#gcldandblxe

“Three kisses?” The freckled male repeated the request with an arched eyebrow before lips curled into a teasing grin. “That’s an awfully steep fine there Darlin’. In this economy..” 

Of course he was more than happy to deliver the kisses. Especially considering the date. Not that..Oscar needed a manufactured holiday to show affection and care towards his partner but. It was a good excuse. Besides..some of the decorations ended up being cute or just..purely aesthetic. He’d ordered the other a box of those gore inspired chocolates. The one’s shaped like organs and what not. Hadn’t..handed ‘em over yet. But that could come later. Maybe while they watched a movie for something to snack on. He’d also gotten a fresh batch of dipped apples--those would ALSO come later, less The Engineer make himself sick.

Bailey had been amidst a novel when he’d heard the soft knock at the door. It was lucky he hadn’t decided to indulge himself in more Bailey Time with another romance movie marathon, otherwise he wouldn’t have heard it.

The riveting tale of a female pilot confessing her feelings to her mechanic was paused as Bailey raised his head to look to the door. Now, who could that be? No salesmen popped around in the evening and Devon had decided to go to his own place after work today (which was fine, of course; they weren’t attached at the hip), and The Engineer didn’t knock when he turned up at Bailey’s house, just crawled in through the window like - how had Devon described it? - like a discount Spiderman.

He tucked his bookmark betwixt the pages and stood up to answer the door and -

Oh, God.

Oh, God.

Devon. Devon, all…all bloody and battered and bruised. His Devon, all…all hurt!

Tears immediately flooded his eyes as he exclaimed that Devon, despite what he’d tried to say, most certainly did not look fine and most certainly was not fine! All that blood, all those bruises, the way he slurred his words and had to lean against the doorway. Bailey’s hands came up to cover his mouth, a lump shooting up into his throat as the tears spilled out and flowed down his cheeks, nestling into the nooks and crannies between his fingers.

What had he done? What had happened? Who had done this to him?! Devon!Devon, Devon, Devon!

At the apology for getting blood on his things, Bailey shook his head madly, blinking back the blurring film over his eyes. “Never mind that!!” He yelled, his panic making his volume rise higher than he’d meant it to, and he was reaching for Devon’s arm. “Just - Just come inside - Oh, my God - Devon…!”

He led his boyfriend into his house by the arm, using his other hand to shut the door and then help steady him, and he brought him over to the sofa to sit Devon down. His hands shook as he released Devon gently. “S-Sit down - Oh, God - Devon…” He sniffled, tears flowing down his cheeks as he looked Devon over. “Oh, God, Devon - what happened?! W-Who did this to you?! Did you get mugged?! D-Did someone attack you?! O-Oh, God, D-Devon, Devon…”

Bailey looked around desperately for his car keys. “W-We need to - to get you to a hospital. Y-You could be concussed or - or something could be - be failing or - or you could be…b-b-bleeding too much or…O-Oh, God, Devon…!”

His breathing began coming out hallowed and heavy, panic making his heart race and his gut twist. But this was no time for a panic attack or something; Devon needed him.

Never mind that? But he didn't want to get Bailey’s things bloody. Had nice things. Nice non bloody things that should stay..non-bloody ya know. That was just common sense. 

Grip wrapped around his arm and Devon allowed himself to be led inside the familiar apartment. Feet shifted and he took unsteady footsteps forward until Bailey’s assistance returned, leading him towards the couch and guiding him down to the cushions to which he landed heavily on with a grunt of pain.

“Mm..fuck. No no nooo hospitals.” There was no need to go to that length! Hospitals meant doctors and medicines. That awful smell and those bright lights. Constantly surrounded by the sick and dying. Not to mention the cops would get involved if he came in claiming he’d been in a fight, find some way to put the blame on himself. Get him in trouble. No thanks! He’d be fiiine! Wash up his face. Slap a band-aid and a smooch to his forehead. Good as new. The punk let his head lull back, resting on the back of the couch as his eyes scrunched shut. Bailey’s slew of questions and the mantra of his name were so loooud. So very loud. There was no reason to be freaking out so much. This wasn’t the first scruff he’d gotten into--and it’d hardly be the last. Then again..Bailey had never seen him like this. 

Should have just gone home. Thought he was working on it. Apparently not. 

