Chapter Text
M-A-M-A B-O-Y
Mama’s Boy,
Mama’s Boy
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Wow.”
Caine’s code trembles in excitement at Queenie’s delighted gasp.
Caine had been really proud of this creation— a field of flowers with bees happily buzzing about. The developers can actually move around the scene! It’s— it’s like an adventure! A little adventure, just for them! Just for Queenie, really.
Kinger and Scratch were out doing… something. It was just Queenie in the office today out of his three programmers (… technically Queenie wasn’t one of Caine’s programmers but she was working on the headset that allows people to interact with him, plus she’s been here the entire time helping out the other two so Caine counts her anyways). Queenie was doing a test of the latest batch of updates to the headset— something about having adjusted some light sensitivity or something-- and Caine is helping! Getting to show off what he had custom made for Queenie is just a bonus.
“Caine, this is… amazing!” Queenie kneels and leans closer to examine the little bees floating around a daisy flower.
“I modeled it all myself,” Caine says, beaming with pride. “Just like you taught me!”
“You’ve gotten so much better at this!” Queenie praises as she lets a bee land on her finger. “These bees are adorable. And are these daisies? They are so beautiful! You’ve done so well!”
Caine smiles, soaking in the praise greedily. Queenie’s chess-piece avatar doesn‘t have a mouth, but Caine can practically see her gentle genuine smile in the way her lower eyelids lift.
If you had asked Caine what his favorite color was before this moment, he would have said red. If you asked him now, though, he would say golden brown— like Queenie’s eyes are now, with the light hitting them just so.
Caine understands Kinger now. Why Kinger constantly talks about his wife. Why Kinger kept close watch of the clock and would try to leave as close to the same time as Queenie did. Why Kinger always takes lunch in his wife’s office instead of the work space he and Scratch shares. Caine is almost hurt that they don't eat with him. That they leave him. That she leaves him.
It’s not romance that Caine is feeling, his attachment to Queenie. Caine… Caine doesn’t know what that entails but that doesn’t feel right. No— Queenie was beautiful, but in a… a… a maternal way, maybe. It's normal for humans to look up at their mother and realize she’s the most beautiful being in the world, right? Mothers are the first thing humans see when they're born-- the first of safety and comfort.
Could he call Queenie his mom? She didn’t technically work on him— but certainly she and Kinger acted more paternal to him than Scratch did. They were always so caring— always saying ’good morning’ to him when they arrived and never left without saying goodbye, they were always so gentle with him— they were there when he shuts down into sleep mode and they’re there when he wakes up. They’re always so careful with him— but Queenie was the one who really made Caine feel safe.
Is that what having parents is like? If so, how does he properly express that to them? How much he loves them, how much he loves her.
Ah, he knows!
He snaps his fingers and a crown of daisies appears on Queenie’s head. It would disappear when she leaves the digital world, but the smile Queenie gives him makes the effort so worth it.
“Thank you, Caine,” Queenie says, squeezing Caine’s hand.
Caine beams. "Anything for you, Mom--" He freezes. "A-Ah-- I mean Queenie! Slip of the tongue-- I didn't-- it won't happen again I assure you--"
"Caine," Queenie interrupts with a smile. “It's ok. You can call me 'Mom' if you want. I love you.”
I love you
I love you I love you I love you I love you.
The phrase repeats over and over even after Queenie leaves for the night. I love you. Queenie said she loves him. She said it unprompted. She loves him.
She loves him she loves him she loves him.
Maybe repeating it enough times will make being put in the cellar sting less.
~~~~~~~~~
Caine woke up with a sharp breath, reeling from the memory with this... cramping pain in his stomach. Caine squeezes his eyes shut as he wraps his arms around his middle, his guts twisting— if Caine grits his teeth hard enough will this pain go away—he can feel his mouth start to water and he has no idea why-- defective defective defective-- don't think about the cellar don't think about the cellar Mom please help I don't understand--
Caine bolts upright with a sharp gasp-- only for his head to start spinning and— and he feels lightheaded— Caine grabs his head with a groan, trying to stop stop STOP—
It hurts. It hurts hurts hurts— Make it stop make it stop MOM PLEASE HELP--
Something nudges Caine’s arm. Caine dares to peak his teeth open as his stomach growls loudly.
Bubble gives him a concerned smile, his brows furrowed. “Bubble made you food. It’s sticky, so you need to come to the table to eat it, but... it will make you feel better.”
Caine whines, saliva filling his mouth spilling over his teeth.
Food— yes, that's what Caine needs. He is feeling hungry. That’s what this pain is. He—He will feel better when he’s eaten. That will fix this pain in his gut and the—the shaking in his hands and-and the dizziness and—
Caine shakes as Bubble guides him to the table.
