#simarkusweek2022

Only a few things were sure to make Markus’ blood boil in rage. Injustice was one of them. Ignorance the other. But pretentious interviews with reporters who couldn’t give a damn about their cause and were only looking for a sensation happened to be high on the list, too. The people there were as bad as the gabbers at the Museum of Modern Art, if not worse.

Unfortunately, just like those cocktail parties Carl used to despise so much, these events were a necessary evil from time to time, so Markus forced himself to smile as he answered questions that were borderline offensive.

The acceptance of androids as a new living species was still quite a novelty, and most people meant no harm, just didn’t know how to communicate with them after everything that happened. That’s why he was here. To make them see that they were no different from them. If only some of the remarks didn’t feel like they were pulling his teeth out! At least the reporter, Joyce, always made an effort to correct herself when he let her know what she was saying was getting out of hand. But still...

“So... there is word on the street that someone had managed to capture the heart of the famous deviant leader! Is there any truth to it?”

Markus froze in shock. How did they know? His eyes wandered in the general direction where he assumed his friends and Simon were waiting for him to finish the interview, keeping their fingers crossed for him. Sadly, the studio lights were shining right into his eyes, so he couldn’t make out their expressions. They were probably as shocked as he was.

“This is bullshit,” North stated via their wireless connection. “Don’t reply, Markus. They are just digging for dirt. What you do with Simon in privacy is no one's business.”

Josh was next to chime in. “For once, I have to agree. They should focus on the things that matter, not this.”

Although Markus agreed with them wholeheartedly, he was still waiting for the one person who had the biggest say in this. Simon. The thing between them was still too fragile, and he didn’t want to squander it by making him uncomfortable.

“What do you think I should say, Simon? I don’t want to keep you a secret, but I won’t put you in the spotlight if you don’t wish so.”

At first, he was met with silence on the other end. Simon was obviously as torn at this as him. Then he responded, voice wavering: “I don’t think it would do us any good at this point to give any names. Maybe keep the details? Other than that, I’m fine with whatever you decide would be the best.” He went silent for a moment, before admitting: “Don’t wanna keep you a secret too.”

Markus nodded out of instinct, before turning back at the reporter. Thank god their communication was fast as a bolt of lightning, otherwise, the awkward pause might get even worse. “I hope you do realize this is a very personal question, Joyce. But yes. You could say that.”

“Oooh, lucky them, then! There’s no shortage of people who would jump at the opportunity to date someone like you.”

Were they now? He didn’t know and, honestly, he did not care. They weren’t his beautiful, radiant Simon. “I’m sure there are some fans or admirers, and I appreciate the attention,” not really, “even though I think people should focus more on what I say rather than on how I look.” He glanced down at the ground, suddenly abashed, before he picked up where he ended. “Back during the revolution, there was no time for romance. We all fought to survive. Now I found what I’ve been missing and I’m happy. It’s a tremendous success that our kind can finally experience love without having to fear the reaction of people around us.”

The crowd, mostly present androids, cheered at that. He overheard even one loud “aww” from backstage. Joyce giggled. It was a weird cacophony of sounds. One he was still getting used to, months after giving speeches. “You sound smitten with that mysterious person! I’m sure our viewers are dying to know whether it was a human or another android who rocked your world.”

That gave him pause. Simon said to keep it as ambiguous as possible. “Android. Former domestic assistant. And that’s all I will say.”

There were dozens of models that were considered domestic, both male and female. Small chance they would immediately figure out it was a PL600 with sky blue eyes and a gentle smile. And if they did? Well, people speculate all the time. They didn’t have to confirm it. Or they could. It was up to them to decide whether they would make it official, once they got more comfortable with the situation.

“Ah, I see. So you swept them off their feet and now they keep the house warm while you are here, changing the world.”

What. The. Hell.

At first, he thought – hoped – he heard her wrong. But no. She did say that. His heart picked up speed and he could feel his cheeks heating up as he fought the urge to scream: Just because I’m the leader doesn’t mean my partner has to be some submissive, meek flower who stays at home and takes care of the household!