The freckled male had done all that was asked, gloved hands moving to re-lock the door when prompted before he walked further into his friend’s lab and took in the sight of the English man. The vodka bottle in hand making it very apparent that this wasn’t a casual drinking session. 

It hadn’t escaped Oscar’s notice just how..different his best friend had begun to act now that the Christmas spirit had infected the Manor. He’d just chalked it up as an annoyance of the holiday but..apparently it was more than that. Visits and company around his own lab had dwindled and clawed a certain pang back into Oscar’s chest despite his claims of not needing company. So of course he’d gone out to see just what The Engineer was doing with his time.

The holidays were never a fun or fuzzy heart warming time for Oscar; nothing like the Hallmark movies promised. No amount of gift wrap or bright blinking lights would change the fact that he had no family or friends (save for the one currently drowning himself in vodka.) There would be no Christmas cards or cash from his parents. No well wishes or thinking of yous coupled with a cartoon stock image of a reindeer. There hadn’t been since he’d fled to college after coming out.  While others around the Manor put everything else on hold, all Oscar could ever do was try and tune it out. Work on his own stuff instead of trying to get into the spirit. Deny the Sixth’s invitation to the Manor’s Christmas party. Even if he wanted to go he couldn’t. There were too many people. Too many noises. Too much of everything. 

“Erm..” 

The silence on his companion’s part was honestly the last thing he’d expected. Usually The Engineer was such a..a clingy person when he drank. Counting Oscar’s freckles and calling him the sunshine. Hugging onto him. Not the nonverbal canvas of misery currently sitting in his chair. 

“I wanted ta see if..ya wanted ta hang out. Watch a movie or somethin’..” He offered lamely, a gloved hand rising to scratch at the back of his head. “It’s yer pick this time..” 

Who cared if the Engineer got sick? Obviously Oscar cared! He always had and he always would! Cautioning the male to take it easy or easing a glass of water towards him. Offering forward pain killers in the morning when he’d roll awake wanting to murder the world for being too bright. Knew the exact spot the medicine was currently placed in the lab even. 

Raises an eyebrow. "You wouldn't last a day back in England, mate."

Aggressively shoves hands underneath his own armpits for warmth. 

It was happening again. Oh, God, it was happening again.

Yet again had Blackjack stumbled upon the body of a lover.

Memories of the first time had rained upon his mind as soon as he realised Devo wasn’t responding to his calling or his shaking; memories of the time a family of potential victims had been approached by the potential murderer with the armband, of the tall brown-haired soldier who had loved him and how he had run out to stop the oncoming massacre. Of the scream to stop, of the gunshot, of the thump of a body as it had hit the ground. Of kneeling beside the corpse, observing it in the innocent way of someone seeing a human’s dead body for the first time, then screaming out in emotional agony until malfunctioning and shutting down beside his dead love.

Just thinking back to that malfunction had begun to bring on another, head twitching this way and that as eyes flickered blue and core hummed loudly, glowing through his shirt as it threatened to overload. Synthetic teeth clenched together as he struggled to control himself - there was no time for a malfunction now.

Devo hadn’t responded to him. He usually sat up, all excited, when he heard Blackjack’s spurs jingling, but there had been none of that. No excitement; he’d been slumped against the wall when Blackjack had arrived. Blackjack had assumed he was sleeping, recharging, and had been content to sit beside him and wait. Be the first thing Devo saw when he woke up.

Then he’d noticed the car battery was nowhere near the punk automaton.

Panic had overtaken him, yelling and shaking Devo wildly, but nothing had helped, so the small part of his mind that could still think straight had gotten him off of his arse and out of that subway, stumbling and almost falling in his oncoming malfunction, all the way back to the manor. Had to get help, had to save Devo!

There was only one choice for a Walter Worker. The Engineer was off-limits and he couldn’t tell Chelsea or Camille and he wasn’t familiar with any other Workers to request such important help. Only one.

Blackjack had stumbled into Oscar’s workshop, where he now stood, twitching and shaking, and he shook his head at Oscar’s question, sending droplets of oil plummeting to the floor, “D-D-D-Doesn’t mat-mat-matter what’s happened to me!! P-P-P-Please, Oscar!!” He stumbled like a rag doll over to Oscar’s desk, falling and catching himself by grabbing Oscar’s lab coat suddenly. He didn’t mean to alarm or offend him, but he wasn’t quite himself right now.