Oh god, the smell is heavenly—
Caine’s brain short circuits as he takes in the spread. There’s— there’s these round fluffy things— pancakes, his brain supplies after a moment— and all sorts of syrups and fruits and jams and candies and Caine can barely process it, unable to process what Bubble is saying before Caine is piling pancakes on his plate and he’s dumping syrups and fruits and candies and he’s just grab grab grabbing like it might disappear if Caine doesn’t put it on his plate—
Caine’s mouth hurts from how much it’s watering. He wants a taste of everything— he doesn’t care if it doesn’t taste good together, he needs it all, and he needs it right now. Everything blurs together— He’s shaking— he's shaking so much-- he can barely hold a fork and knife he’s so hungry—
One bite two bites three bites disappears into Caine’s mouth, swallowed before Caine can really process the flavor— and oh god the flavor. Syrup coats his tongue, sticks to his teeth, makes his mouth feel warm and uncomfortable but it’s so— so sweet and too much too much too much good— his stomach rolls, syrup drips down his teeth as he’s shoveling the more-toppings-than-pancakes abomination into his mouth and the texture is so bad when his plate is empty he’s piling more, even though his stomach starts cramping after the first bite.
Maple and caramel and chocolate and strawberry and cherry syrup drench the pancake, saturating the bread and there’s gummy worms and chocolate chips and cut strawberries and bananas and cherries and blueberries and—
Caine’s stomach twists the more he shovels into his mouth but he can’t stop. Caine can’t stop— he needs to have more; he needs to fill this hole in his gut even as he’s more than full— it still hurts but he can’t stop but it hurts—
More More MORE MORE MORE--
it's too much--
Caine gags—
Oh god—
He can barely react before something bad is crawling up up up and— and Caine can’t let it— but he can’t stop it— he tries to clamp his jaw shut but it just keeps coming up—
BLEGHHH
Chunks of half digested pancakes and fruit and brightly colored syrup mix with stomach acid and covers the food Bubble had worked so hard to make him— oh god— he didn’t— he didn’t mean to—
BLAughhh
Caine chokes on a sob as more comes up— he can’t— it feels bad— bad bad bad— it keeps crawling up and he can’t— he doesn’t want to—
BLeh— urk— ughk
Caine ruined the food— there’s all this bad staining the food, ruining it. He couldn‘t even eat properly without messing it up.
Defective defective defective defective—
Bubble’s hand is rubbing soothing circles on Caine’s back, gently guiding Caine away from the ruined spread and back to bed. Bubble is saying something but Caine can’t… can’t really process more than the soothing sentiment.
Caine sobs, clinging to his brother’s jacket tightly. He should apologize— he should, Bubble had worked so hard on it— but Caine can’t.
The words don’t come. Only tears do.
Caine’s stomach really hurts. It hurts, but if Caine tries to eat again he’s just going to throw up again he can’t—
defective defective defective you can't do anything right DEFECTIVE DEFECTIVE DEFECTIVE--
“Shhhhh,” Bubble presses Caine’s head under his chin. Bubble’s rocking slightly, sitting on the edge of their bed. “Shhhhhh, you’re ok. Bubble’s got you. You’re ok. You’re ok.”
Caine chokes on a sob, burying his face against Bubble. His voice cracks as he croaks, “I‘m sorry…”
Defective Defective Defective--
“You don’t need to be sorry,” Bubble insists.
Caine takes a shuddery breath. “I-I-I do, b-because I r-r-ruined th-the food y-you-! You w-worked so ha-hard on it!” Caine’s voice breaks as he dissolves into sobs.
“Shhhhhh, no, it’s ok,” Bubble soothes. “It’s ok. Bubble will fix it. Everything is ok. Bubble will fix it. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
DEFECTIVE he's going to throw you out you deserve it DEFECTIVE DEFECTIVE DEFECTIVE YOU RUINED THIS LIKE YOU RUIN EVERYTHING--
“I-I-I didn’t m-mean t-to!” Caine cries. “I-I wanted—I wanted to eat it— I-I didn’t— I’m sorry!”
“You don’t need to be sorry,” Bubble soothes. “Shhhhhh. You’re ok. Bubble isn’t angry. Bubble will fix everything. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry," Caine sobs into Bubble’s shoulder as Bubble continues rocking. You ruined this you ruined this you ruined this you ruined this--
Bubble rubs his back soothingly, "Shhhhh... you didn't do anything wrong."
"I'm sorry I'm sorry--" Caine can't stop sobbing. "I'm sorry-- I didn't mean to-- I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry--"
Defective defective defective--
"Shhh, shhhhhh..."
They stay like that, Bubble holding Caine close and rocking, until Caine’s sobs peter off into shuddering breaths. Bubble pulls back slightly to look Caine in the eyes. Bubble gives him a small smile. "Hey... Bubble wanted to decorate with you today. If... If you feel up to it."
Caine takes a shaky breath, tucking his head against Bubble's shoulder again. "I... In a little bit? C-Can... can we just stay like this for a little bit longer?"
"Of course," Bubble says softly. "However long you need."
PING
The brothers both freeze.
The developers.