Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

N rubs his chin thoughtfully, surveying the colorful properties and game pieces scattered across the board. He idly shakes his fist, brows knit together in thought as he lets the dice fall from his hand. 

“One, two, three, four, five…” 

With a sly grin, he makes his move.

“Aha!” 

Uzi laughs, slamming her hand on the table. “Park place is ours! Nice thinking, buddy." 

The smallest of the three reaches over, ruffling his silver hair playfully. 

His eyes widen at the unexpected praise before that warm, radiant smile blooms dumbly across his face. It’s accompanied by a pleasant rumbling sound emanating from his chassis as his tail begins wagging enthusiastically, thumping against the couch cushions.

J narrows her eyes as she watches N preen under Uzi's praise like some pathetic lapdog. How embarrassing . 

She makes sure to fix him with a withering glare as she crosses her arms against her chest. "Beginner's luck," she sneers. 

As if a simpleton like him could ever strategize well enough to win monopoly through anything but sheer dumb chance. 

He looks entirely blissed, shamelessly nudging into her fingers as they rifle through his hair, his purr growing louder with each scratch of the top of his head. J shoots a sidelong glance at V, who shrugs bemusedly before they both turn their attention back to them. 

“Ahem.” 

J clears her throat pointedly, watching Uzi almost immediately stop. N’s back stiffens as he coughs and sits up straight, the happy rumble trailing off into an awkward silence. 

"Ah, sorry," N murmurs politely, rubbing the back of his neck with a nervous chuckle. "I got a bit carried away there, didn't I?"

Huffing quietly, J’s arms tighten. She catches V's eye again, and for a moment, they share a silent, conflicted look. 

“What?” Uzi teases. “ You guys feeling left out or something?”

“That’s ridiculous.” V shoots back matter-of-factly, though the subtle twitch of her own tail, and the lack of bite in her remark seems to allude a different story than what she’s supposedly letting on. 

J remains quiet, eyes narrowing. 

“Oh my god, I was joking, relax.” Uzi laughs out teasingly. “Are you two serious?” 

“Of course not, What kind of idiot would want—Ah!” 

Her breath hitches in her throat as J watches this useless purple toaster lean over her boyfriend’s lap, fingers delicately lacing themselves in the soft, silvery tresses of V’s hair. 

Just like that, V, The Serial designation V, responsible for the death of thousands, the cold, ruthless huntress of steel, ice, and snow, is putty in Uzi’s hands. Her eyes hollow, shoulders visibly relaxing as that same rumble emitted from N’s throat earlier, albeit more unconsciously, fills the air alongside the quiet thrashing of a tail.

“Who’s a good girl?” Uzi asks with a near mocking tone, giggles lacing her voice as the purring noise grows louder. 

It's almost obscene , the way she melts into a vibrating puddle under those deft ceramic fingers carding through her bob. J can only gape in disbelief as V's icy veneer cracks, a sick sense of fascination blooming in the pit of her tanks. 

V shoves her roughly away, visor flushed. “Brat.”

Uzi laughs, swatting away her hands playfully as she stumbles backward. There’s a brief silence as they all stare at each other, the remnants of rattling metal cutting through the quiet before Uzi’s attention flicks to J, her head turning with a near predatory grin. 

A shiver of anticipation involuntarily runs through her chassis, servos locking up as she tenses defensively. There’s a deeper, sick part of J that’s entirely fixated on the subtle thrums of contentment, the relaxed postures, imagining what it might feel like to let her guard down like that. To be touched, caressed, praised...

Don't be pathetic.

She clenches her fists, pressing her lips into a thin line as her tail lashes behind her tensely. 

"Don't you dare," she warns. Her core thunders in her chest as Uzi's grin widens.

"Aaaaaand, gotcha!"

In a flash, she descends on her like a hawk, leaping forward and clambering her towering frame.

J yelps as she feels a weight settle on her shoulders, the sensation of tiny digits splaying across her scalp and tousling her bangs in a playful noogie. 

Instinctively trying to jerk away, J adopts a motion akin to a mechanical bull in a vain attempt to dislodge her—but Uzi's grip is surprisingly strong—clinging to her like a stubborn barnacle. 

"Get off me, twerp!"

She can feel her visor flushing hot with embarrassment as knuckles grind teasingly against her, and a strangled, involuntary whirring noise rumbles from deep within her, much to her mortification.

She can feel N and V's amused stares burning into her.

Why are they staring? Is this funny to them? 

Grinding her teeth, J clamps her jaw shut to smother the traitorous purr threatening to escape. She refuses, REFUSES to give them the satisfaction of seeing her come undone like a blubbering idiot. She’s better than this. 

Struggling, she quickly reaches up to seize Uzi by the scruff of her collar, and with a heave of effort, she throws her off, snapping back like a tightly coiled spring. 

Uzi impishly rocks back onto her haunches and looks entirely too pleased with herself as her feet hit the floor in a catlike motion, wing span unfurling to beat at the ground gracefully.

Bristling, J straightens out her ruffled hair, pulling herself together into a semblance of composure as she shoots Uzi a scalding look. Her insides feel like they're boiling from the humiliating, unwanted tingling feeling deep in her gut. 

“People like you are the reason why HR was established.” She sputters indignantly.

“And you!” 

J snaps her gaze to N and V as they exchange nervous glances, pointing at each other in confusion.

"V-Violation of workplace policy!" She blusters, straightening her posture. "Gross misconduct bordering on sexual harassment! This is an absolute failure to maintain professionalism!”

Her tail whips behind her agitatedly as the words pour out in a defensive stream. 

Much to J’s horror, Uzi's laugh turns into a delighted cackle. 

"Oh my robo-god, you are such a frikkin’ riot!" She wheezes, wiping away a mirthful tear. "Where do you even get this stuff?"

Metallic digits poke teasingly at her cheek, barely holding back a snicker as J’s face shifts with the motion. "What's the matter, J? Did I ruffle your feathers a little too hard?" She leans in with a mocking pout. "Do you need to file an official grievance with the Council of Workplace Frivolity?"

N holds up his palms in a placating gesture, trying to lighten the mood with an awkward chuckle. "O-Okay, Let's not let things get too out of hand here. We're all just having a bit of fun, Right?"

V scoffs, flicking her thumb dismissively at the smallest of the four. "This dummy started it." Her lips quirk into a sly grin as she arches a brow at J. "But hey, if Ms. Corporate cog is feeling left out, I'm sure we could unionize and file a formal complaint ."

She leans back with faux nonchalance. "You know, for unsafe working conditions or something. Give you a chance to tighten those regulations again."

Teasing fingers continue to graze her face, the touch sending an illicit shiver across her plating and before she can stop herself, J’s hand lashes out, seizing Uzi's wrist in a vice-like grip with a snarl. 

For a split second, raw fury blazes in her chest as her processor is flooded with the primal urge to tear this infuriating little scrapheap limb from limb. 

Why, she outta…

No shorter is her gaze then brought back to the other disassemblers watching with rapt attention, that reality comes crashing back. V’s tail flicks behind her warningly, caught halfway between standing up before N places a hand on her leg, motioning for her to sit back down, and J forces herself to release Uzi's arm with a disgusted shove. 

"S-Shut up!" She snaps, absolutely resenting how her voice stutters. 

With a noise of contempt, J whips around and storms off, the rapid clicking of her pegs against the floor the only sound as she retreats to her room.

Stupid, stupid! Look at you, you incompetent pile of bolts - You’re a perfectly designed weapon of destruction, not some….hormonal human teenager!

This is ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous!

Stomping over to flop face-down on her berth, she lets out a frustrated, muffled scream into her pillow.

-

What usually is a sanctuary of cold order to J feels like a cage tonight. She sprawls face-down on her bed, any efforts of chasing away the gnawing embarrassment proving to be… frustratingly futile. 

Her hands absentmindedly find their way into her pigtails, smoothing them out in a compulsory, repetitive motion, something of an old habit that never seemed to die off. With it comes that infernal rumble emanating from underneath her plating, reverberating through her frame much like the one she'd disdainfully scoffed off from the others earlier. 

The sound only serves to deepen her frustration, deepening in pitch as she scornfully laces her fingers through the tresses at the top of her head. 

Behind her, J’s tail thrashes irritably, and with a low groan, she rolls over onto her back and stares up at the ceiling. She can practically hear the processor whirring in her head as she tries to make sense of…really anything at all. 

It was a…momentary lapse in control. 

Yes, t-that’s it. Nothing more. 

As the moments tick by, her thrashing slows, her breathing steadies, and her thoughts begin to untangle. 

Her gaze falls upon her hands, which have found themselves back on her chest, and  without thinking, she returns them to the top of her head once more, fingers moving in a much slower, deliberate motion. 

She remembers the way Uzi's fingers had grazed N’s scalp, and how…nice, that must have felt, if a playful noogie was able to rip those noises out of her like some kind of horrible malfunction. 

The soft laughter, the gentle sway of tails, the relaxing of shoulders. She imagines much more organic fingers in place of her own, the soft pillow underneath her turning to a lap draped in a satin dress as she lays in the balmy shade of a tree, Tessa’s warm ministrations–

A shiver runs down her spine. 

You’re over this. Don’t start. 

She shoves the thought down before she can ruminate too hard on it. Tonight wasn’t the night for some sort of relapse.

Still, there’s an overwhelming sadness that overtakes her, longing, nostalgia, grief…all rolled into a messy sandwich of feelings that makes her core twist. J winces, her fingers stilling slightly before continuing. 

With her chest rising and falling in deliberate rhythm, a soothing comfort begins to gnaw at the edges of her malaise, gentle fingers filing through silver strands providing a much-needed relief to her tension. 

It's only when the sensation starts to crest, an unfamiliar warmth pooling in her gut that sends a tingling feeling down her legs that she lets out a strained whimper, and abruptly, J ceases, her hands falling flat against the bed. With a huff, she forces herself to sit up, swinging her legs over the edge and staring blankly at the floor. The room suddenly feels impossibly empty .

Stop it. She scolds herself, biting down on her lip. 

Despite her best efforts to quell...whatever in the hell her sorry excuse for a processor was trying to cook up, she can’t stop her thoughts from wandering.

Is she still awake? ... Are they still awake?

Her internal voice bothers. 

Who are you kidding? When did you care? Why do you care? You don't care. 

J stands abruptly, beelining to the corner of her room in a bid to dispel whatever restless energy is buzzing inside her, and begins to pace, clenching and unclenching her fists as her tail lashes frustratedly. 

The repetitive clink of her pegs against the floor echo off the walls of her confined space as her mind wages a quiet war, one thought tumbling over another, each one more frenzied than the last.

N’s…stupid genuine smile, V’s stupid teasing smirk, and Uzi’s stupid touches–Ugh! 

Awful, awful drones. They were like a virus burrowing into her code and refusing to be purged. 

You don't need them. You’ve never needed anyone. Not after...

Stop thinking about her. Stop.

She halts mid-stride, staring at her reflection in the mirror across the room. 

Absolutely ridiculous. You’re better than this.

Freezing, J’s attention falls onto the door as her annoyance fizzles out, leaving her feeling… strangely hollow. She knows she should probably dismiss it—a silly whim, an intrusive thought—but a part of her can’t help but wonder...

What are they doing now? Are they... thinking about her? Have they thought about her…? 

Her pride protests, screaming at her to stay put, but, as if they possess a will of their own, J finds her feet inching closer. 

With a resigned sigh, she reaches for the opening mechanism, fingers trembling ever so slightly. 

Just... check. They're probably fine. Not that you care. But just... check.

Biting her lip hard enough to hear a slight grind of metal, she gingerly presses the button and steps into the quiet hallway. Her chassis hums low in the cool air, and the distant sound of machinery flickers under her consciousness like a comforting white noise as she moves silently, calculating her every step until she finds herself standing before the door directly across, her own mocking her from behind.

You don't have to do this. Turn back. Just…Forget about it.

But she can't. As if driven by something hauntingly akin to hope, she raises her hand and raps lightly on the door's surface. 

Then, she waits. 

There's a shifting, the sound of someone moving, and J can almost feel her resolve starting to crumble when in the deafening silence, a voice reaches out from beyond the door. 

“Hello?” 

Core hammering like a mismatched drum, the hesitation returns like a tidal wave. J opens her mouth to speak but can’t find any words to parse herself. 

Mother of corporate, just say something! Don't make this more humiliating than it already is.

Her voice is tight, quiet as she clears her throat, ripping her fingers away from the metal as if it was burning her hand. 

"It's…me." She says dumbly, immediately kicking herself for the lack of a smarter response. 

From the other side, J hears whispering.

"Are you going to get it?"

"Quiet, N!"

"Is she still there?"

Then, a more distinct voice speaks up, unmistakably Uzi's. "You can come in."

Hand hovering over the button, J swallows down a nervous lump, and with a hiss, the bay slides open. 

She…doesn't know exactly what she expected to see, but it wasn't…this. 

J freezes at the threshold, her gaze immediately drawn to N's bed which sags slightly under the combined weight of the three drones sprawled in its sheets. 

