#tffemslashweek

Lug snorts from her seat, never looking up from her book. It’s the closest thing to conversation that she’s offered in the past three days.

“No, really,” Anode insists. “The only reason I don’t literally throw in the towel is it’d clutter the place up. So, here goes.”

It at least gets her a suspicious look, flicked from her head on down like a spot-check for weapons, when she takes a knee in front of Lug. Anode doesn’t risk touching, not yet, instead settling her hands on the edge of Lug’s seat. After a moment’s thought, she shifts to be certain that Lug has space to slip by her.

“We shouldn’t have taken the job-- I shouldn’t have taken the job and dragged you along,” she amends when Lug sends her an acidic glare. “It was reckless. It was dangerous. You were right. I was... Well,  what’s important is that you were right.”

Lug does Anode the courtesy of looking her full in the face, at least, but her expression isn’t promising. Or, rather, it isn’t promising anything Anode especially wants. There is certainly the promise of an ongoing silent treatment.

Anode is then pleasantly surprised when Lug huffs and opens her mouth. Unfortunately, she doesn’t open it to express how silly she feels for dragging things on this long or how much she regrets neglecting her loving wife. No, she opens it to say simply, “And?” She doesn’t seem terribly impressed by Anode’s blank stare. In fact, she seems rather terribly unimpressed. Her face crinkles and she shakes her head, bringing her book up to eye level to block Anode out.

“And!” Anode blurts, catching the top of the book and pressing, gratified when it lowers without any resistance. “And… I owe you an apology.”

Silence. Lug lifts one optical ridge to a sharp peak. She then lifts one hand and rolls it through a meandering “get on with it” sort of gesture. The second roll, a moment after Anode just stares with twisted lips, is coupled with a much ruder gesture.

“Now you’re just being unreasonable,” Anode says without thinking it through.

Lug makes a sound of disgust and her plating shifts like she means to fold herself into alt mode, the better to pretend Anode isn’t there.

“I--” Anode’s vocalizer clicks, shutting down the rest of the sentence. Lug watches her with her eye ridges raised, plating ruffled like she might still transform at any moment. Anode draws out a sound unheard of in the known universe. Her chin hits her chest and just as quickly snaps back up. Gathering all her strength, she says, “I made the wrong call, I was reckless and I owe you an apology and-- and this is me apologizing. I’m apolo-- I’m sorry.”

Lug just stares and Anode groans, dropping her head onto Lug’s knees. She can’t even be mad if Lug is still mad, not really. Her arms wrap up around Lug’s legs without conscious thought; when she squeezes, as much as to reassure herself that Lug is there as anything, she knows exactly what she’s doing.

Almost inaudibly, she repeats against Lug’s plating, “I’m sorry.”

Those legs squirm and Anode relinquishes her grip, biting back another groan. A sigh falls from her lips, hitting the floor with the dull thud of defeat, and she leans back so that Lug has space to storm off and sulk in peace, if she’s not going to just tell Anode to beat it.

One might say she’s surprised when a kiss is dropped between her eyes but one would be underselling her reaction.