#garbagechocolate

Overhead lights hummed, casting dirty yellow-white light across cement, tile and metal rebar and pipes, trying and failing to make the dirty underground service bay seem somewhat sterile but only managing to pick out every crack and spot of dirt in grimy, perfect detail. Normally, Parts & Service was busy and filled to the brim with techs and programmers looking for something to do during the day, but at this moment only two could be found operating the repair pod, the others long gone on daily tasks of some sort or hiding out of camera view to catch a smoke or pilfer uncollected fries from the warmers. Fingers drummed the service pod keyboard lightly–click-clack-clack–but never enough to press a key by accident. That was what rookies did. Contrary to the opinion of corporate, they were not rookies. They were not paid like rookies, and yet…

Yet.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t just wait for Phil?”

Balling a fist, the older technician slammed his fist into the desk, avoiding the keyboard altogether but still startling his coworker into biting his own cheek with fright.

“Owowow–”

He gave the younger worker a hard look, stilling their whining so he could speak, sharp and firm as a stroke of a key on the computer. “It’s a fucking patch for the new system they wanted the jester thing to test run.”

This was true.

“It’s from the server at fucking corporate, so it’s gotta be legit, right?”

This was also true.

“We shouldn’t have to wait for Mr. Espresso For Dinner to supervise us every fucking time the talking pipecleaner needs a spit shine”

Nervously, the younger technician nodded, then shook his head. “But Phil–” He stopped for a moment. “Mr. Mercer was extremely clear about us being careful with the theater unit after the–”

“I. Don’t. Care,” the older man cut in, face creased with angry lines and graying brown hair. “I’ve been working here almost as long as that junkrat in a trenchcoat. Just because he’s Reed’s favorite little dumpster fire he gets the head IT position, but I’m just as capable of working on the attendant as he is. I’m not a fucking rookie–no offense.”

“N-none… taken,” the younger man squeaked, unable to voice further concerns.

“Just get the fucking twink down here so I can get this done, will you?” With a sigh, the older man wheeled his chair to the desk and began to prepare the file for processing, grumbling under his breath. “It can’t be that hard to install a fucking patch for something that’s already in their system, it’s robotics, not fucking rocket science!”

~

“Let me guess.”

Sun fidgeted with his ray, fingertip flicking over the point rhythmically, eyes looking anywhere but into the acid-bright hazel eyes staring him down from behind unkempt brown-black hair.

“You didn’t stop them because Mason’s a jackwad and you didn’t want to cause more problems?”

Nodding, Sun’s fingers closed around the end of his ray tightly–a nervous reflex. Before he could do any real damage, a hand wrapped around his wrist, firm but not overbearing. It still got him to jump, gaze darting up in spite of himself to see the hazel gaze was less of a disappointed burning and more of a concerned flicker, one that knew well and good about his… ‘problematic’ tics that had been developing over the months.

“I’m not mad, Sun,” the man said, voice gentle as he slowly brought the jester’s hand down from his head. “Not at you two, anyway.”

Sun couldn’t help himself, the apologetic babble coming up before he could really stop it, “I’m so so so sorry, Phil! I know you’ve told us not to let them bully us, but the new employee was so nervous and we didn’t think it was a big deal, we just–”

Phil’s palms pressed into both of Sun’s cheeks, causing him to stop as the short human got his attention, face unchanging. “Sun,” he started, speaking slowly and firmly, “I. Am not. Mad. At you. Understand?”

Feeling his jaw quiver, Sun nodded; the hands left his face, turning to hold the man’s chin in thought as he finally broke eye contact. Quietly, Sun folded his own together at the fingers, trying desperately to contain the guilt he felt as he noticed the stirring in the back of his programming of Moon as the night unit tuned in from wherever it was he found himself during daylight hours.

“Is he mad?” the crackly voice inquired.