They both curl around her like affectionate big cats, purring in contentment as Uzi sits upright and cross legged between them, both of her hands occupied by delicate strokes across gently tousled hair and loosely clothed frames. V’s tail twitches as she opens one eye lazily, cocking her head to stare at her through the veil of her bangs. 

Her core jumps with a touch of something J dares not name. She suddenly feels…entirely out of place. 

"What... what are you guys doing?"

Uzi’s cheeks puff up indignantly as color floods her visor. "Y-You're the one who asked to come in. Why are you making it weird?” 

J's own face flushes in return, opening and closing her fists repeatedly at her sides as she’s suddenly unsure where to even put her hands. "I'm not!”

Her face feels like it's on fire as she takes a deep breath, fidgeting with her fingers as she shifts her weight from foot to foot hesitantly. 

Sedately, N looks up from his spot, blinking out of sync from where he lays sprawled out on his back. He opens his mouth like he's about to say something, but it’s V, of all the ones who could speak, that interrupts, eyes half-lidded as she nestles incrementally closer into Uzi's touch. 

"It feels really nice."

Gaze shifting abruptly to V, J’s mouth hangs ajar like some sort of… idiot as she tries to formulate a response. She’s completely unable to look away, chest panging with a mixture of…confusion? longing…? Envy? 

“K-Keeping your team building exercises secret is detrimental to the overall morale of the workspace, you know,”

Uzi scoffs. “Dude, are you for real?”

J grits her teeth, annoyance bubbling up. "I..I just wasn't prepared for an informal convergence!”

"Whatever. Look, you can join us if you want. You don’t need to make a whole big deal out of it."

The words, as casual as they are, hit J like a freight train. 

Hesitating, she shoots a glance at N, who offers a tentative smile, and then at V, who merely shifts slightly to make more room. 

"I- I would need a formal invitation." she stammers, suddenly feeling very small. 

Shaking her head with a bemused look, Uzi rolls her eyes.. 

"Fine, Serial Designation J . You're formally invited to join us. Is that official enough for you?"

J swallows hard, suddenly hyper-aware of her every movement as she steps further into the room, and with an ounce more of hesitation, she awkwardly clambers onto the bed, sitting stiffly at the edge. 

The smallest of the four sighs dramatically and beckons her closer. 

"Come on, man. We're not gonna bite.”  

A wry smirk curls its way onto her lips. “Well, not unless you ask nicely."

The quip makes J's chest tighten with irritation. 

"I didn't come here to be ridiculed," she retorts.

N, ever the peacemaker, offers her a gentle smile, his tail wagging slightly from where it lays draped around Uzi’s waist. "It's okay, buddy. Just... relax.”

Easier said than done. She opens her mouth to snap back, but for once, decides impulsivity may be better left off reigned in. 

"I came here to… ensure team synergy. Nothing more." She immediately regrets how stiff she sounds.

Uzi's derisive snort pulls her back to the present. “Dude, You're wound up tighter than... Ugh, I don’t know, whatever corporate metaphor you’d probably use.”

“I'm not wound up!” J snaps back. 

Uzi quirks an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Sure, and I'm the CEO of JCJenson." 

“Well,” N interjects, “I-I mean, she does have a point…” 

“What. What do you know?” She growls back. So much for feigning annoyance. 

He flinches slightly, the rumble briefly faltering with the offensive quip. Raising his hands, N shifts back, almost instinctively hiding behind his girlfriend as J’s stare meets his own. 

“I, I just–” He begins. “Well, what do you do to relax?”

J lets out an exasperated sigh, the notion of entertaining that question with an answer making her more inclined to vomit her lunch onto the floor. “I-It’s complicated.” She starts, puffing out her chest as she adjusts her shoulders. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.” 

“Try us.” Uzi challenges, raising a brow. 

Hesitating, J goes quiet, allowing the deafening silence of the room to take hold again as three pairs of eyes settle on her expectantly. 

Yes, you’re definitely going to admit to your… coworkers that you watch clips of your dead crush to emotionally regulate. That’s totally something normal that everyone does. Definitely. 

“ I’ve been practicing mindfulness. ” She lies confidently, closing her eyes as she holds out a finger. “You know, they hold some exemplary yoga classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays in bay 4.”

“Something tells me you’re not being very honest.” V says knowingly.

“Nobody asked you!”  

Uzi stifles a snicker. 

This is stupid. This was stupid. Why was she here?

Why was she here? What was she doing?

Fixing her glare on the other drones, J wrinkles the space where her nose would be before letting out a huff, making a motion to get up off the bed before she’s interrupted by a soft voice. 

“Hey,” Uzi says. 

J barely feels the desire to look over her shoulder. 

“We’re just teasing.” She clears her throat awkwardly. “Don’t go, please.”

J’s anger momentarily dissipates as she glances back at them, and for a moment, she heavily considers the thought of turning on her heel and stomping out of the room. And yet, she stays. 

“Then stop…stop making fun of me.” She murmurs embarrassingly. 

“Okay, Okay,”

With a petite hand, Uzi makes a small motion towards herself. 

“C’mere.”

When J doesn’t move, she rubs her fingers together enticingly, clicking her tongue in the same way you would call a nervous cat. 

“Pspspspsps…”

“I’m not an animal.”

The heat radiating from the trio borders on a near unbearable level as she realizes she’s in a very unfamiliar proximity, suddenly aware that not even her… experiences within her own head would prepare her for something so…tangible. 

Stiffly, J shuffles closer, clutching her arms close to her chest in an attempt to maintain some semblance of defensiveness as a pang of reluctance reverberates through it. 

Creaking slightly beneath her weight, the mattress sags further, and V moves to resr her head back in Uzi’s lap, closing her eyes once again as she chuffs serenely.

“There you go, just like that.” The smallest speaks up again as she meets J’s gaze, which she immediately averts to the floor as she feels the faint brush of V’s tail curling around the base of her abdomen, guiding her closer as she uneasily finds her place between them. J sucks in a breath caught in her chest as Uzi’s hand wraps around her shoulder and cradles her closer to their forms. 

It’s…surprisingly gentle. Comforting. Entirely overwhelming. 

“Not so bad, right…?"

J grimaces. "I suppose it's... tolerable," 

She shudders slightly as she tentatively leans against Uzi’s midriff, and there’s an immediate urge to pull away as a hand finds hers, ghosting across the back of her palm in a silent request to interlock their fingers. She blinks slightly, looking up to meet N’s gaze glowing in the darkness of the room, and she can feel a faint blush creeping onto her cheeks as her wrist goes limp, allowing him to snake his digits in between her own. 

He squeezes her hand lightly, the three disassemblers letting out a sigh in near unison as J is finally disarmed, and slowly, hesitantly, she allows herself to nuzzle further into the soft fabric of her shirt, her head resting beneath the curve of Uzi’s chin. 

This was so strange. It felt… wrong . 

…But at the same time, it felt... right . J can’t quite explain the twisting feeling in her chest as she relaxes just a bit more, tense wires and servos gradually loosening as she melts just that much more. 

Uzi’s hand quietly hovers over the top of her head, hesitating before burying down to the surface of her scalp and stroking gently. The only thing J can do is suppress the whine it draws out of her–the noise immediately followed by a low buzz that vibrates in her throat. 

Gradually, their touches become more frequent—fingers brushing against her arm, a tail curling around her waist, the gentle press of a body against hers. Each one chips away at her defenses, and J finds herself unconsciously seeking out more contact, letting her eyes flutter closed, and taking in a deep breath as she remembers her.  

Tessa’s hand gently ruffles her hair in her private headspace, splayed out on the bench J had so tenderly caressed her face, and to the sound of that voice – soft, reassuring, infuriatingly tender, she had mustered up the stomach to kiss her, flesh meeting metal in a union so forbearing it couldn’t be described with words.  

Her shoulders begin to tremble, the motion subtle at first but becoming more pronounced with each second. 

Uzi's hand stills, and J’s breath hitches uncomfortably. 

The purring from N and V halts as well and the room descends into an unsettling quiet, thick with the weight of her barely contained sorrow.

“J…?”

The phantom pressure of soft fingers across her chassis, the hand that had brushed her cheek with such reverence… 

Swallowing, she beats the thought down in her head with a metaphorical wiffle bat. 

“I’m fine.” 

She wants to pretend she can’t notice the three others exchanging awkward glances. 

A pair of arms immediately wrap around her from behind, the soft whirr of an engine resounding in V's chest as J recognizes her presence–No sooner than which she notices N's hand grasping her own just that much tighter.

Uzi, despite her small size, nestles closer, making an…albeit stiff but genuine attempt to embrace the three of them. Her hands flutter uncertainly over J's shaking form before awkwardly settling on the area where her neck would meet her shoulder.

She is painfully aware of just how pathetic she must look right now, nestled up against beings she's fervently judged as less than herself for so long–however right now, she’d be utterly embarrassed to admit just how comfortable she is. 

Still, J can't help but feel a sting of shame.

N's voice is soft but clear when he speaks, halting the silence that had fallen over them. "If this is too much… we can stop. It's okay."

"I don't need… I don't need coddling!" She hisses back irritably as she rubs a plaintive hand across her visor, wiping away the tears in her eyes that never quite fell. She huffs, pulling away slightly, only to feel the gentle but firm resistance of the arms around her, urging her to stay.

“You. Hush.” V grumbles, still wrapped around J’s form. She nestles into the back of her neck, her breath sending a tingle down to the base of her spine. 

Up close, J can smell the faint, metallic tang of Uzi's frame, feel the thrum of her inner workings.

It's... not entirely unpleasant.

Then her hand is in her hair again, carding through the silken strands with practiced ease, and J can't stifle the full-body shiver it leaves behind. 

She chuckles, light and melodic. "There we go."

In her daze, she barely registers V shifting behind her until there's another set of hands on her, rubbing slow, soothing circles over the taut servos of her shoulders and back. A startled gasp catches in J's throat, only to be chased by a low, blissful noise. 

“Is this…good?” Comes the voice behind unsure.

"T-this is..." J swallows, entirely flustered by how undone she already feels under their touches. "Different..."

“Good different…?” Comes N’s soft voice from the other side of the worker, tracing patterns along J’s forearm reverently.

An appreciative groan escapes her as weathered hands knead her spine, and J arches unconsciously into her frame in a silent beg for more, all pretense of pride evaporating as V molds herself along J's back, powerful arms encircling her waist as a curtain of silver hair brushes her cheek. 

The proximity of her former coworkers - her teammates, her...friends? - should make her feel trapped, suffocated by their affection.

And yet, J has never felt so deliciously vulnerable.

“Y-Yeah.” She chokes out, barely audible. 

Uzi hums a soothing tune, her dexterous fingers tracing tingling paths along her head and shoulders, and J’s voice tapers off into a helpless whine escaping her lips. 

"That's it..." Uzi murmurs, her hand drifting lower to trace the curves of her face-plate, cupping her cheek and tilting her head closer to her chest. 

A full-body shudder wracks J at the endearment, fresh waves of heat pulsing through her neural sensors. She squeezes N's hand almost bruisingly tight, pulling a soft gasp from him–however, he doesn’t pull away. 

Behind her, V rumbles a possessive purr, and she jolts again as blunted teeth graze the base of J's nape. She squirms, twisting her thighs together in a wantonness she’d likely kick herself in the clarity of what she can only anticipate as the start of…

Oh. Oh Robo-god. 

Was she serious?

Were they serious?

The thought is both thrilling and terrifying, sparking primal urges she’d never even thought to explore. It's almost too much - their hands, their mouths...and yet, it still didn’t feel like enough. She wants more. 

Nope. Terrifying, actually. It’s just terrifying. 

Did she seriously want to have sex with these morons?

With a shuddering gasp, J wrenches herself out of V’s arms, scrambling back to the foot of the bed. They pause, concern etched on their faces as they share a slightly perturbed glance between one another, then turning their attention back to her. 

J shakes her head. "I-I can't do this," she stammers out. 

Uzi's expression shifts subtly as she sits up a little straighter, obviously frazzled by the sudden movement. “What the heck, J!–!”

Chest feeling impossibly tight, J's first instinct is to retaliate. "E xcuse me for not being a mindless… floozy who throws herself at anyone who shows her an ounce of attention!" She snaps, her tone going icy.

“Are you serious right now?” Uzi shakes her head, baffled. “Dude, If you’re going to be awful you can just go, nobody’s like…keeping you here.” 

From beside her, V quirks a brow, obviously equally unimpressed with her behavior. 

Putting a gentle hand on Uzi’s shoulder as she opens her mouth again to presumably go off on a famous tangent, N shoots her a cautionary look, and the smallest of the three takes a deep breath. 

“Okay! Okay.” She says, closing her eyes. 

“Look, buddy…” He begins, his voice irritatingly quiet on J’s audials. It feels more condescending to her than reassuring, as if he was talking to her like she’d spook and bolt for the hills if anyone made a sudden movement. “It’s okay if you aren’t comfortable doing this, we just thought maybe…”

Ugh!!! 

J reams herself internally. She hates this. She hates that he’s right. She hates that she likes the idea of it. 

Why is she so stuck? 

And why is she being so mean?

“I just–I-I’ve never done this before, okay?!” 

