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Lee is a man of routine. Every day, he wakes up at the same time, makes himself the exact same breakfast and goes through the same exact chores every day. He has no problem with this and neither do his teammates, so he sees no reason to change things up.
This is exactly why, when the maintenance scheduled to take exactly one hour stretches twenty three minutes more than necessary, to say he’s annoyed is an understatement.
When he opens the door to the headquarters, he expects to find Commandant already asleep at her bed, given that the lights were turned off. Instead, what met him was an open, curious expression from her.
“Do you know how to dance?” she unexpectedly asked with a lazy smile.
A quick scan tells Lee everything he needs to know: she was in no way intoxicated and was very much sober and completely conscious, looking at him expectantly.
Still taken aback, Lee took a moment to recover before replying, “No.”
Her smile only got bigger, “Me neither.”
In one swift movement, her hands met his, gently, before lifting them up, mimicking a popular dance of the Golden Age.
She lead him a few steps away from the door (which, Lee finds himself immensely grateful for, closes automatically moments after they move away)
There was no music playing, but she started swaying on her feet anyway, something Lee found himself following soon after. And in that moment, nothing else mattered.
In that moment, deep down, Lee allowed himself to be selfish; he basks in the proximity, in the feather-light weight of her hands, in the bright color of her eyes, in the way the light peeking from the other room made her look almost ethereal. He relishes this moment, silent and peaceful, relaxing. He finds that he cannot remember why he was annoyed just a minute ago.
It is nice, he decides, to spend time like this - intimate and quiet. Had his heart been made of flesh, it would be beating faster than ever in his chest.
“You’re blushing,” she whispered after some time.
He was, there was no denying it. He’d never done anything like this before, not when he was a human, and certainly not since he became a construct. To him, maybe before, this would be a sign of vulnerability. However, he couldn’t help but feel warm now, safe whenever he was with his commandant. He’d trust her with his life. He already does. “I am.”
She suddenly stops, and Lee starts regretting every single choice he’s made in his entire life, but those thoughts are soon discarded when she pulls him in for a hug, her hands now in his back. Confused, he couldn’t stop the word from spilling out of his mouth: “What?”
She giggles before replying, “So it wasn’t your heat circulation system that was broken, it was you blushing.”
Completely mortified, Lee looks away, feeling bashful. “Yes.”
She pulls away and looks at him. “You’re so cute.”
At that, his gaze finds hers, barely succeeding in schooling his expression into something that is not his eyes peeled open and his jaw on the floor. His vocal module struggles to say something, anything, but the words won’t come out.
It’s at that precise moment when he realizes. She knows what she’s doing. She’s done this all on purpose. He pouts.
This doesn’t faze her in the slightest. With a chuckle, she boops his nose gently before going away.
Frozen in place, he barely registers the sound of the door opening one again, Lucia and Liv making their way in after their respective maintenances are over.
He sighs heavily, ignoring the funny looks he’s getting, and wordlessly makes his way to his own bed.
Liv looks at Lucia and asks, “Is his heat circulation system broken again?”
Lee closes his bedroom's door before he hears Lucia's answer.