Sun knew only he could hear his brother but it didn’t offer any solace–it was upsetting, if nothing else. Wrong. Even after months, he still wasn’t used to it, finding himself turning to answer only to be met with an empty room. This time, though, he was acutely aware that Moon wasn’t there. That turning would net only a concerned gaze from their maker, Phil Mercer.

“Not at us,” Sun whispered back, aloud.

Phil’s gaze flicked to Sun at the sound, but he didn’t acknowledge it. He didn’t need to. Instead, Phil mumble, a bit loudly on purpose so they boys–the theater jesters both–would hear without needing to be direct, “That idiot can’t even set the time on a microwave without using wikihow. I could run diagnostics myself and see if it worked but Al’s already up my ass as it is and I don’t have time for a full sweep…” He sighed with exaggeration, folding his arms together.

Sun’s head was tilted curiously at the mutterings, his fingers fidgeting over each other rhythmically.

“Of course Mason picks this week to be a pain. The inconvenience can’t be helped.”

“We’re sorry–”

“Shush.” Rubbing the back of his head and neck, Phil came to a decision–he only hoped it wouldn’t come back to bite them all later. “How’s daycare duty treating you both? Any issues outside of the whole ‘Moon didn’t switch from theater to nap time’ thing the patch was for?”

With a click and whirl of his rays, Sun smiled, glad for something good to talk about--relatively speaking. “Oh, it was lovely! The children are so much fun to interact with! Such wild imaginations!”

A half smile crept onto Phil’s face under his 5-o’clock shadow. “Moon? What about you?”

Sun waited as Moon spoke, relaying his answer precisely while switching the voice setting to the blue unit’s default. “It’s different trying to make the little ones sleep instead of cheer or laugh. Keeping them up by mistake was… odd. But I’ll learn.”

“Well,” Phil mused, “hopefully you find it easier now but I’ll be honest, I don’t trust that patch corporate sent–especially knowing Mason was the one to install it.”

“I don’t trust that guy as far as we can throw him,” Moon muttered, earning a snicker of agreement from Sun.

Catching this, Phil asked, “What's so funny?” still grinning.

Eyes wide, Sun stuttered, “N-nothing! Moon just–doesn’t like Mr. Mason!”

Knowing how this game went, Phil pressed, “So what did he say?”

“It’s not that funny, really!”

“Then why’d you laugh, Sunny D?”

With a raspy giggle, Moon kept on in the back of Sun's mind, “I saw him struggling once to change the input source on the TV in the P&S bay when he pulled a late shift.”

Sun’s voice cracked with disbelief. “What???”

“Let me in on the joke,” Phil begged dryly, giving the tall robot a playful elbow.

“No no–stop!” Sun laughed, rays spinning while Moon dropped more little things about the man named Mason and his prevalent skill issues; if he could cry he’d surely be in tears from laughing, between the snark of his brother and the amused ribbing of his friend on either side as Phil started piling on his own observations of the tech’s mishaps. “Please, this is so mean!”

“You’re feeling better though, right?”

The others stilled, giving Sun a chance to catch his breath so to speak. “I… am, yes.”

“Good.” Phil gave his back a pat. “So listen carefully, alright?” Sun nodded, feeling Moon’s presence close in as he leaned in to hear. “I’ve already got a bunch of things to go over and finish up for you guys for this new trial run they want you two to do. I’m going to work on my own fix for the default program issue but I can’t install it until I’m back.”

Sun’s rays retracted just a hair, giving off a series of clicks that gave away his sadness as he clamped his hands against them with embarrassment. “Ah!”

Phil’s brows raised in a sympathetic arc. “I know, I wouldn’t leave it be like this but Emilia’s…” Without meaning to, Phil’s voice trailed off for a moment, his mind going a thousand miles away briefly. “She’s having a rough trimester.”

“Oh no.” Carefully, Sun’s hands grazed Phil’s shoulders, attempting to comfort the man . “Of course, of course! You can take time for Mrs. Mercer as much as you need!”