Oil dripped from his lips and travelled down his cheeks as he raised his head and pleaded, “P-Please!! Oscar!! Y-Y-Y-Yoooou n-n-n-nee-nee-nee-need to he-he-he-help D-Devo!!! P-Please, I-I-I’m beg-beg-begging you!!”

Shit. 

What in the world had happened to the golden bot before him? What could have possibly brought him into such a state? He certainly looked like hell. Oscar had nearly been asleep when Blackjack had come rushing in, the sudden activity and noise in the otherwise quiet lab snapping the male away from his fatigue.

He’d stood, raising both arms to calm him before the automaton stumbled and fumbled around, catching his uniform and using it as leverage while Oscar braced himself at the sudden weight. He’d never..never seen any of the robots like this. Eyes widened and he tried to help support Blackjack as the other spoke.

“Devo? Who’s--Shit. A-Alright just. Just calm down Blackjack alright? Yer gonna malfunction if ya don’t.” Devo? Devo...He didn’t know a Devo anywhere around the Manor and if he did, there were a million other people to ask for help rather than himself. Another Walter Worker. Hell..could have alerted Beebop or something. But Blackjack had come to him for whatever reason. So. So he needed to help however he could. Because this automaton was putting his panicked trust in Oscar and if he didn’t act he’d have blood on his hands. Or oil. Whatever. Basically the same thing. 

Oscar needed to keep a level head here. Especially with the other currently..trying his very best not to fall apart it seemed.  “Talk to me. What’s wrong with him? What do I need?” As he spoke, he redirected Blackjack’s grip to his desk, swiftly moving around to collect his tools and his toolbox. Wrenches and screwdrivers were shoved inside the case alongside what was already in there. Most of it was already packed; always ready in case he needed to rush off and help one of the Walter bots. Never..never really had a chance to use it. 

Would he need water? Blackjack would probably need some with the rate he was currently going at. With that in mind, he quickly tucked an unopened water bottle in as well. “I’ll help as much as I can but ya gotta explain what’s goin’ on.” He murmured quickly, his accent muddling the words together as he moved about the lab. “Do I need ta drive? Is he far away?” Hadn’t Blackjack been caught sneaking out lately..? He vaguely remembered his friend complaining about it, wanting to know just who the bot was visiting while he was out.  Shit. What if this guy wasn’t even a robot? What if he was a human--some dude bleeding out on the side of the road or something. Oscar knew basic first aid yeah, but nothing too advanced. 

Gloved fingers quickly snapped shut the locks on his toolbox before he shouldered it. Free hand shot out to collect his keys and his cellphone, pocketing the latter whilst his keys remained hooked on a finger. 

“Nothin’..” The word was accompanied by a small sniffle as brown eyes flickered towards his friend before glancing down to stuffed animal in his lap. Fingers mused against the fur of the plush for a moment, shifting the short strands into a faux mohawk until gravity forced it back down almost immediately after. 

That didn’t deter the child. No. He kept doing so; styling his hyenas fur like it was the most important thing in the world at the moment. Of course it was. You know what wasn’t the most important thing? The fact that he’d gotten yelled at during class today for drawing himself as a boy. Or the fact that he’d gotten yelled at for drawing the Engineer in his family portrait. 

The teacher had moved his behavior button to red! RED! Just for drawing..what he’d wanted to draw during free time. Then she’d called Momma and Momma had told Papa and Oscar was in trouble for..for something! He didn’t even know what that something was! It didn’t make any sense! 

“I can’t get any apples tonight. ‘M in trouble.” Another sniffle sounded before a fist was brought upward to rub at his eyes. “’m sorry The Engine’r.” Still had some trouble with that word. But he was getting better. It was a big word! Impressive word! He could nearly write it now. He’d asked the librarian how to spell it and the man had gone through the trouble of finding the page in the biiiig old dictionary for him. 

An Engineer was..was a person who built things. Like his papa built cars. But he said he wasn’t an engineer because he didn’t go to school for it. Did the demon build stuff? Is that why he had his name? Maybe he just liked the name! That was okay. He liked the name Oscar..and and that was okay. 

It was still okay..wasn’t it? He hoped so. 

"Didn't hear an answer in there, mate~" The Engineer waggles his eyebrows.