#cyberdad

The king sized futon was barely big enough for Maxima to recline on by his lonesome, even in his considerably less bulky civilian body. Tonight it was almost cramped with two more bodies.

Pressed flush against one of his sides, Kula listened with rapt attention as he read aloud the book she’d given him. It was some teen fantasy novel, just as full of silly love triangles as it was of action. The latter was what Kula demanded he skipped to, and he was grateful for it. Her rapier-wielding guardians could cover the romance stuff if ever she became interested in such things. Better the women in a happy and stable relationship taught her than the man who’d been previously married to undercover vengeance for several years, he figured wryly.

Kula’s magenta eyes glittered as he brought the battle between the heroes and an undead horde to life. She clung to the arm wrapped loosely around her middle as eagerly as the words from his mouth; completely enraptured. According to her, he did better voices for the characters than Foxy and Diana. And not just for the times he took advantage of his synthetic vocal chords to literally change the way he sounded. Although that certainly helped, he supposed.

Meanwhile, on his other side, K’ had slumped against him bonelessly at some point during the storytelling. He’d been reluctant to even join them initially, and stiff when he first got settled, trying to maintain what scant distance he could. Now, however, his head had come to rest against Maxima’s chest, cheek getting smushed in the process. There was also a gross, wet undertone to his breathing that made Maxima pause in his reading. Lifting the book to investigate revealed that there was an expanding patch of drool on his shirt from K’’s open mouth.

Maxima’s nose wrinkled, but he couldn’t help but smile. Gross as it was, and much as he lamented having to rewash a freshly cleaned nightshirt, the sight was honestly relieving.

There was always something keeping the poor kid awake. If it wasn’t his flames being “noisy”, as he put it, it was nightmares. And if it wasn’t nightmares, it was chronic pain - which was the main offender of the past few nights. Any sleep K’ got was precious, and it seldom tended to be deep enough for him to become so utterly relaxed as this. With nary a grumpy wrinkle in sight, it was almost looking at a completely different person.

Maxima glanced over to Kula. Her eyes flicked from the slumbering K’’s face to his own. The soft smile she’d been wearing during her observation turned into a glowing beam. He returned the smile, raising a finger to his lips. She nodded her understanding, wriggling into a more comfortable snuggle against his side, and arm shifting to loop around his midsection in a hug. She whispered a soft goodnight and was met with an equally soft reply.

The page was marked, then Maxima carefully stretched his arm past K’ to set it aside without jostling him. Unprecedented as it was, the swashbuckling was going to be put on hold for the night earlier than usual. But that was fine. Neither Maxima nor Kula could begrudge K’ for indulging in a rare and much needed rest. The three of them functioned as a unit, caring for each other to the best of their abilities. If one member was down, the others picked up the slack and tended to them as best they could.

The lights in the room dimmed, gradually plunging the trio into darkness, with a casual thought. Their apartment was wired with all kinds of electronics to interface with. They were a safety precaution; an initial line of defense to trip up would-be intruders after the secrets in their bodies. They were also convenient for moments like this in which the cyborg couldn’t, or didn’t want to, move.

There was a pause in K’’s steady breathing when Maxima gently draped his other arm around his body in a mirror of the loose hug he had Kula in. He began to worry it might have woken K’ up until the steady (and still gross and wet) breaths resumed as normal. Seemed as if he’d been sufficiently lulled to rest by either Maxima’s storytelling prowess, or the faint humming of his nuclear heart, or both.

Maxima’s heat sensors picked up a slight rise in temperature, numbers ticking up inside his hardware-filled skull. They held steady, the human heater slumped against him unconsciously maintaining the kind of gentle heat reminiscent of a warm blanket. He held back a chuckle - barely - but couldn’t suppress his smile at the darkened ceiling.

Single sentence warmups. Also accepting them here.

“Maxima and Kula, homework.”

/-/-/-/

/-/-/-/

Mellow

Reyna didn’t understand half of the technobabble coming from Maxima’s mouth, but she urged him to keep speaking just for the sake of listening to his voice.

Smoke alarm

In attempting to be nice for once and make his mom breakfast, he forgot he couldn’t cook without burning most things to high hell... now the entire crew - her included - was pissed at him.

Extraction

“It’s not like you to be so reckless,” Foxtrot growled, bullet number three hitting the metal tray, “unless something’s eating you up inside.”

Shield

Fragments of purple scattered, the sound of it shattering almost deafening.

Repetition

“Play time” today consisted of him halfheartedly tossing a ball at the wall, but Starbuck didn’t seem to tire of it.

