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Aggravated, Dr. Einstein's watches her friend and colleague Tesla rage, perched on her swivel chair like an angry animal.
What she is raging against, is footage of a certain Schicksal Valkyrie S ranker, the Immortal Blade Rita Rossweisse, which she has been studying lately. There is a reason for Tesla's hatred, of course. A few months ago, she was gracefully tied up by the maid (Einstein heard there was even a little bow) and she still hasn't gotten over it. How incredibly petty. How incredibly, endearingly Tesla , too, to hold a grudge over it.
"Alright, that's enough, Dr.Tesla," Einstein cooly interjects. She presses the off button of the monitor, taking away the metaphorical muleta from her bull-headed, red-seeing friend.
Tesla grumbles, but makes no attempt to get the image back, crossing her arms instead. "I hate this woman."
"Would you hate anyone who ties you up?" Einstein asks, taking hold of the back of the swivel chair to wheel Tesla away from the computer. Thankfully, the red-haired scientist zeroes in on the odd question, instead of wondering why she's being pushed to the bedroom.
"What are you saying now, Mophead?"
"The scientist in me has grown curious," Einstein deadpans. "Do you hate being tied up in particular?" They've reached the bedroom. The chair bumps into the bed and stops, jolting its passenger. Tesla shifts around, wrapping both arms around the back of the chair and leaning her chin on top of it.
She narrows her red eyes, suspicious. "I don't think I like where this is going."
...but Einstein is unflappable. "If you don't know, we could test it out."
Red hair, red eyes, red glasses, and now red cheeks. "What?"
Einstein sighs, opens a seemingly random drawer, and magics a rope of silk out of it. "You've been working for three days straight with only five hours of cumulated breaks. If I need to tie you up in order for you to be able to rest, say the word."
"I— Mophead!" Tesla protests, the red now reaching the tips of her ears.
Einstein's stare doesn't leave Tesla, and even the stubborn scientist can feel the judgmental gaze on the heavy bags under her eyes. "I... can take a nap?"
Einstein shakes her head. "You need a full night of sleep. Ideally, more than one."
"I haven't finished reviewing the footage—" Tesla starts to protest, but then Einstein tugs on each end of the rope. It vibrates hypnotically. Menacingly. She slumps, and doesn't resist when Einstein pushes her off the chair and onto her long-unused bed sheets. She flops onto her back. Einstein crawls over next to her, kicking the chair away with her foot.
Einstein takes Tesla's slippers off before helping her wiggle out of her tights and skirt. That's when the tired scientist notices Eins is already dressed up in pajamas. No doubt that, for the third day in a row, she had come to check on whether Tesla was planning to sleep before going herself, and found her friend staying up once again. Perhaps Tesla should feel a little bit bad, but the urge to continue her work is strong, and filling every inch of her with nervous energy. She squirms when her friend starts to pull off the straps of her black top.
"...I'm really not tired," she complains, sitting up to make it easier. She still lets Einstein maneuver her arms out of the loops, and when that's done, she unbuttons the front of the top, and then her shirt. The buttons are being a little bit difficult though. Her coordination is off. By the time she's halfway down, Einstein has both gotten rid of her tie and put away the discarded clothing.
Wordlessly, the blue-haired woman helps her the rest of the way, and slides the shirt off her shoulders. Almost there. Tesla feels blindly underneath the pillow for her nightgown and pulls it on.
"You put it on backwards, it's going to rain," Einstein points out. Tesla sighs and flops back onto the mattress, on her front this time, then unclasps her bra from underneath the dress and throws it somewhere. Can't be bothered to fix the nightgown. Her mind is restless but her body is heavy. Einstein is right, she should rest.
...but as soon as she thinks so, her mind buzzes with a brand new idea, and so her eyes refuse to stay closed. She sits back up, bouncing her leg. “Mophead can you at least give me my notebook and a pen? I had a good idea just now. Last one, I just need to write it down—”
Einstein does not look impressed. Einstein makes no move to find the notebook, and tugs on the rope instead.
Tesla looks away, her thumbs wheeling nervously around each other. “Just one last..?”
“We both know that wouldn’t be the last,” Einstein sighs. Indeed they do. That’s just how Tesla is. She’ll get sidetracked back into work mode even if she swears to only commit a single detail to paper.
So the cool-headed scientist pulls her friend into her arms, in an uncharacteristic hug that does successfully pull up a blank in Tesla’s mind. It’s nice. Rare opportunity. Soft—
Einstein gently wraps her fingers around Tesla’s wrists, and guides them behind her back. Tesla leans further onto her, nuzzling into her shoulder. Einstein tugs Tesla’s hands together.
Tesla closes her eyes, content, and then the silk rope is being wrapped around both her wrists. Dammit Mophead. But she is tired and comfortable, so she lets Eins do her thing, and when she’s done the doctor of physics doesn’t move away.
“There,” Einstein whispers. “Is it too tight?”
Tesla grumpily tests the binding. It’s… fine. She can wriggle her wrists a little, but not enough to pull herself free. When she nods Eins pushes her back down on the bed, grabbing the covers.
“I’ll take care of you, since you can’t take care of yourself right now,” Einstein drawls, and apathy always hangs around her words like perched crows but Tesla feels her cheeks warm anyway.
“You don’t have to…” she mumbles, pulling her legs up against her chest when Einstein tugs the covers off, and then she slides them back down under the blanket. Mophead makes sure to tuck them both in before turning to her.
“Well? Is it so uncomfortable?”
It kind of is, but it is doing a good job at making it physically impossible for Tesla to go back to work. Oh, she could get herself out of the rope somehow— this is her home, she could probably get one of her robots to cut it, and there isn’t a lack of sharp tools either— but there’s more tying her up than silk. Einstein’s blue gaze pins her down into bed just as surely. The psychological cuffs are strong.
Besides, she knows if she was really distressed, Eins would just untie her. That helps a lot. She’s helpless but not out of control, not in danger. It’s a good kind of powerlessness… She can’t move her arms, so she might as well lie down. It’s okay to stop.
“It’s not that unpleasant,” Tesla admits with a huff, “but only because it’s you.”
“Mhm.” Einstein’s lips form a small, dazzling smile. “I’m glad.”