Work Text:
You sit in the corner of Davy and Blank’s Artistry after hours. You were tasked with cleaning their area and, while it was closing time, something had triggered you and flared up your anxiety. You find yourself unable to breathe as you curl up and into yourself, your arms wrapped around your legs as you shake. Your boss, Dylan, is out on break, so he can’t help this time.
“Not like it’s his job, [Y/N].”
You let out a soft yelp as a deep, scottish voice pulls you out of your thoughts. It’s Davy.
“What are you doing, Davy? I thought you and Blank were supposed to be charging.” He lets out a “tsk.” as he sits down next to you. He hovers his left hand near your shoulder and you find yourself leaning toward him. Once your shoulder is against his side, he wraps his arm around your neck and rests his hand on your arm. “I was charging, ye wee fuck. But…” He pauses, looking at Blank. “I heard you panickin’ and, since we were still open and..I don’t quite trust myself off the stage yet, I had to wait until we was closed.” You nod softly and swear, the old bot turned on his internal heater, something that he normally did to help keep staff calm and warm after hours.
You sniffle and wipe your eyes, “I don’t know what caused it, Davy. I was doing fine-” “Did ye take yer pills- er. Your meds?”
After a moment of silence, he laughs softly. “I’ll take that as a no?” You nod softly and turn away. “Oh, kid. You’re okay.” He rubs your arm, “there’s always tomorrow.”
You nod as you feel your consciousness drifting. “Thanks, dad.”
Before you can register what you said, you hear Davy’s response as the darkness of sleep takes a hold.
“Yeah, yeah, bud. Sleep tight.”