Wiggling

It was all fun and games, laying on his back and chuckling at Starbuck’s excited flailing above his head as he held her up, until she peed on his face.

Blood

It frustrated him that he couldn’t help by giving her a transfusion; despite being family, he was immediately out of the question of being a candidate because the fire in his veins would kill her from the inside, as it had others.

Unexpected

“Huh... since when were you into gaming, kid?”

Irritation

Of course the moment she walked in on him streaming, all his viewers shifted their starstruck attention towards her.

Jelly

“Yeah yeah, it’s very funny and wiggly... but I need you to eat it, not keep smacking it with the spoon, so I can start getting you ready for bed.”

Inconsolable

“How the fuck am I supposed to make things up to him-” she sobbed into her glass, tears and snot dripping inside to mingle with half melted ice cubes and a trickle of watery whiskey, “-when me giving him away ruined his fucking life like that?”

Hug

When Maxima gathered him in his arms it was like being engulfed by a brick wall, and his heart hummed, not thudded, under K’’s ear... but it reminded him of.... something.... that stirred tears.

Sloppy

Foxtrot growled in annoyance, brandishing one of the pieces of sliced potato between two claws; “You didn’t peel any of these properly, you little shit!”

Preference

“Fuck you, Sharkface, it tastes better with the skin,” K’ snapped back.

Underwear

The puppy had gotten into the laundry again, as evidenced by fluffy ears poking through the leg holes of one of her lacier numbers so that they sat on her fuzzy head like a weird hat.

Snowstorm

This weather was unnatural, even for Bliss on its worst days... could it be that girl again...?

Mutilate

“How’s about we rip that silver tongue of yours out so’s you can’t ever scam poor honest bastards like us out of a decent profit again, Valkyrie,” her captor sneered, brandishing a nasty pair of forceps.

Finesse

K’ crumpled the wonky, incomplete, paper crane and threw it aside with a frustrated curse; mom told him to get a hobby that didn’t involve breaking someone’s teeth in, but try as he might, this wasn’t the kind of activity he could entertain doing anymore with his stupid gauntlet in the way.

Overweight

Had she been packing away too many burgers recently, or was something else afoot?

Weakening

He really hoped the next finger of her glove her burned through would be the one to jolt her back to consciousness... it was getting difficult to make his hand spark up with how much blood he’d lost from the debris piercing him through.

Rain

She couldn’t bring herself to care that she was being soaked through and chilled to the bone, because then she could trick herself into thinking it was the downpour pelting her face that was making her eyes burn, and not the distressed screams behind her making her heart break.

Familiar

Somehow, the various creaks, hums, and groans of the Fortune’s Favour managed to lull him to sleep on the couch.

Assassin

Maxima‘s expression was downright frigid as the “nurse’s” wrist creaked under the pressure of his grip, syringe slipping from her limp fingers; voice equally frigid, he stated: “Miss Valeria isn’t due for another dose of painkillers yet.”

Brave

"There you go, Princess,” Maxima grinned, sliding a plate stacked high with waffles across the table. It came to a clean stop in front of Kula, just as he'd calculated it would. The girl's magenta eyes sparkled gleefully at the offered bounty. "Eat up."

She was all too eager to oblige. Pale fingers tore off the lid of the icecream tub sitting by her elbow, tossing it aside with a clatter. Her spoon went in, then emerged with a scoop twice the size the utensil was supposed to hold. She pushed it off with a finger, onto the top of her waffle stack, and dived back into the tub for another scoop. And another. And another, still. A small river of syrup followed on its heels, liquid gold sliding over the mounds of icecream and off the sides of the waffles like a sugary waterfall. A small handful of strawberries were tossed on top as a last minute afterthought before Kula dug in with gusto. The first portion she cut away barely fit in her mouth, and a tiny trickle of syrup and partially melted icecream escaped from a corner as she chewed. Foxy and Diana would have scolded her for being messy if they were here, but she couldn't help it. Uncle made the absolute best waffles!

Maxima watched the girl chow down with amusement over the rim of his coffee. "It's not going to run away, you know. Take your time and enjoy it." Kula did slow down at his behest, albeit begrudgingly. Though she continued to shovel too-large mouthfuls of syrup-and-icecream-soggy waffles into her mouth, to which Maxima rolled his eyes. She must have caught the action, because she poked her tongue out at him in retaliation. He pulled a face at the partially eaten food stuck to it. "Don't be too cheeky, now. Or I'll give your seconds to K' instead."

