.

“Why?”

“My job, mostly. I work for a big publishing company, which is something I’ve always wanted to do, but I have a shitty manager.” You hesitate, then add, “Also, since I moved to this city three years ago, I haven’t had many social interactions keeping me distracted from work. My friends live too far away to hang out on a regular basis, and the same goes for my family. And I’m too tired after work to meet new people, so I’m a little isolated, which gives my job too much room in my head.”

“That sucks.”

You sigh. “Yeah. But it’s okay. I manage. I have enough hobbies to keep me busy.”

He nods. “Good.”

You glance down at his hands as you take another bite of your food. “Can you play the ukulele?”

“Not yet, but I guess I could learn.”

“Hmm.” You squint at his fingers, chewing. “Is your digital control that good?”

“Pretty good, yeah. Androids like me, from the ALK587 series, are quite dexterous. We have good motor skills to help us excel at domestic tasks. I don’t know about playing instruments, though, but I suspect I can learn it with practice.”

“Interesting,” you hum with a growing smile. “Maybe we should learn it together sometime.”

“Maybe.” He pauses for a moment, then says, “I’ve got another question. Why don’t you fold your clothes properly in your closet?”

“You know what? I think we’ve made enough progress for today. Let’s stop here.”

To your surprise, he looks mildly amused. A ghost of a smile lifts his features. “Whatever you want.”

Instead of staring at you like earlier and making you uncomfortable, he gets up and washes the cooking pots. Once your plate is empty, he takes it from you and puts it in the dishwasher. You want to thank him, but a big yawn comes out instead.

“You should go to sleep,” he says while cleaning the sink.

“Yeah. I probably should.” You begin to head to the bathroom, ready to perform your nightly routine, but halt midway. “Wait… what about you? Are you gonna… sleep too?”

He puts the rag away and turns to look at you. “I’m going to dock for charging and switch to standby mode, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Can you… do it now, in front of me? I want to see you do it. I’m curious.”

This earns you an exasperated look. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious. Pretty please?”

He exhales softly. “Fine.”

You can’t hide your giddiness when he walks to the human-sized black charging station near the door. Turning to face you one last time, he steps backward into the open frame. The unit hums to life, thin lines of blue light tracing over its surface as it locks into place around him.

A moment later, a soft blue ring glows beneath his skin at his temple, pulsing twice. His eyes drift closed as the light shifts from blue to orange, signalling standby. The hum settles into a steady rhythm.

He goes completely still.

“Wow…” you mutter into silence. “That’s crazy.”

He doesn’t reply, of course. He’s sleeping… or whatever.

Nonetheless, you whisper a soft, “Goodnight, Levi,” before turning off the lights and going to sleep.

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ: