Chapter Text
The afternoon rain came down like a shadow on Boxmore and Boxman scooped grounds of coffee into the coffee maker. He filled the back of the machine with water and pressed the “on” button with his talon. He fetched two mugs, one saying “I donut care” where the word “donut” had been replaced with a cartoon donut, and another that said “world’s best dad.”
The latter had been a present from his robots, who’d bought the thing from the bodega Boxman hated so very much. He wasn’t sure to be pleased or infuriated at their treachery. He’d chosen to be neutral. Being affectionate to his children seemed foreign in the wake of his own upbringing.
The coffee maker chimed four times, and Boxman poured the brew into each mug. The professor had told him he liked his coffee black as night, so Boxman decided he’d have his own coffee the same way, however much he disliked bitter things. He could be like Venomous if he tried. He was always impressing himself, so why not take a new route of self-improvement? Boxman thought very little about integrity if it meant impressing not only himself, but the professor.
Boxman took the mugs in his hand and his claw and made his way to the glorb processing plant. He’d told his children to mind their business while the professor and he worked, and they agreed to stay in their playroom with Fink again. It was for the best. He couldn’t have the fools messing up the way his new partner saw him. Sure, Venomous had been impressed at Shannon and Darrell’s babysitting skills, but there was no telling if they’d continue to sway him.
“Professor Venomous,” Boxman said, a sing-song. He entered the lab with a swing in his step and an intention to awe, yet, paradoxically, not disturb the professor’s work.
The room was bathed in the shivering teal lights of the glorbs. In Boxman’s absence, the professor had opened the front of the large supercomputer on the left hand side of the room. His lower half stuck out of the darkness of the machine’s inner parts. As Boxman approached, Venomous ducked so as not to injure his head while exiting the machine. The glorb tanks cast stars across the goggles pulled tight to his slender face. Venomous pushed the goggles up onto his forehead, forcing his black hair further back. He did not stand. He eyed the mugs in Boxman’s grip and made a pleased sound.
“Black,” Boxman said with a proud tone, holding the “world’s best dad” mug out to the professor. It fit better with him. “Just how you like it, PV.”
“Please don’t call me that,” Venomous said, reaching for the mug.
Boxman felt before he saw Venomous’ fingers brush his claw. His talons scraped the ceramic and he let go; thankfully, the professor had taken the mug with both of his hands before this. Boxman laughed, his face instantly taut and warm.
“Sorry,” he said, holding his own mug to his chest. He could feel his heartbeat through the coffee’s dark atoms. “I’ve just got the worst case of butter fingers sometimes.”
The professor said nothing, only lifting the cup to his lips. He took a sip, then crossed his legs and smiled up at Boxman. Boxman had noticed that Venomous’ eyelids never seemed to lift above his pupils. It was a constant look of pleasure that didn’t quite match his frequent scowls and looks of indifference. Now, though, their lazy physicality made him seem calm.
“Thanks,” the professor said.
“My pleasure,” Boxman said, meaning every word. He peered into the shaft within the supercomputer, but couldn’t make out a thing. Not that he had expected to.
“What are you working on?” he said to the professor.
“I’m making sure your computer can handle what we’re about to unleash onto its motherboard.” Venomous tilted his sharp chin, his eyes darting over the void of the inactive screen. “There’s still a few parts I need to change before we can work with the chip.”
“Take all the time in the world.”
"It'll only take an hour. I just thought it'd be beneficial to have a caffeine break.”
“Oh, well of course. You can’t be drinking coffee and working on such dangerous equipment at the same time. That would be ridiculous!”
“I’m glad you understand,” Venomous said with the tone that always made Boxman unsure if he had said the right thing. He was always thinking with the professor. “I see you’ve made your own cup.”
“Yes, I have. I like my coffee black, too. Isn’t that just a coincidence? We’re very in sync, aren’t we?”
Venomous sighed. He rest his back and the crown of his head against the supercomputer. He closed his eyes and Boxman traced the way his nose came to a gentle point.
“Are you going to sit with me?” the professor said without moving.
“Well, I,” Boxman said. He bit his tongue and cringed. “I would love to! I mean, I would be glad to. I mean, I would-”
Venomous opened his eyes and gave Boxman such a look that he decided he’d made enough of a fool of himself.
“Okay,” Boxman said, and he sat beside the professor.
The two said nothing for a few minutes. The only sounds were the obscured churning of the liquid channeling the glorbs and the strange noises of two people chipping away at a cup of joe. At least, that was all Boxman could hear, besides his own pulse quaking inside of his ear drums.
“I’m glad that this is happening,” Venomous said, lancing the quiet.
“What’s that?” Boxman said. He sat up, attentive, wanting to express attentiveness.
“Us.” The professor chuckled. “You know. This was meant to be. Don’t you feel that, Boxman?”
Boxman did. He felt it very, very strongly. He felt a million things about Venomous that he was incapable of vocalizing. He wanted to change everything with the professor. He wanted to destroy those meddling Lakewood Plaza twerps with this man.
He set his mug down and looked into his palms. The lined, rough orange of the claw, the light green of the flesh and blood. When he saw Venomous, he thought of his age and his weight. Boxman had thought himself not very handsome, not even quite human; the glorb inside his chest ached as much as his heart did. But he didn’t want to feel confused. He wanted to feel sure with someone for once.
“I know that we’ll do great things,” Boxman managed to say, because it was what he felt and worried about.
“Excellent.” Venomous touched his arm. “I love your dedication.”
“Oh. Well, thank you.” Boxman resisted the urge to touch the professor’s hand. For a moment, he thought how pathetic it was to feel this.
Releasing him, the professor lifted his mug to his lips and finished the coffee. He tucked a piece of hair behind his violet ear and pulled his goggles back down.
"When you're finished," Boxman said, hurried, trying to suspend their comradery. "If you'd like, what do you think about going out?"
“Out?” Venomous was not smiling. “In this rain?”
“Well, I know it’s a bit unconventional.” Boxman had not thought about the weather. “I don’t know. A movie? Dinner? I’ll buy, of course.”
Boxman twiddled his thumbs. He wanted to do more than watch the professor work. He needed to know him, somehow. He felt lust in too many ways, when he saw the professor.
Venomous shrugged and moved to re-enter the supercomputer.
“What did you have in mind?” the professor said, head tucked into the darkness.
“Well, I,” Boxman said, clinging to this. “What sounds better to you?”
“I guess dinner would be fine. You don’t have to pay for all of it.” Venomous' voice was muffled in the machine. He climbed deeper inside until only the soles of his boots were visible.
“Oh, but I insist, I," Boxman began to say. He stopped himself. "All right. I'll find something wonderful!”
Feeling unbelievably pleased and overwhelmed, Boxman watched the professor all but disappear into the machine. Then, as the silence grew, he realized he was no longer needed.
Deflating, Boxman returned to his office and looked out the windowed wall onto the bodega, shiny with rain. It was certainly darker than it was before. But, Boxman imagined that didn’t matter to those goody-two-shoes urchins. The heroes were all out there with their disgusting relationships safe and their horrid friendships safe and their putrid little hearts unprovoked by anything but dumb surprise. He envied it and he hated it all at once.