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John frowned as he reached to push open the door into Rudy’s lab. Sure, he was pretty used to hearing weird noises coming through that door, but this was very, very different. Feeling almost nervous about what fresh hell he’d be faced with, John slowly pushed open the door.
A bunch of Rudy’s equipment and tables had been pushed to one side of the room, leaving cabling running everywhere. Rudy himself was perched on a table next to what looked like the bottom half on an MX. He was slowly shaking his head as he stared hopeless at the main event in the room: Dorian.
The music John had heard through the door was coming from his mouth – vocals and instrumental, which was unsettling in itself. He had a broom in one hand and was, at first glance, swinging it about wildly, but as John watched it quickly became apparent what was happening. Dorian was dancing. He was dancing really well. John found himself as transfixed as Rudy was, watching Dorian’s perfect footwork while a voice that John was fairy sure belonged to Frank Sinatra poured easily from his mouth. He spun and his gaze landed on John. Dorian’s eyes crinkled in a smile for a moment and then he’d turned away again.
John wended his way around the tables and equipment towards Rudy, stumbling a little when he forgot to look away from Dorian.
"What happened?” he whispered. “I though you were supposed to be repairing him, not reprogramming him.”
"I did. And then I let him get on Youtube.”
"And?”
"And he analyzed a bunch of Fred Astaire videos.”
"I didn’t know people still listened to this kinda music.”
"Dorian isn’t really “people,” though, is he?”
"No, he’s really not,” John said, watching Dorian move with a slightly glazed expression.
The music rose and Dorian’s footwork became, somehow, even more complex as he began working chairs and tables into his path. He leapt onto the new levels as if it were completely natural, no different from taking a step down the street. John was finding it really hard to look away.
"Pack up, let's fly away!”
Dorian finished the dance on a table next to John in a perfect pose that he held for a moment before lights danced up his face and a new song began to issue from his mouth, this one slower and in a woman’s voice. He held out his hand to John and smiled.
"I don’t dance,” said John at once. If he even tried to do half of what Dorian had been up to, he’d break his human leg – maybe even the synthetic one too. He could move through a firefight like it was nothing, but moving to a beat was not a skill John had ever picked up. Anna used to tease him about it.
"Stars shining bright above you.” The lyrics flowed gently out of Dorian’s mouth and John felt something in him melting. His hand seemed to be moving towards Dorian’s of its own accord when he heard a soft cough behind him.
"Um?” asked Rudy.
John felt himself flush, but Dorian seemed totally unconcerned and the music kept playing.
"You’re freaking me out playing music outta your mouth like that,” John snapped.
Dorian just shrugged, but the music cut off.
"Next time you “fix” him, could you not do whatever the hell that was?”
"That was all him, I told you,” Rudy said, holding his hands out in surrender.
John ignored him, turning to Dorian.
"We have a case,” he said, before turning and heading towards the door.
"Okay, man,” Dorian replied easily. “Thanks, Rudy.”
"You sure you’re alright?”
"Fine,” John said, wiping away a thin trickle of blood that had escaped out from under the bandage above his eye. “Let’s just get you back to the lab.”
"I’m really okay.”
John stopped and glared at Dorian for a moment before yanking up the clean T-shirt they’d gotten from the EMTs. A divot the size of softball and oozing light blue was centered in Dorian’s chest plate. Dorian smiled at him gently and moved John’s hand away, letting the shirt fall back into place.
"It doesn’t hurt. It’ll be an easy fix.”
They started walking again in silence until Dorian began softly humming, notes filling the empty hallway until lyrics began to come out, this time in Dorian’s own voice.
"Unforgettable, that's what you are.”
John let him do it, figuring maybe he had gotten some wires crossed somewhere in the fighting.
"How the thought of you does things to me. Never before has someone been more unforgettable.”
The song was soft and gentle and surely Dorian didn’t mean anything by it and thank god there was the door into the lab.
"Dorian. We’re here.”
"Oh. Right,” he said, the music dying at once.
John opened the door for him and waited for him to go through.
"I think Rudy’s gone home already,” Dorian said.
"Yeah, but he can patch you up in the morning. You’ll be okay here.”
Dorian nodded, but he seemed somewhat despondent.
"You alright?”
"I told you I’d be fine,” Dorian assured him.
"Right.”
John turned to go, but stopped after a few steps.
"Why were you singing that?”
"I thought it was nice. You seemed tense.”
"You were trying to calm me down?” he asked with a slightly amused smile.
"I guess.” Dorian shrugged.
"No one listens to that kinda music anymore, you know.”
"Yeah, but it’s nice.”
"Yeah,” said John after a moment. “I guess it is.” He shuffled awkwardly. “I didn’t know you could sing.”
"John,” Dorian said, giving him an almost pitying look. “I can do anything.”
"But that was your voice.”
Dorian just shrugged.
"I guess I should get home.”
"Yeah.”
Dorian turned away, picking his way through the debris to the space that he’d cleared earlier that day. John could tell from the way he moved that something was wrong, but he didn’t know what it was or what to do about it. Maybe Dorian was just upset that John had gotten hurt on his watch. After all, it was his job to keep his partner safe.
"Well, goodnight.”
Dorian didn’t reply as John left.
He paused outside the door and leant against it. He was exhausted and it was going on three in the morning. He didn’t know what might be wrong with Dorian. Maybe downloading a bunch stuff that wasn’t relevant to his work had somehow messed with his systems. He’d have to ask Rudy in the morning. He was about to leave when he heard soft music through the door again.