V cocks her head. “What? What did you mean, didn’t you…”

Her visor flushes impossibly hot. “T-That doesn’t count! I’ve never done anything with…other…drones…” 

“That explains a lot.” Uzi grumbles sarcastically. J’s tail thrashes.

“I don’t need the attitude.” 

“You started it!”

“Ugh!” J whines loudly, her hands finding her pigtails and yanking on them as she curls up like a pill bug on herself, thumping her screen against her knees that are drawn to her chest. 

There’s silence for a while, the only noise breaking it being the soft shuffle of sheets or the occasional mechanical noise of their optics blinking. 

Eventually, a weight settles itself down in front of her, the warmth of another presence drawing closer. J snaps her head up, eyes hollowing as she’s met with V’s, staring intensely at her from a few inches away. 

“Hey,” She starts. 

J’s shoulders tense, immediately averting her gaze as her core whirrs anxiously. She never seen V so…close…to her. It was… weird. 

A hand finds its way to her cheek, stroking her faceplate tenderly, and J jumps in her spot, looking back up to meet the lights of her own eyes reflecting off V’s visor.

“Can I kiss you?” 

Her breath hitches, entire body tensing as she worries her bottom lip between her teeth,  mental algorithms caught in a loop of conflicting desires and corporate-honed decorum. She's a model of efficiency, a paragon of control - and yet, here she is, teetering on the edge of a decision that has nothing to do with logic or protocol.

"I-I don't..." She stammers back, the words dying in her vocoder as V holds her gaze captive. 

She is acutely aware of the others watching, the tension in the room palpable. N offers her a small, encouraging thumbs up, while Uzi's earlier defensiveness seems to have melted away into curiosity. 

With a shaky exhalation, J gives a hesitant nod. 

V is…tender, with the way she presses into her lips. She tilts her head to the side, mouth carefully moving against J’s, and the other disassembler can’t help but be acutely, painfully aware of the thwap thwap thwap of her tail tip against the mattress. She feigns a soft noise that allows V to catch her bottom lip between her teeth, adjusting herself to gain some leverage over top of her as J’s quivering fingers desperately attempt to find a comfortable spot to rest. 

Where does she put her hands? Does she…move? Should she close her eyes? 

V pulls back almost too soon for J’s liking, eyes half-lidded. 

“You’re shaking.” 

Sh shudders, still dazed as her vocalizer emits a low hum, struggling to find the right words. 

"I...I don't know what to do," J admits. 

"Just relax," Uzi soothes, sinking into her side until J can feel the reassuring thrum of her core. "We've got you."

A shiver wracks her form as V leans in again, capturing J's parted lips once more.

This time there's no hesitation as J arches into the heated press of their bodies, a low keen vibrating up from her voice-box. Her hands finally find purchase on V's shoulders as she clings to the disassembler, mimicking the slide of her tongue with eager inexperience. She moans gutturally at the strange, heady taste - sharp and smoky, with an underlying earthy mull of gasoline and machine oil clinging to her mouth. 

Uzi's fingers trail feather-light paths down her neck, her chest, mapping every dip and curve with maddening leisure. J squirms, gasping into V's mouth as deft hands tease along the joints of her thighs.

“Mmph–” She whimpers out as V’s tongue coaxes her mouth open, ghosting across soft silicone in a request to press further. It’s…longer. Then she expected. N-not that she didn’t know, she had the exact same model, it was just…different being on the receiving end…

Inhibitions falling away, her hesitancy is replaced by a burning need that spreads through her entire being. 

With each passing moment, J's mind becomes consumed with a single thought –more. More lips on hers, more caresses, more of anything . And as if sensing her thoughts, V pulls back, leaving J gasping for air.

Confusedly, with a half lidded gaze, J blinks hazily as V withdraws, leaving her flushed and panting. Confusion wars with disappointment at the sudden lack of contact. But then a smaller hand cups her faceplate, turning her visor to meet Uzi's roguish smirk.

"My turn?" the drone purrs impishly.

A jolt of excitement courses through J's circuits as Uzi leans closer, her heated breath ghosting over her plating. 

Her mouth hangs open, chassis shivering as hands slide down her body, pausing just above her hip as their eyes lock. 

Without a moment’s hesitation, the scant distance between them is immediately crossed to crash her lips against J's. Where V was tender exploration, Uzi is fiery confidence - her motions bold and unapologetic as she angles J's head to deepen the liplock.

The smaller drone's mouth carries an almost organic sweetness. There are still faint hints of gasoline and oil lingering beneath, but overlaid with rich, sugary notes. 

With a desperate noise, J surrenders to the petite worker as she kisses her with the same fiery surety she exhibits in all things, trembling arms winding around her compact frame and  clinging with desperate abandon as she lets out a broken whimper. J can feel the smirk against her tingling lips as clever fingertips dance across her chest just shy of where she so desperately craves them.

“H-Hah.." J pants breathlessly between heated kisses, hazy with overstimulation. Her thighs shift restlessly underneath her, parting slightly in a subconscious effort to invite her closer. Uzi breaks away, only to dip back in to trail a blazing path of openmouthed kisses down the line of her jaw, pausing to worry at the juncture of neck and shoulder with blunt teeth. The jolting sting makes J hiss, her hands twisting fistfuls of fabric along the worker’s back. 

Her bold gestures have left her entirely disheveled – her blazer hanging open, tie loosened around her neck and her shirt rumpled, hastily unbuttoned to expose tantalizing glimpses of her bared core. She didn’t even realize how Uzi managed to do that so seamlessly. 

Then again, she barely notices N edging closer until Uzi separates from her once more, sheepishly tucking a strand of purple hair out of her face and wiping away a sweat nodule that’s appeared on her brow with a soft pant. She follows her gaze to where he kneels, watching their display with rapt attention and parted lips. 

A fresh surge of arousal floods her chest as their eyes meet, N’s optics blown wide with a mixture of shyness and an unmistakable hunger as J reaches out with a shaky finger to beckon him closer without a second thought. 

For a split second, he freezes up, and just like that, the warmth in J’s gut quickly dissipates, twisting into a shameful sting. 

Her bold overture punctures the heated moment like a pinprick to a balloon–Of course her eager invitational gesture would give the poor guy pause - years of torment and disdain at her hands didn't exactly foster an environment for intimacy.

J’s arm falls limply back to the mattress as she averts her gaze.

“Sorry,” She mutters.

“O-Oh, No, no, it’s okay.” N begins, waving nervously. "I, ah...I didn't want to assume you'd want me involved," he admits softly. "Or that you...um…swung that way…"

His hand enters her field of vision, offered in a silent invitation. When she looks up, he seems…apprehensive…but determined, a golden blush dusting his visor despite the firm set of his jaw. 

She can't help but roll her eyes at the dorky phrasing, but she bites back the acrid retort threatening to spill from her lips. Instead, after a moment's hesitation, she reaches out to accept N's proffered hand, giving it a light squeeze.

The touch of V's hand against her back is a tender encouragement that urges her forward, and J glances over her shoulder, jolting lightly as she’s met with a lazy smile. 

Taking a fortifying breath, J turns back to N. He mirrors V's gesture, cupping her faceplate in both palms with infinite care as he leans in to capture her lips chastely, and J stills. 

Kissing a boy...kissing him feels a little surreal, something she could never have fathomed allowing–let alone wanting herself–And yet, here she is - melting into his reverent caresses with a soft sigh against his mouth.

Where Uzi's kisses carried a fiery, organic zest, N's is deep and musky - like V, with strong undertones of crude oil and iron. 

A tremulous moan spills from her as V's hands ghost down her back, deftly stripping off her blazer until it pools around her wrists.

N pulls back with a soft noise - lips glistening as J gazes up at him through a haze of desire, visor flushed and vents cycling rapidly to dispel her mounting heat. 

It doesn’t take her long in the awkward silence that follows to notice the state of her undress compared to her colleagues. Uzi and V are delightfully rumpled, yes, but J is the only one left stripped down to her bare essentials - chest plating and soft, black abdomen exposed in a way that suddenly has self-consciousness resurfacing with a vengeance.

She can't stifle the sound that escapes her at the realization, fingers reflexively tugging the disheveled remnants of her top closed in a meager attempt at preserving her modesty. N's brow furrows in confusion at the noise, clearly concerned by her change in demeanor. 

It clicks like a lightbulb. "Oh! Oh gosh...Sorry" He stammers, realization dawning across his features as he follows her gaze. "Here, l-let me..."

Without another word, N grips the hem of his worn shirt - a faded, oversized thing emblazoned with an obscure band logo that only Uzi would recognize, and swiftly pulls it off, struggling slightly with the neck around his head before baring his chassis to the cool air. 

Though their base structuring is nearly identical, small differences jump out at her - a slightly broader shoulder span here, a marginally thicker midsection there–the soft mark of a scar, hexagonal, just off center underneath his core…

"Better?" He murmurs thickly, scooting closer until the scorching line of his body presses flush against hers once more.

Bolstered by the considerate undressing, J wastes no time in leaning back in to recapture his lips, angling N's head with one hand fisted in his silken hair as she coaxes his mouth open with insistent sweeps of her tongue. He yields so sweetly to her newfound confidence, shuddering, then instantly going pliant as he welcomes her silicone appendage with breathy whimpers. 

Then V's hands are on her again- one pressing against her head to angle their kiss deeper, the other trailing torturously down her arched spine. J shudders violently when fingers find the base of her tail, giving it an experimental tug, a molten purr of approval rumbling against the back of her neck. 

"Good girl…" V rasps, dark and velvety. 

"Oooh, look at you guys..." Uzi’s murmur cuts through the haze, gazing at them with open want as she lazily palms her core, biting her lip as she twists her thighs together. "Robo-God this is so much hotter than my fanfictions."

Her frame thrums with lingering, buzzing pleasure as N’s kisses make their way down her jaw toward the sloping planes of her abdomen, and J flings her arm over her visor, chest heaving with ragged pants as she arches shamelessly into him. 

Uzi slinks over with a wicked grin, settling herself down on J’s other side as V shifts behind her, guiding her down into a reclined position against the pillows with the disassembler's solid weight pressing her into the mattress. N pauses his descent just above her parted thighs, lips hovering a hairsbreadth from the smooth space of their apex. 

"Can I...?" His tone is deliciously, uncharacteristically gravelly. 

“P-Please…" She whines loudly in assent, hips canting upwards in a desperate bid to encourage him closer, her tail wrapping around Uzi’s frame.

 “This is…a very…hhah…high priority asset…”

As soon as the jargon leaves her vocalizer, a vivid yellow flush blooms across J's visor. Uzi barks out a laugh.

"Did you really just say that?" The smaller drone chuckles, not even trying to mask her amusement. "Robo-God You're such a dork, J."

Her fingers trail up the length of her tail until she's gripping the base of the thick canister, giving it an experimental pump. J jolts with a garbled cry as a viscous bead of bubbling nanite acid dribbles from the upturned stinger.

"But I like that in an employee," She continues with a lascivious grin, shifting to dangle the potent appendage over the edge of the bed. "Shows...initiative. A real go-getter , always trying to maximize shareholder satisfactiooooooh shit that’s a lot–” 

Uzi jolts, more caustic fluid involuntarily drooling into the palm of her hand as J whimpers, her frame trembling as she squirms. 

"Ack–Easy there, corpo…" She hisses lightly, fingers twitching as she winces. “Don’t wanna have to file an incident report on you.” 

Before J can protest the jibe, a hand is thrust past parted lip plates - the worker using her alkaline saliva to neutralize the corrosive substance coating her palm. J moans around the digits, tongue swirling shamelessly to thoroughly clean up the mess.

The acid spill isn't even a concern - all J can focus on is the scorching warmth of N's breaths between her thighs, the pad of her tongue on Uzi’s fingers, V's solid weight pressing into her…

Withdrawing with a wet pop, Uzi locks eyes with her as she trails coated fingers down to circle the soft yellow light of her core as N finally acquiesces - burying his face between her legs without further preamble. 

His tongue laps hungry stripes upward,  coaxing a litany of pathetic mewls through J’s vocoder as she turns her head, the pit of her stomach tingling as she paws at V’s cheek tremblingly in a silent request for her to kiss her again. 

She whimpers as V eagerly obliges, wrapping one trembling hand around the back of her neck in a silent plea to just keep holding her, visor burning with tears of overwhelming bliss as they cascade down her screen display in glistening rivulets. She's never felt anything like this before. The ghosting caresses of her private indulgences pale in comparison to the reverent touches igniting a firestorm in her chest that makes her limp in their embrace, broken sobs spilling from her throat. 

Melting, melting, melting... 

Her face feels hot, her body feels hot, everything feels hot. 

N reaches up to splay possessive hands over the trembling planes of her thighs, fingers digging in just enough to sting as his partner forgoes the use of her own digits in favor of  leaning in to latch plush lips over the silicone casing of her core. 

J suddenly feels like she’s about to faint, and as V’s sinuous tongue delves past trembling lips to explore the wet heat within, she clutches at her shoulders, scrabbling frantically while tears leak freely down her visor.