Phil gave the lanky robot’s hand a grateful pat. “Appreciated, Sunny, but I still have a job to do. I’ll be home for two weeks and I’ll come back with all kinds of things to clean you up and make you the best daycare attendant those chucklefucks at corp–”

“Phil, language!” Sun blurted, catching both of them by surprise for a moment.

After a second of seeing Sun’s shocked face, rays retracting with embarrassment, Phil let out a deep laugh. “Well, it’s already working so that’s a relief!”

“Can we do that to all the adults?” Moon wondered quietly, a devious feeling creeping into Sun’s mind of how his brother wanted to abuse that feature for his own amusement. It was admittedly tempting with the way some of them talked.

Exhaling briskly, Phil got the pair’s attention before they could get caught up with mischief planning. “Do you think you two can handle me not being here for that long?”

“We should." Sun hoped saying it would give him some confidence in the idea.

“Can you promise me not to be too agreeable with the new guys and keep your butts out of P&S until I get back?”

That one would be harder. “W-we can try. The kids…” Images of the last few days flashed through Sun’s active mind–colorful paper, sliced apples, pillows soaring through the air–and glue.

So.

Much.

Glue.

“You are too new to this to have that look of ‘back in ‘Nam’ already, Sun.”

Sun blinked and came back to the present, grin shaken but not gone. “It was just a lot! Great, but a lot! We can handle it! The helpers are very good at keeping us ready to go!”

Moon mused, “Especially Nana,” which made Sun’s smile change from nervous grin to gentle curve at the mention of the older woman with curly, gray hair and too many bracelets that insisted on everyone, even the staff, calling her ‘nana’ or ‘granny’ despite none of the kids in the daycare being her family by blood.

Phil observed all of this quietly, taking note of Sun’s expression and how he tended to look off to the side whenever Moon spoke. Despite being unable to hear the entire exchange, he had some idea what they were talking about; nothing those two did went unknown to him for long, even in spite of their best efforts to hide some of their hiccups from him at first. If nothing else, he was glad they could still talk to each other actively. I’m glad those mooks in the office are still afraid of the big bad OSHA man, he thought to himself smugly, thumb twitching against his forefinger.

With habitual movements, the messy haired man pulled a sucker out from somewhere in his pocket, peeled the wrapper off in one graceful tug and popped it in his mouth–he grimaced as the sour tang of lemon-lime graced his tongue. Peeking at the wrapper, he saw a small green gator-shaped icon stare back at him. Of course it would be Gator Blast.

“Phil?”

Said man glanced up, realizing the yellow jester had finished his aside in time to see the face Phil pulled at the bizarre flavor of Faz-pop he’d managed to fish out. “Hm?”

“What’s wrong?”

Rolling the candy to his cheek, Phil grumbled, “Monty’s lollipop flavor tastes like plastic and battery acid.”

Horror and concern flickered through Sun’s optics. “Should you be eating that??”

“Too late now.” He checked his watch quickly and made a displeased sound in his throat. “I’ve gotta go wrap some stuff up before Al starts in on me, promise me you two will be careful.”

“We promise!”

“I’ll see you in two weeks. Moon.”

Sun felt his brother’s awareness lean in again just as he was recoiling to whatever mental corner he claimed for himself.

Brow raised as he placed a hand on the daycare exit doors, Phil stated, “Behave,” despite knowing full well it wouldn’t be obeyed for very long. Waving politely, Sun affirmed on Moon’s behalf that he would, indeed, behave as much as possible–Moon himself made no such claim but chose not to argue the point for the moment. No, it would be more fun later to bring it up if and when Phil eventually found out he was not, in any capacity, behaving himself.

With the daycare functionally empty now, the yellow attendant set about checking his new and improved To Do list. Equipment and playsets loomed above him, one of the few things he found that could make him feel small–and hesitated. They still were not used to sharing a body, never mind the bizarre sensation of action overrides that happened on occasion when one of them felt too strongly and it overtook the other’s priority listing, but this one Sun had gotten familiar with. Though he himself didn’t have any issues with the bright plastic tubes and tangled nets that so many kids--and himself-- loved to scramble and climb over, he knew his brother had some… lingering hesitations about them.