Out of instinct, his eyes wandered to where he thought Simon stood. He could imagine his sad expression as he took the insult and said nothing, keeping it all bottled up. No way. Markus can’t let this slide.

“We are no longer slaves of our programming, Joyce,” he had to try very hard to keep his voice calm. “We can choose to be anyone we want to be now, and my partner chose to fight for our cause side by side with me ever since the beginning. Never passes a day when I wouldn’t admire their dedication, strength, and voice of reason. So stop belittling their worth just because of their past.”

The whole studio went silent. Joyce in particular looked like she wished the ground would swallow her whole. Although she had a lot of makeup on, he could see her face was getting a radiant shade of red. Good. Maybe she will think next time before she spouts something like this.

Joyce apologized in the end, but it was clear as day she was no longer comfortable. As was he. He couldn’t wait for the interview to be over. But before he could say his goodbyes and leave, who knows what possessed him that he turned at Joyce and smirk, even adding a small wink just to drive the point across. “Oh, and just so you know – it was them who ‘swept me off my feet’, not the other way around.”

If there was one thing he was sure about, it was that Joyce never gonna invite him to the studio again. And he was fine with that. What worried him more was the way Simon stayed quiet the entire ride home, eyes glossy, and lips in a thin line. He tried asking him if he was all right (after all, he realized the ending, no matter how true, could have been a step way too far), but was always brushed off with a forced smile and whispered: “At home.”

Oh, rA9. He wasn’t gonna forgive him, was he? Did he accidentally screw up the best thing that ever happened to him?

When the door of Carl’s mansion closed behind them, he opened the mouth to apologize – perhaps he could still save what was left of their relationship – but was instantly silenced by Simon cornering him against the wall, during which he knocked over the coat hanger. Markus had never seen so much fire burning in his eyes before. It was a little intimidating. Not that he would ever let himself get intimidated by others. Not anymore.

He half expected him to start yelling at him for violating their privacy (it sounded out of character for such a soft-spoken man that Simon was, but on the second thought, he would also never foresee him pushing him with so much strength his back collided with the wall). What he didn’t see coming were the wet kisses that were suddenly peppered all over his face, lips, neck. Anywhere Simon could reach.

The surprised yelp that left Markus’ lips was anything but dignified, but there was currently no space for shame left in him. Everything was overtaken by the heat Simon was radiating. Hunger.

“Did you mean it? What you said at the interview?” he asked, voice sounding strangely breathless, even though androids didn’t require oxygen to function as his teeth ghosted over the copper nape of Markus’ neck. That was all warning he got before the same teeth gently sunk into his skin, nibbling on it to draw a moan out of Markus’ lips.

Somehow, he found his legs wrapped around his slim waist, and once the fog on his mind prevented him from thinking clearly withdrawn, he worried they might end tumbling onto the ground. After all, Simon wasn’t the strongest of androids and he was built to withstand even a hit by a truck. But then he felt Simon’s arms around his waist and bottom and knew he was secure. Safe.

So much for who’s “wearing the trousers in this relationship” right now, as Joyce would elegantly put it, and Markus’ rolled his eyes at the thought.

They often switched roles, one leading the other or submitting when they felt like it (or when one needed the comfort of arms wrapped tightly around him, taking care of every need and shielding him from the outside world that still wasn’t kind to them). It suited them better than having a dynamic set in stone. Like this, both would get what they required at the moment. But Simon was usually too reserved to initiate such contact, much less like this. His complete loss of control sent Markus straight on cloud nine.

“I did,” he breathed into his golden hair. He tried his hardest to keep up, repaying Simon’s passionate touches by showering him with love and affection neither of them knew before. “Every single word. You are my world, Si. I won’t let anyone ridicule you.”

Simon responded with a groan that rumbled from the depth of his chest (Markus could feel it against his body like a purr) before he resumed the venture of his lips across the planes of his copper skin, littered with countless freckles like stars.