“G-Gonna…hah…” She muffledly stutters out as all higher cognitive functions grind to a halt. “I-I’m…o-oh, oh, mmfph!--”

Words die on her tongue as her back bows in a harsh arc, pegs digging into the mattress as J's mouth falls open on static-laced whimpers, Seizing as an overwhelming tidal wave of pleasure obliterates all remaining coherence–Shorting out relays and sending frantic error messages cascading across her HUD. 

When she finally crests over the edge, her climax crashes through J like a rogue wave function - a full-system reboot and shutdown triggered by sheer, overwhelming stimulation. Overloaded circuits discharge sparking steam as her visor whites out. 

—

J groans as she blinks awake, staring upward as the ragged whir of overworked fans and the slow drip of rapidly cooling fluids slowly bring her back to some semblance of clarity. 

Spent tears cling to hooded, tired eyes, leaving iridescent tracks across the dimmed display. An occasional aftershock ripples through her frame with tiny, full-body tremors.

Awareness gradually returns in fragmented sensations - a soothing weight curled along her side, the ticklish brush of a tail trailing up her thigh, the warmth of an arm draped protectively over her abdomen. J glances down to find herself swathed in the shirt N had hastily discarded earlier, the soft fabric clinging to her sweat-glazed chassis.

She lulls her head weakly, catching a glimpse of silvery hair spilling over the pillow. 

V lies curled around her in repose - chest rising and falling in a slow, steady cadence. N's arm is the one anchoring her close, hand splayed possessively over her core while Uzi cuddles up against his back in a tangle of limbs.

A strange feeling blossoms in J's chest - something bittersweet, yet infinitely nurturing. Slowly, she reaches up to trace the curve of V’s cheek, stroking the silken strands away from her serene [SLEEP MODE] with trembling fingertips.

The synthetic cadence of their mingled breaths fills the tranquil silence - a soothing lullaby that draws J deeper into their rat-king of an embrace. Part of her catalogs each touch with meticulous precision - V's chest against her side, the ticklish sweep of N's fringe feathering across her jaw, Uzi's legs possessively draped over her calves.

Yet, her rational processes keep stumbling over the same dissonant thought - how did she end up here? What bizarre lapse in judgment led her to surrender herself so completely to these...colleagues? Former targets? Friends?

J fidgets slightly, shame prickling beneath her plating as the afterglow begins to fade. What will happen when they inevitably awaken? Her jaw clenches at the thought of scathing jokes, awkward avoidance, uncomfortable silence. 

Common sense dictates she should remove herself now before the mortification can fully set in. J makes a subtle effort to shift away, only to find herself effectively pinned by the solid weights draped across her chassis.

Her tired processors latch onto the easiest excuse she can think of - they're simply too heavy to dislodge without waking them. 

A tiny smirk quirks the corner of her mouth. Well, if that's the case, she may as well make the best of her captivity. 

Relaxing once more, J pillows her head against V's with a quiet sigh. N shifts closer in his sleep, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck with a contented mumble muffled against synthetic dermis. J stills, giving him a moment before allowing her fingers to ghost across his face, tracing the tiny scuff marks and pits dotting along the plating.

She glances up at the ceiling, its impossibly high threshold making the very top disappear into a blackness, and commits every detail to memory - the subtle shift in shadows, the play of amber light spilling from her visor flickers over disheveled sheets. 

Tomorrow, no doubt, the uncomfortable realities will come crashing back down around her. But for now...for this precious slice of peace...J refuses to deny herself the comfort of simply existing in the moment.

Tentatively, she closes her eyes, feeling the ghost of a pinkie wrapping around her finger.

Chapter Text

The once-soothing rhythm of her peers' breaths now serves as a gentle nudge back to alertness as J blinks away the remnants of her sleep mode. 

Groggily, she takes a moment to regain her barings, turning her head to take in the resting tableau of sleeping bodies surrounding her. V remains curled along her side, only the top of her head visible from where it rests against her chest plating as her shoulders rise and fall. 

N hasn't shifted much either, still nestled into the crook of J's neck with an arm slung protectively across her torso, tousled, silvery hair falling over his visor and framing his face in a…frustratingly photogenic manner. 

His girlfriend, in stark contrast to the both of them, is sprawled across the mess of sheets in a tangle of limbs, legs thrown over N's shins while one arm clutches a pillow to her abdomen, mouth agape and drooling against the side of the mattress. 

Panic flutters in her core. 

Right.

Right, That…that happened. 

With a trembling sigh, J carefully extricates herself from her cuddle-prison in a painstaking silence. N murmurs something unintelligible as she shifts him aside, fingers pressing minutely against her fading warmth. V's arm slips away just as easily, allowing J to shimmy free with ease. 

She sits up on the edge of the bed, rubbing at her eyes before glancing back at her resting colleagues for a lingering moment. 

They look…peaceful. 

J’s body feels strangely cold, for a machine constantly prone to overheat, feeling a pang of something indescribable that tugs at her borrowed shirt. Quietly, J pads across the room to collect her discarded blazer, fiddling nervously with the lapels before folding it over her arm, and starting for the door. Her finger hovers over the button as she casts one last glance over her shoulder. 

Making a pensive noise, she presses it, and soundlessly maneuvers out into the hallway where her own quarters wait from across the corridor, her body feeling like it's on autopilot. She doesn't stop moving until she's curled up in safely among the rafters there, tail looped around a solid beam to keep her suspended above the darkness beneath her. 

Time drips by in frustrating languor - the minutes stretching into hours as she pointedly avoids venturing below. J scowls at the floor below between bladed feathers, fingers clacking together restlessly. 

What was she thinking? This is going to be a public relations disaster. 

Engaging in non-platonic fraternization with colleagues? Temporary interpersonal satisfaction at the cost of long-term project goals? What purpose did that even serve? All J is taking away from this is that she has thoroughly disrupted whatever uneasy team dynamic she’d come to develop alongside these three idiots, all over the stupid notion that being doted on while she was called a good girl made her stupid thighs tremble. J sets her jaw, pursing her lips into a thin line as she swings idly back and forth.

This was pathetically unprofessional. Have some decorum. 

She deliberately ignores her alarm when it goes off, instead opting to anxiously stare at her door and await the telltale shufflings of life, which, oddly enough, doesn't come nearly as quick as J would like it to. 

Why aren't they leaving the room yet? Were they waiting for her? The prospect ties her wiring into knots.

Think, J. 

Nothing outrageously inappropriate about a consensual team-building exercise, right? Just think of it as an…experimental initiative. 

Yes, of course. 

Nothing more than something to promote cohesion and synchronicity. A fluke. Happenstance. Freak accident. 

Ugh. she could use one of those right now. If J were to step out of her door and spontaneously be crushed by a well placed falling piano, she’d die more dignified than having to face the consequences of her actions. 

Groaning, she rubs her hands down her visor. 

The rationalization sounds hollow and absurd even to her own inputs. No feasible way this ends without awkward follow-ups. Yet, the infuriating pang of... longing…yearning? Still echoes through her systems. 

Stop sulking.

Wasting time in leisurely retrospection is counter to development, and J didn’t score a 99.1% on her HR module for nothing–Though she fears what may come of the 00.9 percentile discrepancy. She kicks herself in hindsight for spark noting her way through the last slide of her course. 

Sighing reluctantly, J unfurls herself from the rafters, stretching her wings out before descending to the floor. Despite the omnipresent need to avoid facing them, she knows hiding indefinitely tends to have…suboptimal results, and at some point…

Well, J supposes at some point she’s gonna get hungry, at least. 

—

The expanse outside her door seems eerily vast and foreboding compared to other days, but regardless, J puts on her big girl face and slinks out. She’s about six paces out the door before she all but collides with V, who had chosen the same time to round the corner holding her usual mug of oil.  There's no immediate hint of the previous night's escapades in her demeanor - just a characteristic nonchalance, bordered by a slight undertone of bemusement at the sudden unexpectedness of the encounter. 

J hesitates, unsure how to initiate any conversation that doesn't immediately spiral into... that... territory.

Before she can open her mouth, V gets the memo. 

"Morning," She grunts sleepily. 

Stiffening slightly, J finds herself scrambling for a response that doesn't sound hopelessly dweebish. 

"Yeah, uhm...." She insists, perhaps a bit too forcefully. "Good morning.”

There’s a brief pause. 

“What’s got you all in a tizzy?” V begins after finishing a particularly loud slurp of oil, the noise echoing hollowly against her cup. ”You look like you’re late for something.”

J clears her throat. “Um…” 

Why are you acting so stupid?

Stop acting stupid. 

“I’m….” 

Think, idiot! 

“I’m work. I—I mean, I’m late for work.”

If there’s anything J’s found out about herself in these last few months, it’s that she was a terrible liar. 

V raises an eyebrow, amusement tugging at her tone.

"On a Saturday?” 

All she can manage is a weak shrug, hoping to play it off as nonchalance. “We’re understaffed. Four of our technicians called out today.” 

“Huh.” V doesn't seem convinced–though J supposed her cadence did tend to be a bit of an enigma.  

“Well, good luck with that,” She continues before taking another long sip from her mug, effectively interrupting J before she could think about opening her mouth again. “I’m going back to bed.”

On any other day J’s ordinary reaction would be to fire back a retort, but she can’t seem to find the words in her vocoder.

Nodding curtly, V makes a motion to shift past her before pausing to look back over to her with a lazily arched brow. 

“Nice shirt, by the way.”

J’s initial reaction is confusion as she looks down. “What shir–”

Oh. 

Her eyes hollow, flushing an embarrassingly bright yellow as she crosses her arms over her breast, now acutely, painfully aware of the borrowed clothes she's still wearing - N's…Uzi’s?, which still hangs loose and rumpled around her frame.

“I-I. Uh.” She mumbles in response, unable to meet the other’s gaze. V gives her a small smirk as she presses the button leading back into N’s room.

"Looks good on you."

With that, the door slides shut, leaving J standing in the hallway absolutely dumbfounded.

…

What the hell was that?! 

Without another thought, J pivots on a peg and beelines back to her room, slamming the door behind her and leaning against it and shuddering. 

J hyperventilates as her mind races, the previous night flashing vividly behind her eyes. She thinks about the way V would slip back into bed with the two of them right now, nuzzling into their embrace so casually, without any of the tremors that wracked J’s own body from the spot she had left vacant, feeling the warm brush of—

AUGH! Stop it!!!  

J feels like a loser. 

She is NOT a loser. 

Quickly, she removes the top and flings it across the room, grabbing her regular uniform and pulling it on, now feeling a desperate need to regain some semblance of professionalism. 

Then, with metronomic, rhythmic steps, J begins to pace. 

She needs some fresh air. Right now. 

–

Each step kicks up a small cloud of snow, the crunching sound melding with the howling wind as J continues her meticulous habit of walking back and forth like an under-stimulated caged zoo animal until she can get her mind back in working order.

She tries to focus on the biting cold, hoping it will anchor her scattered thoughts, but the memories refuse to fade.

It's so infuriatingly distracting.

Swallowing hard, the bitter taste of desperation blooms rife on her tongue. Why had she allowed herself to be so…obsequious? 

J was the leader. She was supposed to be in control. 

Circuits flare, drawing heat to the surface as her embarrassment morphs into something almost sinful.

Why did it feel so good to relinquish that?

Each touch, every caress, every kiss plays back as if on endless repeat inside her head, like a perverse film strip stubbornly etched into her processors. V’s breath hot against her lips, N’s gentle, reverent mouth licking a stripe up her lower chassis, Uzi’s hand curling around the canister at the end of her cord, tugging and teasing until she keened, allowing herself to surrender to every molecule of her being to—

Ohhh, robo-god.

Her legs shudder, thighs squeezing together as phantom touches force a whimper from her mouth, and she stumbles backward against the nearest tree, nerves alight with unwanted, maddening feverishness.

The button-down she’s wearing suddenly feels stifling. J yanks at the collar, desperate to breathe.

She can’t be serious.

Right here?

A low growl rumbles in her throat and J barely suppresses the urge to scream in frustration. 

Swiftly, jerkily, her hand flies to the stubborn buttons of her coat, fingers fumbling as she wrestles with her own enforced propriety.

Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. Always such a mess.

Her attempts to dismiss the deluge of images only seem to draw them nearer, each recollection a tantalizing thorn lodged into her motherboard. In an act of defiance or pure desperation, she rips the stifling garment open, unaware or uncaring as she shucks it carelessly to her feet. 

J’s mind snarls cruelty at her with every pulse of her circuitry, every touch a mark of shame she dwells in bitterly. Yet, as her fingertips brush against her own icy casing, a taste of that forbidden warmth sneaks back in, heady and sweet. 

Her cauda lashes behind her.

Weak. Needy.

Caught between revulsion and want, J bears herself open to the wilderness, the sheets of sleet becoming mere witnesses to her cyclical whirlwind of self-deprecation and bottled longing. She loosens her posture, lungs heaving through each breath she forces herself to take. 

Seeking composure proves entirely elusive as trembling fingers rise up to the soft silicone paneling covering her core, hesitating as that damned tail of hers finds purchase in the form of her free wrist and coiling itself around her forearm, tightening its grip as her other hand ventures lower, exploring the gaps in her armor where she had been touched so intimately. 