Now you say you're lonely
You cried the long night through
Well, you can cry me a river, cry me a river
I cried a river over you
John didn’t know the song, but the sentiment was clear nonetheless.
He sighed and then pushed the door open again.
"Dorian,” he said softly.
The bot was sitting in the middle of the empty space. There was a computer on in front of him and the music was coming from there, accompanied by a grainy video of a woman singing. Dorian rose and turned with perfect grace at the sound of the door opening.
"John?”
"Hey.” John rammed his hands into his pockets and moved careful back towards Dorian.
"What’s going on?” he asked when he’d reached him.
Dorian shrugged again.
"Whatever it is, you can tell me,” he said, trying not to get frustrated.
"I don’t really know how.”
John frowned and waited, hoping Dorian would elaborate.
"This music speaks to me, John,” Dorian said, turning back to the computer. “It says things I don’t know how to.”
"What do you want to say?”
Dorian frowned, color dancing in his face as he searched for something. After a moment, he went to the computer and pulled up a new song.
The video seemed to feature the same woman and Dorian closed his eyes and swayed a little to the music.
Every time we say goodbye, I die a little
Every time we say goodbye, I wonder why a little
Why the Gods above me, who must be in the know
Think so little of me, they allow you to go
Dorian moved with hands half-raised like he wanted to be dancing with an invisible partner, but didn’t want to do so in front of John, despite his display with the broom earlier.
John watched the calm yet sorrowful look on Dorian’s face and felt like a complete tool. How could he have been so stupid? Well, because it didn’t make sense. Why would Dorian care about him like that? Sure, it was Dorian’s job to look after him, but that was it. He knew Dorian was different from the other bots and, yeah, it had crossed his mind that Dorian could love. But not him. Never him.
But how strange the change from major to minor
Every time we say goodbye
John stepped forward into Dorian’s arms.
Dorian stopped swaying for a moment, but then began moving again, sliding a hand gently to the back of John’s neck and taking one of John’s hands in his. John uncertainly rested his other hand on Dorian’s lower back and let the bot steer them in a slow circle even though he was fairly sure he was in the leading pose. They rocked gently until the song ended. John held Dorian for a moment until Dorian met his eyes at last.
"So you want to try something faster?”
"Oh hell no.”
"We can take it slow,” Dorian said, smiling.
John rolled his eyes.
"Maybe one day even something a little more modern.”
Dorian just rolled his eyes right back and shook his head.
"Try this one,” he said, pulling his hand from John’s to work the computer without taking the other from John’s neck.
The next song was a little faster, though not by much.
I get no kick from champagne
Mere alcohol doesn't thrill me at all
So tell me why should it be true
That I get a kick out of you?
"So who is this lady?” John asked as Dorian moved him through the simplified dance.
"Ella Fitzgerald. 1917 to 1996. American jazz vocalist who—.”
"Okay, I don’t need the Wikipedia article.”
"Alright.”
They kept swaying, Dorian slowly adding more movement to the dance.
"Shouldn’t you be leading?” John asked. “I mean, you’re doing it anyway.”
"I thought you wouldn’t like taking the traditionally subordinate part.”
John raised an eyebrow.
"You mean the woman’s part? You think I care about that shit?”
"You’re a strange man, John,” he said, easily switching the position of his hands with John’s.
"Look who’s talking.”
Dorian shook his head and sent John into a slow spin.
"There’s a line in this song that isn’t right.”
"Hm?” asked Dorian.
"You obviously don’t adore me,” John quoted.
"Oh?”
John was about to go on when the song ended and Dorian was back at the computer finding a new one.
This number was sung by a man and was, in John’s eyes, worryingly upbeat. Dorian seemed unperturbed and easily guided John through the faster moves. He kept it much simpler than what he’d been doing earlier.
And I seem to find the happiness I seek
When we're out together dancing cheek to cheek
"Would you, you know, be seen out with me?” Dorian asked.
"I’m seen out with you all the time,” John said, wishing Dorian would shut up. He was distracting enough without talking and the dancing was taking all the focus he could muster.
"That’s not what I meant.”
"Oh?”
"People don’t really approve of this sort of thing, do they?”
"Fuck ‘em,” John said without hesitation.
Dorian laughed and fell silent for the rest of the song.
When it ended, John held onto him, not letting him leave to put on another song.
"Had enough?” Dorian teased.
"I told you I didn’t dance.”
"I promise not to tell.”
John smiled at him for a moment.
"I should get back, though. We’ve still got to interrogate the bastard in the morning.”
Dorian nodded, looking a little disappointed.
"And you probably need to charge. This better not a low battery fluke.”
"It’s not,” Dorian assured him.
"Good.”
John stood there for a moment, knowing he should leave, but not wanting to.
"Go home, John.”
John nodded, not trusting himself with words.
"I’ll see you tomorrow,” Dorian said.
"You’ll see Rudy tomorrow. I want you patched up.”
Dorian gave him a sarcastic little salute.
"Get some sleep,” he told John.
"Yeah.”
Again, John failed to leave.
"Go.”
Dorian stepped in to push John towards the door, but, somehow, ended up kissing him instead. If pressed later, each would claim the other started it, but neither moved to stop it. It was brief and John left afterwards with only a smile, but he knew that, despite the violence of the day, he would dream of something nice for a change.