For good reason, he knew, despite having been assured Moon wouldn’t remember the details, yet it didn’t stop the lunar unit from the occasional fear response whenever either of them found themselves looking up at the bars and bridges too long. Gently, Sun murmured, “Moon?” just loud enough to get his pair’s attention and snap him out of his trance–immediately, Sun felt his knees relax and motion return to him.

“Sorry, Sunny,” he heard back after a moment.

Carefully, Sun picked his way across the daycare floor to the great glass wall that enclosed the play area; there was a spot they knew where the shadows on the other side made the glass just a bit more reflective, allowing them a murky look at themselves if they stood in just the right spot. For a moment, Sun saw only himself staring back, red frill laying neatly around his neck, eyes bright and baby blue against his yellow and gold facial mold; he blinked hard and was not surprised in the least that when he look again, what stared back was a red frill laid under a blue cowl, navy and gray features replacing his own as grayed eyes peered back from the glass. A quirky little feature that had taken getting used to, but Phil never passed up on a chance to make things a bit easier on them, even when corporate threatened him with termination for making ‘unsolicited upgrades’.

Guilt crept through Sun’s circuits as he met Moon’s gaze in the glass; part of him was glad Phil hadn’t manually swapped them out to see for himself, but the betrayal of trust was almost too much for the yellow jester to bear. Feeling this, the reflection of Moon’s face creased with concern–he couldn’t touch his brother physically, but Moon knew he could be heard regardless. “You could have told him,” the night-colored bot said gently.

Sun started, “Its–” but hesitated, unable to maintain eye contact with the reflection. “I’m sure it’s nothing major. Mr. Mason isn’t the most… careful with us, and Phil has enough to deal with. You heard him, Mrs. Mercer isn’t feeling well and she’s having a baby–!”

“Sun.” Moon’s voice was firm, cutting off the tirade of excuses before it could get out of hand. “You’re doing it again.”

“I’m sorry.” With a start, Sun realized he’d grabbed onto one of his rays again while talking.

“Why do you do that?”

The barest hint of a shrug moved Sun’s shoulders. “Maybe the same reason the playsets make you freeze in place?” Sun’s brow furrowed. “I–I’m sorry, I…”

That hadn’t meant to be said aloud.

Moon seemed just as confused as Sun felt, thankfully, his brow an exact mirror of Sun’s, bunched in confusion at the odd vocalization. “It’s… fine,” he eventually managed to say, shaking his head. “I don’t mean to do it, I just…”

“I know.” Standing straight, Sun brushed imaginary fluff from his collar, attempting to make himself ‘presentable’ in an effort to get some kind of control over himself. “And you’re right, I should have told him about your eyes, but if he’s going to give us a big system clean-and-polish when he comes back, we can wait until then. Right?”

Their gazes met in the glass again.

Moon closed his eyes briefly and nodded. “It’s probably just Mason being clumsy, nothing major. We’ll tell Phil once he’s back. Mrs. Mercer needs him more than we do right now.”

“Exactly!” Turning quickly, Sun moved away from the glass, no longer able to maintain a sense of ease while his brother stared back with the empty, gray eyes that didn’t belong to him. “Today’s list has something new on it–” Pausing, Sun raised a finger in thought. “I don’t know where they keep the disinfectant.”

“I hope it’s not behind the desk.”

“Me, too!” Set about to find the elusive chemicals, Sun didn’t dare to check the glass again. At first, he’d hoped he'd been wrong when they chatted after the patch update and he thought Moon’s eyes were off somehow, but then a worker commented on it.

“Why are his eyes gray?”

Thankfully, by some miracle, that tidbit hadn’t gotten back to Phil yet.

Not that it made it feel better in Sun’s coding when he was met with empty gray irises any time he used the glass or a mirrored surface to see his brother.

Moon’s eyes shouldn’t be gray, he told himself fretfully.