This is beneath her. It’s beneath her and she loves it. 

She bites back a moan, her hand pressing a little harder now, the pressure building in a way that is both torturous and delectable. 

J hates herself for the way her hips grind forward, hull shaking with the effort to stay upright as knees buckle underneath her. 

The traitorous appendage behind her writhes and constricts against stark white and hazard stripes, acid dripping against the ground as the J bites back a keen, fingers dipping lower to explore the segmented plating between her legs.

As the pressure builds, her cable squeezes rhythmically, sparks of pleasure crackling across her neural network as her mouth falls open in a gentle pant. 

Look at you, rutting against a tree like a feral animal. Disgusting. 

Her whole body tenses, backstruts arching as the coil reaches its peak. J’s face contorts with a whimper, digits stilling as her wiring burns with blissful overstimulation, and her body seizes as a wave of bliss crashes over her. 

“A—Ah-!” 

Through sporadic trembles, the tension melts from J’s body, chassis scraping alongside the pine’s exterior as she sinks down into the snow, letting out a winded huff.

She stares as her exhales disappear into the hazy air, blinking in a daze as she recovers her composure. Her attention falls to the trail of caustic fluid dripping down her arm from her still-twitching tail.

Ugh! Get it together!

...Just...get it together.

Eyes falling shut, J forces herself to steady her racing pulse. 

With a fumbling motion, she cracks her mouth open and extends her tongue to meticulously clean the lingering trails of acid from her exterior. 

The corrosive fluid sizzles and dissipates against the neutralizing saliva as snowflakes drift down to settle upon her disheveled state.

Just...breathe. 

Digits tightening reflexively, J takes a long, steadying drag of the crisp winter air. 

You’re okay. 

-

Hissing open with a pneumatic whir, the door to the living space opens, and J steps through, pausing briefly to brush away a few stray flakes clinging to her blazer. 

The kitchen is bathed in a warm, artificial glow, metal surfaces gleaming as she makes her way over to the small dining table tucked into the corner, rapping her knuckles against its exterior as she passes. Her hand ghosts over a neat stack of reports that sits at one end, and she smooths her fingers along the crisp edges before claiming the chair across from them, retrieving a slender pair of reading glasses and a pen from her breast pocket and rolling back her shoulders. 

J adjusts the frames until they're balanced perfectly on the bridge of her faceplate, blinking once, then twice, as she allows her optics to adjust. 

The first few notations are swift, precise strokes in the margins as she loses herself in the familiar cadence of perusing her data. A faint smile threatens to tug at the corners of her mouth - this, at least, is a comforting routine. 

"Since when did you need readers?”

A teasing lilt cuts through the quiet. 

V’s slender form leaning against the kitchen doorway, arms crossed. There's a spark of amusement in her gaze as it rakes over her. J's pen stills, hovering just above the page as a flush of heat prickles across her cheeks.

"T-they help me focus."

The lie comes well enough, though J can't quite meet her eyes as she offers a dismissive sniff and turns her attention back to the numbers. 

"You know how it is. Proper tools for proper documentation." She continues, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth for the barest moment before risking a sidelong peek back towards the doorway. Her appreciation for keeping up the aesthetic seeming much more…embarrassing than she remembers. 

"That's all."

The silence that follows is thick. 

“…I see.” V replies, pegs clacking against the floor as she glides over to the chair on the other side, reclining into the backrest and kicking her feet up. 

…Pun intended, J guesses sheepishly.

“In any case, you’re off earlier than usual.” 

It's maddening, really, how composed she manages to look.

J's fingers toy mindlessly, rolling the apparatus she's holding between her palms. "I finished quicker than I expected to," she lies, refusing to meet V's eyes as the words tumble out. "Figured I'd get a head start on the inventory forms for next week."

Reaching up, J adjusts her specs once more as the other leans to the side. Heat blooms as her optics drift, tracking the curve of V’s chassis, the elegant line of her neck, the way her coat hangs open just enough to offer the barest glimpse of–

She’s…definitely…more attractive than she remembers her to be.

The thought comes unbidden, and J feels her blush deepen as she hastily buries her face in the paperwork with renewed determination, pen scratching furiously against the page.

Don't. Be. Weird. 

J swallows thickly. 

"You...you look nice today."

The words tumble out before she can stop them, bumbling and stilted. J doesn't dare look up, shoulders tensing as if bracing for some scathing remark in return.

V arches an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

When J risks a glance upward, her expression unreadable behind that placid facade. Panic seizes in J's core - was that too much? 

Of course it was too much. Of course! 

"I just meant-" she sputters, words tripping over themselves in her haste to recover. "Y-You look...um, well-kept. Professional."

Professionalism. Yes, that's a safe avenue.

"It's a good look," J manages at last, fingers absently smoothing over the lapels of her jacket. "For you, I mean."

Humming contemplatively, V leans back in her chair as she sweeps over J in a shameless once-over.

"And what exactly is so... professional about what you see me wearing every day?" she purrs amusedly.

Promptly, J clams up, mouth opening and closing wordlessly. She fixes her stare resolutely on the table, curling inward.

Her fingers tremble as she reaches up to remove her glasses, folding the frames and setting them aside.

"I- Well, you just-" She stammers, trailing off with a helpless gesture. Humiliation coils tightly in her chest, and her expression is almost pleading as she looks back up to search V's face for any inkling of aversion.

"Okay, okay, sheesh.” she says, her voice light in a way that seems to lift some of the awkward tension. "Don’t strain yourself."

Reaching across the table, V pats J's forearm reassuringly, her thumb brushing over her sleeve in a way that sends a shiver up J's spine. "I know what you meant." 

With that, she pushes herself to her feet. 

"I'm gonna grab a drink. You want anything while I'm up?"

J blinks dazedly for a moment before shaking her head, swallowing hard. "N-No, I'm...I'm okay." 

"Suit yourself."

With a flick of her tail, V disappears out of the doorframe, and J lets out the shaky breath she’s been holding. She props her elbows up onto the table, scrunching her eyes as she splays out her fingers on top of her head. 

Staring listlessly at the stack of paperwork before her, J’s brow furrows, aimlessly carding through her hair in mild agitation. Orderly columns of numbers and text have blurred into an indecipherable mess. She blinks slowly, willing her processors to focus, but her mind persistently drifts elsewhere. 

Was she trying to... flirt with her?

No. Of course not. Don't be ridiculous.

J's servos whir in protest as she gives her head a brisk shake, banishing the thought. It mocks her.

Inappropriate.

Unprofessional.

Her tag gives an involuntary twitch, coiling loosely around her calf.

She needs to nip this in the bud before it has a chance to escalate into something more dangerous.

With a resolute huff, J slips her glasses back on, reaching for the stack of reports and rifling through them once more. She has a job to do - there's no sense in permitting such ridiculous, pointless...fancies.

And yet...

The slightest hint of a frown pulls at the corners of her mouth as she finds her productivity lagging in favor of scrutinizing the vacant kitchen entrance as the seconds tick by in tense silence.

…She was done for, wasn’t she?

Chapter Text

The days bleed together in a haze of spreadsheets and server logs, each one ushering in a fresh wave of creeping dread that rattles J to her very core.

She'd forgotten how agonizing this particular brand of torment could be.

It lurks at the edges of her consciousness, a persistent hum of longing and acute self-awareness that blossoms into vivid flashes of fantasy at the slightest provocation. Fingertips ghosting over datapads are suddenly phantom caresses trailing down the curve of her chassis; the flickering holograms swimming in her peripherals warp into tantalizing, fleeting glimpses of-

J cuts that train of thought off with a violent shake of her head, letting out a low groan as she presses the heels of her palms into her optics. Not this again. Not now.

Shamefully, her memories drift back to a simpler time - back when these insistent pangs and cravings had taken root at the Elliot estate. Back when every passing glance from flickers of green eyes and freckled cheeks had been enough to set her sensors alight and her frame atremble with want.

She'd been naive back then, so utterly unprepared for the slew of foreign sensations bombarding her neural net. At least this time around, she has some vague notion of the cyclic, inescapable hell that awaits her.

The end of each workday becomes a frantic race against time - hurry back to the apartment, make a beeline for her quarters, barricade herself inside before the deluge of unwanted fantasies threatens to compromise her composure entirely.

J sags against the door as it closes, frame quivering as she tries in vain to purge the lingering images from her cache. She drags her hands over her face, fingers drifting up to worry at her collar, loosening it just slightly in a futile effort to relieve some of the…uncomfortable warmth.

Get a hold of yourself.

The reprimand only lasts a moment, however, before her thoughts inevitably trail back towards honeyed words and taunting brushes of hands. unwitting imaginings flicker behind her eyes of being crowded against the wall, a strong lithe frame pinning J in place, wicked mouth trailing scorching paths across her throat, her collarbone, lavishing feverish kisses that make her thighs twist and her knees buckle—

Letting out a frustrated whine, J tugs on her pigtails, and with a grind of her teeth, she shakes her head violently as if to physically dislodge the intrusive thoughts. 

Glancing furtively at the ceiling and unfurling her wings, J makes herself airborne with a single, powerful bound. Her tail grasps around the metal crossbeams above with a dull clang as she hauls herself up into the rafters, grunting slightly in exertion.

Up here, she can be alone with herself.

Indulgent.

…Thoroughly delusional.

Huddled in the shadowy alcove, J lets her forehead thunk against the support beam with a hollow thud,  her gaze landing upon the crumpled shirt hanging haphazardly nearby amongst the scaffolding. It's Uzi's, technically. Of course it is - the other drone always did have a penchant for oversized, deliberately ill-fitting tops.

Her mouth goes dry as she reaches out with a trembling hand, slowly, carefully leaning forward until the worn cotton is within reach. It's utterly shameless, the way she hovers closer, fingers trailing over the worn cotton with something akin to reverence. 

It smells like them.

She tugs it in tight against her front, allowing herself to bury her faceplate into the fabric and inhales deeply, savoring the remnants of sandalwood and ozone and oil that linger between the fibers.

A choked whimper bubbles up from her vocoder. 

N's quiet strength and reassuring weight pinning her down, the rumbling purr of his approval echoing in her audials as he claimed his conquest between her thighs again and again.

Uzi's nimble, delightfully cruel fingers finding purchase along the paneling of her core, coaxing gasps and pleas from her useless mouth as she writhed between them.

And V...V, with her searing kisses and bruising grip, leaving J an utterly wrecked, trembling heap in her wake time and again until she lay whimpering for mercy. 

White-hot need pulses through her circuitry, leaving a scorching wake of guilt and self-loathing in its path. J curls in on herself, shirt clutched to her chest, pressing herself up against the sturdy beam as she surrenders herself to the deluge of entirely unwanted want .

How embarrassing .

She hates the way she misses them. All of them. The warmth, the overwhelming sensation of simply being held and cherished, wanted ...

Oh robo-god, she misses Tess-

No. No we are NOT doing this. 

Biting back a strangled sob, J whines as her hand drifts lower, fingers tracing patterns along the seam between her thighs. She squeezes her eyes shut, trembling with each measured caress ghosting along heated paneling.

Her breaths are scarcely more than a ragged whisper as digits tease lower still, probing the sensitive chassis there. J buries her olfactory sensors into that damning garment, shoulders shaking with exquisite torment as she rocks her hips into the friction. It’s humiliating.

Everything blurs together in an agonizing haze - bitter tears and whimpers mingling with molten pulses of sensation as she relentlessly chases her release.

Sleep, at least, will be a welcome reprieve from her treacherous thoughts.

For now.

-

J emerges from her quarters in the late morning, pigtails tousled and suit hanging askew off one shoulder. Dark rings linger beneath her optics, a telltale sign of her restless night, but the painful twisting sensation within her core has calmed to a dull ache for the moment.

Perhaps not ideal, but an improvement nonetheless over the spiral of desperate self-loathing she'd found herself trapped in.

Her stride falters slightly as she rounds the corner to the common area, gaze immediately settling on the scene before her - Uzi lounging comfortably on the sagging sofa cushions, head pillowed in V's lap as the other drone idles a hand through her vibrant tresses. 

J swallows thickly, fingers flexing anxiously against her palm. The intimacy of the display sends a pang through her chassis that she swiftly tries to smother. 

Just keep walking. 

With an imperceptible hitch of her intakes, J resumes her path across the threshold, not daring to so much as glance in their direction as she angles herself towards the small kitchenette tucked into the far wall.

For a beat, she debates bypassing it entirely and making her escape before she can risk cracking her meticulously rebuilt composure once more. But the lure of a fresh brew of oil proves too potent to resist - anything to inject some semblance of normalcy back into her currently haywire systems.

"Nice to see you too, Corpo," Uzi's voice drifts over from the living area, light and ever-so-slightly teasing in a way that makes J's shoulders tense instinctively. 

Gritting her teeth, J focuses perhaps a bit too intently on straightening the mugs in the cabinet before pulling one out, willing herself not to bristle outwardly at the jibe.

“I said Gooood Morning!”

The barest hint of bite lacing J’s tone when she speaks again. "Good morning, Uzi."