"He doesn't even like waffles," she pointed out after swallowing that mouthful, cheeks puffing out into a pout. He may still eat them anyway if he was feeling spiteful, though; he did that to get a rise out of her, every so often. So just to be safe, Kula inched her plate closer towards herself, hunching over it protectively. It was then that a realisation struck her. She frowned, slowly uncurling again to peer down both ends of the table. They were empty. "Where is K', anyway? Is he still sleeping?" That wasn't like him. For all his laziness and late nights, he was always up and dressed long before she was. Something must be wrong...

"He is." Maxima confirmed. "He's not feeling well."

Kula frowned at the news. "Did I hit him too hard during training yesterday?" He hadn't been fighting as well as he usually did - had seemed rather out of it, looking back on it, actually... - and as a result, she'd managed to get a few good hits in that he normally would have blocked or dodged easily. Her hits were always hard, even when she held back. And K', for all the genetic manipulations to his body, was weaker than she was in the grand scheme of things, so he always got hurt more. Because he was a natural-born human with artificial parts stitched haphazardly, unstably, into him. Whereas she was purely artificial, constructed with perfection in mind, her powers a natural part of her.

Maxima shook his head. "No, no. I meant that he's ill." He paused briefly in consideration, then added, "... Though I think he's still recovering from that chest kick, too."

Kula winced, recalling the distinct crack of ribs from that particular blow she'd dealt. Magenta eyes were cast meekly downward at her half-eaten food. She liked Maxima, and he liked her too; they shared a mutual love of sweets, and he doted on her like the kind uncle she'd christened him as. But he had a softer spot for K'. They'd worked together longer, and been friends – partners in crime – for a couple of years before she had even entered the picture, after all. And sometimes, when he thought nobody was paying attention, he looked at K' the same way Foxy and Diana looked at her; like family he loved very much. "I’m sorry..."

She let out a mild noise of protest when she felt a huge hand ruffling her hair just a smidge too hard for her liking.

Maxima retracted his hand with a chuckle. He let it rest on the table, next to his coffee, and offered her a kind smile when she looked up at him. "It's fine, Kula. Accidents happen. Though you should really be apologising to K', not me."

An uncertain hum passed Kula's lips. Her fork was twirled absently through the sludgy mess of melted icecream and syrup on her plate. Apologising to K' on a good day was hard enough. But past experience had taught her that trying to do so while he was injured was almost as painful as pulling out teeth, since the inactivity of forced bedrest always made him a million times grumpier than usual. She released a weary sigh. "I'll try, Uncle. But he'll probably just tell me to go away..."

"That's all I ask." Maxima reached for his coffee, bringing it towards his lips for a sip... Then paused. A little smile brought the corners of his mouth curling upwards into a peculiar grin. As though he knew something she didn't. "You never know though, Princess. He might just surprise you."

She cocked her head, releasing a questioning hum as she did so; asking for elaboration. Maxima didn't say anything more on the matter though. He simply went back to enjoying his coffee, eyes still glittering mirthfully at her over the rim of his mug because of whatever secret it was he was keeping close to his chest. Kula huffed at him, returning to her breakfast moody but curious.

One finished plate of waffles and a clean face later found Kula shuffling uncertainly in front of K's door, despite her misgivings. She moved away briefly to poke her head around the corner and peer into the kitchen, hoping Maxima and his comforting presence might instill some courage in her for the task ahead. Or for him to take pity on her, and let her slip out of it. Unfortunately, his back was to her. And, judging from the soft humming as he washed the dishes, he was too completely engrossed in his task (or pretending to be) to notice her. Kula sighed in resignation, padding back toward's K's door. Well, here went nothing. She twisted the knob and pushed the door inwards as slowly and quietly as possible. On the other side, his room was dark, save for the gradually expanding sliver of light pouring in from her side of the open door, as well as the outline of his window from behind thick drapes drawn tightly closed.

"K'?" She called out softly. Not so much as a grunt of acknowledgement answered her. Kula licked dry lips uncertainly. "Um. I'm coming in, okay?"

She slipped in, squishing the short carpet between her toes; with every mincing step taken towards K's bed, Kula expected him to suddenly bark out in annoyance and demand she leave. Instead, the blanket-bundled lump where she assumed he was wrapped up didn't stir. In fact, there continued to be a distinct lack of movement from K', up until the moment she stood at the head of his bed, peering down at him uncertainly. Even with the lack of good light, her eyes were keen enough to pick up the beads of sweat dotting his temple, and the knit between his silver brows. He shifted as though stirred by her scrutiny, cracking open a hazy blue eye that rolled up in her direction.

"What?" he asked, voice thick and groggy.

This was it: Apology Time. She just had to say she was sorry for breaking his ribs during training yesterday and she could go. And if he started yelling at her, well. That would be even more incentive to beat a hasty retreat. Easy peasy.