V makes a small noise of amusement from where she's sprawled, no doubt drinking in the spectacle, and J feels heat creeping up the back of her neck in a tell-tale flush.

”Sheesh," Uzi shoots back easily, the lightness in her cadence only serving to rile J further. "Looks like someone hung off the wrong side of the ceiling.”

J stiffens, fingers curling against the countertop as she forces herself to draw in a measured breath. Guilt—or something akin to it, coils low in her gut, an unwelcome companion she's grown dreadfully accustomed to in recent weeks. 

"What’s on the agenda today?" V pipes up once the brief lull in conversation allows it. "Anything thrilling in the world of quarterly projections?"

J blinks slowly, turning the mug over and over in her hands as she scrambles for an answer. "I...actually have the day off," she admits, still not daring to directly meet either of their gazes. "I was just planning on-"

"Wanna c'mere and veg out with us for a bit?"  Uzi suddenly perks up, craning her neck back to flash J an inviting grin. 

She gestures vaguely towards the flickering screen they'd been ignoring in favor of their idle conversation. "We’ve been ragging on how bad the writing is on this show is all morning. It’s so cheesy.” 

For the briefest flicker of a moment, J actually...considers it. She imagines herself sinking into the sagging couch cushions between them–maybe even letting herself edge a little closer than proprietary dictates until she can feel the grounding weight of their frames pressing against her from both sides...

Absolutely not.

"I was actually just...going to check up on how construction was going in the east wing," she lies smoothly, refusing to elaborate further as she tucks her free hand into her pocket. 

"Pfft, that’s your idea of a day off?” Uzi scoffs, rolling her eyes as she sinks back against the couch with an exaggerated huff. "Robo-God you’re lame.” 

V regards J for a prolonged moment, optics narrowing ever so slightly in vague suspicion. She opens her mouth as if to prod further, but seems to think better of it as she lets the matter drop with a simple shrug.

"Suit yourself," she allows at last. "But just so you know - the offer's open if you change your mind."

The dismissive gesture should be a relief, and yet it only compounds the hollow ache sitting like a lead weight in J's chassis. Her jaw works silently as she gives a terse nod of acknowledgment.

"...Noted."

Without another word, she pivots sharply on her heel and stalks towards the exit, heels clicking with purposeful strides against the tile. 

J barely stifles an irritated huff as her outstretched hand closes in on the access panel when the door suddenly hisses open. 

He blinks in mild surprise on the opposite side before immediately breaking into a warm smile, which J always somehow feels like is about to blind her where she stands. 

"Good morning, J!" N greets cheerfully.

Tensing instinctively, J’s free hand curls into a fist at her side. Of course this would happen. Because her day clearly couldn't get anymore excruciatingly awkward.

"Hello, N," she bites out stiffly, not quite meeting his eyes as she gestures vaguely for him to move aside. When he doesn't immediately oblige, she clears her throat pointedly. 

"Hm? Oh! Right." He gives a sheepish chuckle, shifting his weight to the right to clear a path - only for J to mirror his movement a split-second too late. They both pause, staring dumbly at one another.

A soft, bemused grumble slips past J's lips as heat prickles along her chassis. Shaking her head, she throws caution to the wind and simply charges forward in a bid to force her way through the narrow opening before N can sidestep again.

Predictably, it backfires spectacularly.  

Her shoulder slams squarely into N's sternum with enough force to jostle them both, sending them stumbling backwards until their frames are flush, chestplate to chestplate in the doorway. J sucks in a sharp inhale, painfully aware of the solid warmth now pressed up against her front as his hands instinctively settle on her waist to steady them both.

For one dizzying, interminable moment, they're simply frozen there, optics wide and locked together. J's core twinges sharply with utter humiliation and something altogether more...precarious that she swiftly wrings out like a wet towel.

J swallows hard, mortification prickling hotly across her faceplate as she averts her gaze. She squirms against the solid weight pinning her in place, a strangled noise catching in her vocalizer.

"M-Move," she bites out hoarsely, fingers curling against N's chestplate as she gives a futile shove. 

Scrambling to comply, N extricates himself from their tangled position with a flustered mumble of apologies. The second there's enough space between their frames, J barrels forward with enough force to nearly go careening into the opposite wall.

She catches herself just in time, straightening her blazer with a few curt tugs as she fights to regain her composure. Her intakes are still heaving with uneven, rattling vents when she finally chances a sidelong look back at him over her shoulder.

Just past his form, Uzi and V are now openly gawking at the spectacle from their place on the couch - the former with an impish grin already tugging at her lips, no doubt preparing to unload a barrage of merciless teasing.

Shame lances white-hot through J's chassis, and she bristles defensively. 

"What are you two staring at?" she snaps, voice dripping with indignation, as a furious blush creeps up the back of her neck and into her visor.

The movement only seems to spur Uzi on, who immediately dissolves into a fit of snickers, burying her face in V's shoulder in a futile attempt to muffle the sounds. V merely arches a bemused eyebrow, raking her stare slowly over the two of them. 

Suddenly, the confines of the hallway feel suffocating. 

"...Forget it," she grits out at last, dragging her eyes away to glare resolutely at a fixed point on the wall in front of her.  

With that, she straightens her spine and turns on her heel, willing her legs not to wobble so pathetically as she storms away with what little tattered shreds of dignity she has left.

N winces at the venom in her tone, offering a halfhearted, "Catch you later...?" in her wake, but J keeps her gaze stubbornly forward until the hallway curves out of sight. 

Only then does she allow her shoulders to slump, fingers raking through her frazzled hair as she takes a steadying inhale and wills her blush to fade. 

That's enough blows to her pride for one day.

-

The solitude of the construction site is a blessed reprieve.

J ghosts across the empty space with purposeful strides, footfalls echoing against the cold, bare concrete. Orange industrial lights cast deep shadows along the half-finished framework looming overhead, skeletal beams crisscrossing into an almost dizzying latticework against the artificial glow.

A twinge of satisfaction settles low in her chassis as she surveys the fruits of her labor up close. Base plating has been neatly laid in concentric sections across the flooring, panels interlocked with utmost precision. Various support columns and scaffoldings protrude upwards in staggered rows towards the ceiling, giving the empty space a hollow, cavernous feel in its unfinished state.

It's nowhere near move-in ready, of course - the wiring and ventilation systems still need to be threaded throughout the complex, not to mention the exterior plating. But for a mere skeleton of a construction site, she has to admit the progress exceeds all initial expectations.

Were she a lesser drone, perhaps J might have even allowed herself a modicum of pride in that fact.

As it stands, however, there's still no shortage of things to nitpick. Her palm skims idly along the topmost column as she circles the perimeter, mentally cataloguing each minute defect and compiling them into an ever-growing checklist. By the time she completes her first full rotation, her HUD is already filled to bursting with new task notifications and bullet points.

It should be maddening, really - any sane person would likely find the entire endeavor utterly soul-crushing. But for J, the tedium is...cathartic in a way.

"Evaluation looks promising," a familiar voice pipes up from behind, and J very nearly leaps clear out of her chassis.

Being caught off guard so frequently as of late has proven to be…frustrating. 

She whips around, fingers splayed defensively until recognition flickers across her features.

“...Jillian."

Her assistant manager. 

The other Drone bobs her head in greeting, green curls bouncing with the motion as she trots over to join J near the concrete barrier. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," 

Jill tucks a loose strand of hair out of her face, offering J a small, apologetic smile. "Just wasn't expecting anyone else to be on site today."

"Mm. I was just doing a once-over before the crew comes back tomorrow. It’s like herding cats trying to keep them on schedule.” J grumbles back, her tail flicking behind her in mild discomfort. “And I just…needed to get out of the house.”

"Fair enough," She shrugs back before turning her attention to the half-finished jobsite looming above them. For a few moments, the only sounds are the whisper of wind through the scaffolding and the faint crunch of rubble underfoot.

Then, almost abruptly, she turns to her.

“You seem a little...distracted.” 

Imperceptibly, J halts at the observation, gaze snapping over to find her colleague watching her with an air of careful scrutiny. 

"Is everything alright?" she prods gently when J doesn't immediately respond. 

Ah. Here we go.

J scuffs the tip of her peg against a loose rock as she mulls over how to deflect the concern without inadvertently triggering a near infamous mother-henning tendency.

"I'm...fine," she hedges at last. “Just...running a few too many recursive processes than I'd like at the moment,”

Not a lie, per se. Just...a carefully omitted truth.

Jill regards her dubiously, clearly not sated by the vague explanation. Her brow furrows in a subtle frown as she seems to weigh her next words.

A beat of silence passes between them before Jillian pipes up again, more hesitantly this time.

"...Do you want to talk about it?"

Ah, there it is.

"I-" Immediately raising a hand, J’s mouth opens to reflexively shoot down the offer...only to falter at the last second.

Giving her head a minute shake, she averts her eyes almost bashfully. 

"It's...a personal matter," she tries again, tone strained

Her eyes find Jill's once more, studying her silently for a moment before pressing on, almost hesitant. Then, after chewing on her bottom lip much too long for her liking, J speaks up again. 

“…Hypothetically speaking…” She starts, words flying before she can even register them as she runs her finger along a dusty panel, observing it between her pads before flicking it away.

“What would you advise in a situation that involved potential...fractures in communication between coworkers?"

She resists the urge to squirm like a scolded child beneath that infuriatingly patient gaze.

"I'm not sure I follow," Jill prods after a lengthy pause, head tilting ever so slightly. "Are you having issues with one of the crew members specifically?"

"What? No! No, it's-" J sputters back, that familiar fluster prickling hotly at the back of her neck once more. She clears her throat, willing her voice not to waver so pitiably. "It's purely regarding…office… politics and the ethical preservation of working relationships between...between..."

"...Interpersonal entanglements?" Jill hazards carefully, eyebrows raising in faint surprise.

The implication alone is enough to send J reeling. She might as well have accused J of embezzling funds or dereliction of duty on the field. It’s entirely absurd.

"I-I never said anything about romance!" J sputters out at last, tone perhaps a bit too indignant to be entirely convincing. 

She trails off lamely, as panic seizes in her chest, quickly realizing that Jill herself did not in fact, say anything about romance, either.

Why did she have to open her stupid mouth in the first place?

"That's..." She swallows thickly, casting about for any possible conversational lifeline. "A valid inference, I suppose. But as I've mentioned, this is all purely-"

"Hypothetical," Jill cuts her off, nodding in understanding as she folds her hands neatly in front of her. "Of course."

Time passes tensely between them before J clears her throat. 

"In that situation..." she continues haltingly, blatantly ignoring the waver in her voice. "What would you suggest as an...appropriate course of action?"

She’s regarded for what feels like an eternity, and just as J is preparing to backpedal, Jill speaks up once more.

“Well - have you considered just...talking to them?"

Her head snaps up at that, eyes flaring wide with panic. "Wh- Absolutely not!"

Jill raises her hands in a placating gesture. “Hey, hey, just…from a theoretical standpoint, right?” 

J’s mouth is already open to protest before the words have even fully registered. Mercifully, Jill presses on before she can interrupt.

"I know that's probably not what you would want to hear," she allows with a sidelong look and a faint, knowing smile. "But open communication really does go a long way towards preserving workplace dynamics when feelings get...complicated."

She shrugs a shoulder in a casual motion. 

"If that's not an option though, I'd at least recommend trying to establish some...boundaries. Figurative lines you won't let yourself cross to keep things professional." Jill pauses, chewing thoughtfully on her bottom lip. "It's not a perfect solution by any means, but it might help things from getting out of control until you can get to a point where you feel comfortable addressing it."

Boundaries .

The concept is laughable, really. How does someone even begin to establish boundaries with people she’s so thoroughly, irrevocably crossed every conceivable line with?

J's jaw works silently as she wrestles down the gut-punch of warmth that sloshes through her lines with each errant recollection of physical memories. 

This is exactly why she can't allow herself to indulge. 

It's a sickness, a glaring system failure that leaves her cracked and gaping at her very core. And the mere thought of confronting any of them is enough to send panic lancing through her sensors.

Forcing herself to meet Jill's steady, patient gaze once more, J adjusts her tie stiffly.

"I'll...take that into consideration," she manages at last, toneless and devoid of any real conviction. 

Staring resolutely ahead, J waits with bated breath for more poking and prodding that never comes. Instead, Jill simply sighs, an obvious tell that she's ready to drop the matter entirely.

"If it helps," she begins slowly, tone casual in a way that makes J's shoulders tighten further. "I was actually planning on doing another walk around the west quad after this. If you're, uh...up for keeping me company?"

The suggestion catches her entirely off-guard. She risks a sidelong glance and finds Jill watching her steadily. 

Not a hint of slyness or amusement visible, just...simple consideration.

J swallows hard around the sudden lump that's bloomed in her throat. 

"I-" She stops herself as her voice emerges hoarse and reedy, pausing to clear her throat once more. "I can...accompany you for that, yes."

Her acceptance of the offer earns J a warm smile. 

"Sounds good," Jill chirps lightly, already beginning to turn away and head off down the path with the expectation that J will follow suit.

Which...J does. With only the barest hint of hesitation marring her strides as her footfalls carry her to Jill's side. 

With a mercifully silent tandem through the winding corridors of the outpost's interior, J keeps her stride brisk, chin held high as she fights the urge to shrink away from the soft murmurings and mechanical hums echoing off the metal grates underfoot.

Her optics track the casual movements of the workers meandering past - some alone, some huddled in small, amicable clusters as they navigate from one station to the next. 

J forgets sometimes that this place was meant to be little more than a mass graveyard not so long ago.

It’s been…easier, since she finally—albeit begrudgingly— accepted that abhorrently edgy user tag as her admin, but–as instinct usually goes–the occasional triggered motion sensor in her peripherals still sometimes has her swallowing down the urge to start salivating. 

The pitter-patter of tiny, uncoordinated footsteps heralds the arrival of a pair of two younger units - no fresher out of an untrained neural network body- darting out from a narrow alcove up ahead. Before J can linger too long on the thought, she catches a brief glimpse of wispy blonde curls and pale blue eyes streaking past her field of vision, quickly followed by a blur of vibrant red in hot pursuit.

A peal of delighted laughter rings off steel walls as another barrel rolls out only mere seconds behind, seeming utterly oblivious to J's presence. They weave and duck between her legs as easily as if she were little more than a potted plant.

Tensing instinctively, she angles herself out of one of their paths just in time for the smaller drone to dart between her strided calves, forcing J to stutter-step clumsily to avoid trampling her.

"Hey, hey! Watch it you little-"

She bites off the chastisement a split-second too late as his brother skids to a stop, eyes blown comically wide when he realizes he’s about to careen directly into the stern form now looming in his path. 

To his credit, he just barely manages to veer at the last moment, slamming shoulder-first into the wall with a dull thunk and an "Oof!"

It takes a monumental force of will, but J manages to stamp down a reactivity protocol as her tail twitches in agitated coils behind her, the heavy syringe swinging in tight arcs now too close for comfort. 

”Ahem!” She announces, sounding almost offended by the intrusion. The trio freezes up like startled deer caught in her shadow. 

They're scattering before she even speaks, the smallest shooting her a furtive look over his shoulder as they retreat down the adjacent corridor. J trails their movements for a beat too long, after which she promptly slaps a palm over her visor, squeezing where the bridge of her nose would be and drawing in a steadying sigh.  

“Kids.” Jill huffs with a soft shake of her head. “Got two at home. Real handfuls once they stop looking like footballs."

Managing a noncommittal hum in response, J’s gaze lingers on the now-deserted hallway for a moment too long. 

There's a strange, hollow ache that settles in her core at the simple observation - Stirring a feeling that she hasn't allowed herself to truly dwell on in...well, ever.

She'd never truly had that, The chance to be young and reckless and so profoundly unencumbered as those three seemed. The closest thing to an upbringing J can recall are hazy secondhand reminiscences culled from Tessa's own experiences - fragmented snapshots of being locked away in richly appointed rooms by parents who saw their daughter as little more than an inconvenience to be corrected.

J gives an imperceptible shudder at the recollections, shoving them away before they can fester too deeply. By design, she and the rest of the first generation worker drones had simply just...awoken into this world as fully-formed, stark, and sterile as the factories that manufactured them. Artificial constructs with directives hardwired into their neural nets to serve beings that thought of them as lower than themselves. 

There's a melancholy sort of vacancy to it, she supposes. But it's all she's ever known.

Still, the thought leaves a bitter aftertaste.

Did she mourn the lack of a traditional parental bond, or simply the innocence of childhood itself...?

She doesn't have an answer. Nor does she particularly want one, truth be told. Such maudlin contemplations only serve to dredge up unpleasantries–so she swiftly tucks them away as they finally reach their destination. 

The door ahead of her in the west bay of sector 4 stands out–newer, fresher–against the weathered walls of the outpost. J had personally overseen its construction, as she tended to do with new developmental projects as of late. 

It hisses open on cue, unveiling a vibrant swath of greenery that sends a curl of humid air wafting out to envelop them both. J takes an automatic step back, grimacing faintly at the invasion against her senses as Jill steps past unphased, taking strides down the slim walkways between rows of seeding beds.

Hydroponics–Plant life. 

Although it wasn't a complete terraforming, Cyn's defeat had led to the planet’s environment going through some significant changes, the battle altering various atmospheric compounds enough to potentially sustain plant life in a few years. With some seeds left behind by the humans' previous residence, it was deemed worthwhile to get a head start on cultivating what agriculture they could–even if there wasn’t much need for it. 

"This has been on the docket for upgrades, correct?" J remarks as they come to a halt.

Jill nods easily in confirmation, seemingly unfazed by J's prolonged lapse in conversation as she motions for her to precede her inside with a sweep of her arm.

"We’re looking to expand the grow-ops next quarter," she offers brightly over her shoulder. "Get some more of those areca palms sprouting before the next supply run heads out."

Offering only a distracted hum in return, J warily follows her counterpart into the airy expanse of vegetation. Her optics trail across rows and rows of neatly cultivated shoots and flowering buds while her audials track the subtle trickle of water along the irrigation trenches.

Half a step behind her assistant manager, they meander down the narrow paths, J’s gaze sweeping across every nook and cranny of the humid enclosure with a critical eye. Rows of meticulously tended sprouts and budding blooms stretch out in every direction, punctuated by the occasional towering palm frond jutting up at intervals.

"Trey says they encountered some issues with one of the drainage pumps on the far end, there." Jill remarks conversationally as they amble along, pausing to crouch and inspect a crop of trailing ivy winding up a latticed trellis. "He was hoping to get a second look at the schematics before they start working on it again tomorrow."

Before J can even muster up an appropriately brusque reply, a grating, altogether too chipper voice suddenly pipes up from somewhere behind them.

"Well hello again!” 

Very nearly jumping clear out of her suit at the sound, J twists around so sharply that her ponytail whips over her shoulder with the force–and there, beaming at them with his signature, nauseating pep from the adjacent row of planters, is none other than N.

J instantly snaps her jaw shut with an audible click, straightening her spine as an indignant flush creeps up the back of her neck. She's just about to bite out some scathing remark about the importance of personal space when Jill beats her to the punch.

"Oh, hey, N!" the other drone responds easily, rising to her feet once more. J feels her optics bug slightly as the infuriatingly chipper greeting is reciprocated with an equally blinding, amicable smile to match.

Something in her core stutters with confusion, leering between the two of them as N responds with a jaunty wave, bouncing forward to meet them between the rows.

Is she missing something?

"Just doing some repotting today," he explains airily, gesturing towards the array of tiny, colorful pots and seedlings off to the side. Belatedly, J notices the trowel tucked into his coat belt and the smudges of fresh potting soil streaked into the creases of his chassis. “Can’t let these little guys get all stunted like the last batch.” 

J blinks owlishly between them, brows furrowing together in a barely restrained grimace as the pieces click into place.

“You two..." J starts, eyes narrowing in vague suspicion as she uncomfortably gestures a finger between the two of them.  "...Know each other?"

It comes out more accusatory than she intends, tinged with a note of petulance that she swiftly tries to wrangle back under control.

Clearly taken aback by J's bewilderment, Jill shares a brief look with N that J can't quite decipher. 

"Oh! Yes, we've met a few times now." She confirms with a small chuckle, turning back to flash J a reassuring smile. "N reached out when construction first started on this place - he seemed very excited to lend a hand wherever he could."

Her posture stiffens slightly, her gaze snapping back over to watch N with renewed scrutiny. He merely offers a bashful shrug in return, bouncing up onto the balls of his feet with entirely too much energy for her liking.

"His experiences with live plants is invaluable, since most of us drones have only had access to stored data." Jill brushes off a smattering of dirt from N’s forearm in a casual, friendly gesture. “He’s been an excellent help around here.”

Core lurching in a way that feels alarmingly, abhorrently kin to jealousy, she bites down viciously on her tongue to keep her lips from curling back into a scowl.

Of course he’s been. Of course they get along famously, all saccharine and sunshine and goddamned...gardening tips.

"We're aiming for at least partial atmospheric coverage and senescence within the plant population in the next few cycles," Jill continues conversationally. “Hopefully with the other outposts’ help we’ll be able to cut that time in half before we’re fourty!"

She punctuates the statement with a warm smile tossed back over her shoulder, who brightens visibly at the implication. J feels her jaw tighten, fingers clenching imperceptibly at her sides.

"That’d be nice. I do miss the grass." N sighs back wistfully, glancing over the verdant foliage with undisguised yearning. Then he shoots J a sidelong glance, beaming as he gives her a playful nudge. “And hey! If Uzi manages to finish working out the kinks in our horrible weird trauma programming- stuff, maybe we’ll get to see it someday too!” 

Robo-God, that was the stupidest thing she’s heard all day. She hated that dumb grin on his face so much right now she could just—

A part of her - the base, animalistic portion that still carries the echoes of their shared indiscretions - has the nearly overwhelming urge to yank him flush against her chassis right now and wipe that smile right off his face, biting claim to the column of his throat, mark him, stake her territory until he's trembling and boneless beneath her in the way he'd done to her only nights before. 

J clenches her fists until her knuckles strain, swallowing down a ragged ventilation as the compulsion is summarily squashed by the ever-present cold dread of facing the chassis-deep shame and self-recrimination that relentlessly reassert themselves no matter how deeply she tries to bury them. 

“Ah, I do not know how to respond to that!” Jill lilts awkwardly.

Working her jaw, J also finds herself quite unsure how to proceed. Before she has a chance to formulate a retort, however, Jill smoothly diverts the conversation with a clap of her hands.

"Anyway!" She chirps, pulling a small notepad out of her pocket. "I didn’t plan on staying too long, just needed to see what I needed to order for inventory—But you two feel free to hang out here as long as you'd like." 

Jill shoots N an impish grin. "Just try not to overwater my babies while I'm gone, hmm?"

N immediately flushes, uttering a shy laugh as he rubs at the back of his neck. "I'll do my best," he assures with a bashful duck of his head.

Watching in stony silence, An undercurrent of envy slithers through J's gut as she observes the casual back-and-forth between her coworker and… friend? She guesses?— the easy rapport carrying no hint of the tension currently stringing J's processes taut.

She barely registers Jill offering her a polite nod of farewell before disappearing back through the main entrance, leaving the two of them alone amidst the lush greenery.

The quiet that follows is thick and stifling in a way that has J shifting her weight between her feet–and as the door seals shut behind the fleeting worker, N lets out a whistle, rubbing his wrists uncomfortably.

"Whew, talk about two ships passing in the night, huh?" He quips, wearing a hangdog grin. When she doesn't immediately respond, his smile falters slightly around the edges.

"Tough crowd," he mutters after a beat. Clearing his intake, he makes another attempt. "So! You, uh…” 

N trails off slightly, his cooling fans audibly whirring as he seems to be thinking of the right way to parse his next choice of words. “...Come here…often?” 

J's jaw tightens minutely at the prompt, refusing to be baited so easily. 

Of course she comes here often, you dolt. She built this place.

She lets the quietude  lapse once more, optics tracing the soft sway of the leafy vines trellising along the greenhouse walls.

“You never struck me much as a gardening type.” 

After she still refuses to budge, N lets out a small huff - more frustrated than annoyed. "Okay, look," he begins, taking a tentative step towards her. "I get that things are...weird between us right now. They're weird for me too, if I'm being totally honest."

Risking an indirect glance through one of her true eyes situated across the crown of her head, she finds him worrying his bottom lip, gaze trained on her with a plaintive sort of earnestness. "But I don't want this to…change things, you know?" He presses on, spreading his hands in an open, placating gesture. 

She keeps her eyes determinedly averted, mulling over a litany of rebuttals crossing her mind. 

Robo-god, of course he’d to be the one to just… corner her like this. Only he’d want to dredge up the reminders of how eagerly she surrendered, the way she trembled, the way hot spills of tears streaked her visor as they’d held her afterwards. 

She knew , at least now he was well intentioned. But still, an ugly part of her can only register the tone as if it was mocking. 

The recollections are there, vivid and uncaring of the twinge it leaves in her core - lingering echoes of vicious blows and scornful barbs directed at him over the years. All in the twisted service of a malignant intelligence that had commandeered her very autonomy, and before then, a selfish, deep seated jealousy of him having the favor of something–someone, she could never have. 

But mingling with the self-loathing is a hollow sort of wistfulness. J swallows hard against the lump forming in her throat. 

Slowly, N steps forward, and J raises a hand, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Don’t.”

He swallows, tail drooping minutely behind him. “Sorry, I’ll…drop it. I guess.” N bumbles out a strained laugh. “I’ve just, been trying to find a good chance to talk... At least for the sake of my own sanity, haha.” 

"We don't need to discuss it," she cuts him off brusquely, words clipped in a clear shut-down of the conversation. "What's done is done. Rehashing the details isn’t conducive to anybody."

Irritation flickers across his features as N lets out a soft huff, fingers raking back through his fringe. "Look, I get that this whole situation is...messy, a-and maybe I'm overstepping by trying to force things. But J, we can't just pretend like nothing happened. Not after..." 