"You look really hot," she blurted out. Which was... definitely not an apology. But her motor mouth kept going, anyway, much to her alarm and mild horror. "Do you want some icecream?"

He blinked at her – Once. Twice. – looking and sounding utterly confused. "Uhh... no?"

"Oh." Of course he didn't. He didn't like icecream; hated sweets in general, honestly. And she knew that, but her mouth apparently had a mind of its own right now.

After a few moments of awkward silence K' rolled over onto his side, sighing, and half-burying his face into the pillow. His eyes slipped shut. "Somethin' else you needed to say?" The question came out muffled due to the fact that his mouth was smooshed against the pillow. There wasn't any sort of baiting in his tone, like Kula had expected. Just sleepy curiosity.

"Oh. Um. Yeah..." A bead of sweat slid between K's brows, heading down the slope of his nose. On impulse, she reached out, thumbing it away before it could complete the journey. He twitched at the contact, prying open an eye again to look at her in foggy confusion. Still no yelling; that was as good a sign as any that her apology would go over well, for a change. Maybe this was what Maxima's earlier knowing look had been about? "I... I'm really, really, really sorry for hurting you yesterday. I didn't mean to, I swear! I thought you'd dodge that kick, but..." she trailed off, wringing her hands together in nervous anticipation of the yelling to come.

He blinked at her incomprehensibly for a couple of seconds until understanding finally dawned. Oh, right. Training yesterday. Man, this fever was seriously fogging up his thoughts. "'S fine. Don't worry about it. I shouldn't've been fighting in the first place anyway; knew I was getting sick..."

And yet he'd done it anyway. Because he was stubborn to a fault, and refused to be the weakest link of the group, despite the fact that... he kind of actually was. Maxima had a cybernetic body built like a tank, Kula was a carefully crafted test tube baby with incredible cryokinetic abilities. And K'... what was he in comparison? Just a broken kid with a bad attitude and equally temperamental flames he could only wield from one fist. Which were prone to hurting him more than helping, anyway. He was useless. A liability. So why they kept him around and tolerated his perpetual prickliness was a mystery. They should just... toss him aside already and be done with it. Like he was certain they wanted to do.

K' hadn't realised he'd been drifting back into another fitful bout of sleep until the mattress dipping startled him awake. "What are you doing?" he asked, watching Kula crawl over the top of him. She didn't answer him. Instead, her knee bumped his and a clump of blonde hair brushed against his bare shoulder during her passing. She flopped onto the other side of him, mattress bouncing briefly with the motion, and released a satisfied huff. The sheets shifted, tugged up and away from him and then down again as she made herself comfortable underneath them too. "Oi, Kula..."

"Turn around," she ordered.

"... What?"

"Just do it, K'."

He let out an annoyed huff. She could be so frigging demanding when she wanted something; a veritable bratty little princess. "My ribs still hurt, idiot," he groused, but complied regardless, groaning as the bones in question complained. "Happy?"

"Mhmm," Kula hummed. She scooted close, pressing their foreheads together. His was burning hot to the touch and damp with sweat. Slowly, carefully, she wrapped an arm around K's shoulders. When he stiffened but didn't recoil, she gently tugged him even closer.

"What are you doing?" The same question as before, but warier. This close, the dark circles under his eyes looked more prominent, which in turn made the blue of his eyes stand out more. Kula had always thought they were a pretty shade; that it was a shame he always hid them behind his sunglasses. "Those giant women are gonna have my head if you get sick, y'know."

"I've actually never been sick before," Kula mused. Except for that one time she ate his cooking, anyway... But that was a different flavour of sickness altogether, apparently. Perks of being an artificial human. Her next breath, and the rest that followed, were cold. As were the areas where the pair's skin met. The strawberry blonde of her hair melted into pale blue, rising on a minor gust of self-generated icy wind before draping back across her shoulders like a frigid shawl. "What's it like?"

"Lucky brat... It sucks." K' released a small groan as the chill from their connected foreheads eased some of the burning. His eyes fluttered shut, savouring the small slice of relief she'd granted him with her powers. "Y'feel heavy. And hot and... it's hard to think. Foggy." Little by little, the tenseness was starting to bleed out of his shoulders. The haggard lines etched into his face also began smoothing out some, making him look younger; like the weight of the world was finally sliding off of his shoulders. "And just... tired."

“That does sound bad."

“Mm." Already, his breaths were beginning to even out, the blooms of warmth they brought to her freezing skin slowing in frequency. That was good. He needed the rest; because even if he wasn’t sick, insomnia and nightmares ensured he got little of it.