N trails off as J backs up. “Hey, hey come on, don’t do this, we were making so much progress—“

“Progress?” She cuts him off, yanking her hand away as he reaches out for it. “What am I to you, some kind of… science experiment?” 

J watches his expression fall, a wounded look flickering across his features. "That's not what I meant at all," he says, tone placating yet tinged with hurt. "I just...I…we—care about you."

"I don't know what you want from me," she mumbles out at last, refusing to meet his gaze. Her voice wavers despite her best efforts to keep it steady. "That night...it was just a lapse, okay?”

His features twist into an unguarded wince as if her words had physically stung. J pretends not to see it. 

"I allowed myself to become compromised. I…indulged in...indecent appetites that don’t align with intended protocols." She draws herself up to her full height, squaring her shoulders as she levels him with a look of flinty resolve. "It won't happen again. And I think it's best if we maintain an appropriate level of professional distance going forward."

He stares back at her, his expression cycling through a myriad of emotions - hurt, confusion, frustration - before finally settling into a guarded mask of stoicism. He nods once, jaw clenched tight at the clinical dismissal.

"If that's what you want," he replies tonelessly after a heavy pause. "I won't push you on this anymore."

Reaching up, N drags a hand down his faceplate, letting out a weary exhale. When he meets her gaze again, there's a dull sort of resignation reflecting back at her from his optics.

"Just know that despite...whatever it is you're working through, you don't have to face it alone, okay?" His voice softens slightly, taking on an earnest quality. "I'm here for you, J. We all are. Whenever you're ready."

J's intake stalls momentarily at the sincerity in his tone, at the care and warmth radiating off him in waves despite her rebuffs. Her core clenches painfully as that treacherous ember of yearning inside her chest flares anew.

Robo-God, she doesn’t want anything more to crumple into his embrace in that moment and lose herself in the solidity of his arms, even if just for a fleeting reprieve.

Instead, she tamps down the impulse with an imperceptible shudder, forcing her spinal strut into a rigid line. 

"Thank you for understanding," J replies tepidly, unable to meet his gaze any longer.

N gives her one final, lingering look - searching her inscrutable expression for any hint of wavering. When he finds none forthcoming, he sighs. 

"Yeah...of course," he murmurs, already turning away. "I'll...see you around, J."

She watches mutely as he retreats, feet scuffing against the tile in a hollow cadence that seems to echo endlessly down the vacant corridor. Only once the hiss of the doorway has sealed him from view does J allow the flimsy veneer to crack, slumping back against the nearest support beam with a shuddering breath. 

Her chassis feels impossibly tight, components strained to their limits as an acute pang of loss lances through her spark. Just seeing the barest flicker of hurt in N's eyes as she pushed him away was almost enough to make her crumble right then and there. 

What was wrong with her? 

For a brief stint, J almost mourns the sick sense of satisfaction she used to get seeing the fear in his eyes when she descended on him. Now, it only brought a dull ache. 

Pressing her palms over her eyes, she draws in a ragged inhale as she fights for composure. This is for the best, she repeats like a mantra, shoving down the burgeoning swell of regret.

Maintaining distance is the only… rational path forward, and yet, something deep within her coding rebels against the notion.

She pictures herself curled up on the couch, Uzi's tiny form tucked up against her side as they watch some…obscenely bad human movie together. J's arm would be draped casually around her shoulders, fingers idly tracing patterns along the vibrant plates of her arm. Uzi nestles closer with a contented murmur, resting her head in the crook of J's neck as they trade warmth and simply...exist in each other's orbit.

The scene shifts, and suddenly J is seated on the lip of a skyliner, pegs dangling over the edge as she takes in the vast, blue-hued expanse of the icy wastelands. A soft weight settles against her back as V slips into place behind her, wrapping her powerful arms around J's midriff and resting her chin atop her head. Neither says a word...but nor do they need to. J simply leans into the solid comfort of V's embrace, watching the twin moons glide across the dusky horizon as the disassembler's engine rumbles a soothing cadence against her plating.

Then, she's soaring above the outpost's central hub, wings outstretched as N spirals and swoops through the open skies in a graceful aerial dance around her. Steady beats of gilded feathers buffet J with gusts of warm, ionized air that caresses her plating like ghosting fingertips. He would throw his head back and laugh, banking and diving, climbing ever higher into the dusk-tinged clouds, reveling in the thrill of being airborne. 

She feels her fingers splay out across her abdomen as she imagines them gathered around her, a tangle of limbs as Uzi snuggles against her front, nestling her faceplate against her bare chassis as V molds herself to J's backplate, raining languid kisses across her shoulders and nape. N tucks up alongside them both, ankles hooking together as his hand finds J's and laces their fingers with a tender squeeze as the rumbles of purrs mingle with the silence. 

"FfffrAGGH!!" She snarls out in equal parts need and frustration, head thumping painfully back against the beam.

This had to stop. Now.

With weary breath, J props herself up and drifts towards the door like a ghost, heavy footfalls echoing hollowly with each lethargic stride. There's still so much work to be done, so many directives requiring her focus in service of the outpost's development. She'll simply immerse herself in her duties with renewed vigor - channel her energies into something tangible to keep that creeping, itchy feeling at bay for now.

Somewhere in her mind, she knows it's a futile effort. That no amount of throwing herself into her workload will ever be enough to make her stop aching.

Deep within her gut, that stubborn warmth pulses steadily, refusing to be extinguished no matter how fervently she wishes it gone. A quiet mockery of her attempts to purge it through sheer force of will. 

Perhaps one day, she muses hollowly, she may possess the elusive strength required to embrace that spark rather than struggle against it.

That day, however, is not today.

Chapter Text

Once J is sealed away in the safety of her berth, she immediately drops into her most punishing meditation cycle. System by system, she forces herself offline - audials crackling to white noise, visor sputtering to black as she retreats into the cold, empty void of a hard reboot.

She finally feels herself relaxing when a loud, muted thrum of a baseline reverberates through the other side of the wall.

Of course with her luck–she’s learned at least–That when Uzi inevitably decided she was going to move in with them, she would occupy the empty supply room against the adjacent wall, converting it to a bedroom where she could stay so that she didn’t have to consistently share with N. For J, unfortunately, this meant that she’d gained a particularly loud neighbor, and no gracious landlord to submit a noise complaint to. 

Perfect. Just, perfect. What a wonderful end to her already miserable day. 

With a groan, J curls up on her mattress, stuffing a pillow over her audials. She scrunches it tight over the sides of her head as it persists, seeming to grow louder with each hum. 

"For the love of-" she hisses through clenched teeth, yanking the thin blanket over her head only to throw it off moments later when it does nothing to dampen the noise.

A particularly loud thump has her jolting upright, hands clenched into trembling fists at her sides. 

Just ignore it …..

One of J’s prized calligraphy pens - a sleek, finely crafted thing with a lacquered white finish - teeters dangerously close to the edge of the shelf it lays on with each thunderous pulse from the adjoining room. She watches it sway, silently begging it to hold its perch against the unrelenting onslaught of...of whatever unholy cacophony Uzi’s subjected her to this time.

As if in slow motion, the pen tips forward with a decisive wobble, clattering to the floor in a graceless heap and rolling to a stop against the far wall. J can only stare at it numbly for one horrified beat before something inside her circuitry simply...snaps.

It’s official - Uzi has completely lost the plot. J's engine revs in a burst of irritation as her higher protocols fully reactivate. If this little toaster is going to insist on carrying out her rampage, then fine! Two can play at that game.

Practically vibrating with indignation, J snatches up one of her heavier pillows and hurls it viciously towards the source of the offending racket. The cushion bounces harmlessly off the wall, leaving a scant scuff mark at most. 

Well, that did absolutely nothing aside from robbing her of a good pillow. 

"Shut up!!” She snarls out as she stumbles to her feet, wrestling herself out of her blankets. 

"Can't hear you!" A muffled voice sings out in response to her outburst.

J feels another, more distinct thud against her wall that she absolutely knows was not an accident, accompanied by a cackle that sends a hot shard  through her core.

Another thud of bass rattles her shelves. J pinches her bridge as she counts backwards from ten in an attempt to stay the violent urge to punch through the divider.

Gliding stiffly to the doorway, she practically wrenches it open, not even bothering with the button before storming down the corridor with murderous intent. 

Her fist impacts heavily against the entrance to Uzi’s room in rapid, brutal succession before she can even process the motion.

"Doorman, I will PERSONALLY ensure your next workplace incident report involves dismemberment if you don't turn that down RIGHT NOW!"  

The music only grows louder in response, now accompanied by the sound of jumping and what J can only assume is intentionally obnoxious singing. A broken fit of giggles from behind the threshold make J's fuel lines run ice cold before scorching hot.

”I am THIS CLOSE to filing a formal complaint about noise violations! See how funny you find THAT!"

“Why don’t you file a formal complaint on deez? ”

What in the world was she blathering about?? 

“Who—“

“Deez nuts!” Uzi lilts out before J can even finish her sentence. 

Entirely enraged and now wholly offended, J’s optics widen as she slams her fist on the access panel. When the door fully opens, she steps into what can only be described as a nightclub mixed with like some kind of post-apocalyptic convenience store that had just imploded on itself. 

Empty energy drink cans and snack wrappers litter every surface, bathed in an eye-searing purple glow from LED strips haphazardly strung around the ceiling, their harsh neon reflecting off tacky flame decals plastered across every available wall.

"What in the absolute hell happened here? This place is a biohazard!” 

J's tail lashes agitatedly behind her as she takes in the disaster zone. "And turn that down! You’re shaking the whole house!” 

"Make me, Mom .” Uzi taunts back infuriatingly, sprawled across her unmade bed with her boots still on. 

Internals flaring blindingly hot, J reels. "I will NOT be mocked by someone whose idea of interior design looks like a twelve-year-old's Myspace profile threw up!"

The music continues blasting at an ungodly volume from unseen speakers. J can barely hear herself think.

"Aww, what?” Purple slumps dramatically. “ I think it really brings out the whole 'grungy teen angst' vibe I was going for."

J feels her eye twitch. “How do you even LIVE like this?!"

"With style and zero corporate oversight, baby!" Uzi shoots a finger-gun in her direction with an insufferable grin.

"I...you..." J sputters, processor nearly shorting out. "This is COMPLETELY unacceptable conduct!"

In an absolutely nauseatingly lazy fashion, Uzi lifts her hand, clasping a sleek black remote in between her fingers. She presses what J assumes to be the volume button, with the way the surround sound increases incrementally, kicking one foot over the other and tucking her hands behind her bed. 

"You little..." J growls, feeling the rumble in her chest as her optics narrow to dangerous slits. 

Taking a composed breath, she closes her eyes and puffs out her chest, stiffening her posture. 

“You’re just trying to get a reaction out of me, and it’s not going to work.” 

"Think I already did." Uzi smirks, twirling the remote. "Y’know, your face does this funny thing when you're mad - like right now, actually. It’s kinda cute.”

Self-consciously, J touches her visor where she knows that annoying little glitch tends to manifest. Manufacturing error. She doesn’t remember a time when it hadn’t gone on the fritz when she got worked up. 

"My face does not do a 'thing'," she snaps, trying and failing to keep the note of insecurity from her tone. "And I am NOT cute. I am a highly efficient professional. ” 

"Suuure you are," She drawls, rolling onto her stomach and propping her chin in her hands. "A highly efficient professional who's standing in my room at 10 o’clock having a meltdown over some music." 

Bristling at the casual dismissal, she fights back an unwanted pang of envy at how effortlessly cool Uzi manages to look…even while being an absolute menace . Meanwhile, J knows she probably appears about as intimidating as a malfunctioning office printer.

"My meltdowns are perfectly reasonable responses to unreasonable provocations from insufferably edgy little—"

"Aww, you think I'm edgy?" Uzi cuts her off with a shit-eating grin. "That’s so sweet of you, J!” 

A strangled noise of pure frustration escapes J's vocalizer as she throws her hands up.

"You are absolutely impossible! I don't know how N puts up with you!"

"Pretty sure you know exactly how he 'puts up with me'.” Uzi waggles her eyebrows suggestively. “Want me to share some tips?” 

She visibly seethes as Uzi lifts the remote again, and without a second thought, J jerks forward, making a wild grab for the control as it’s quickly yanked out of reach. "Give me that!” 

"Never!" She cackles back, holding the remote high above her head while using her free hand to push against J’s faceplate. 

"I will END you!" J growls, batting away the offending hand and making another swipe that Uzi easily evades by rolling to the side.

"Oooh, scary!" Uzi mocks, now perched on the edge of her bed like some kind of demented gargoyle. "What're you gonna do - write me up for insubordination?"

"Don't tempt me! And get your filthy boots off the mattress!"

The springs creak ominously beneath her as she blows a raspberry in the disassembler’s direction, bouncing on the bed just to be extra infuriating. 

With an enraged shriek, J launches herself at her, sending them both tumbling onto the floor in a tangle of limbs and curses. They wrestle for control of the remote, rolling around amidst the scattered bits of food packaging beneath them.

"Ack—get off me!"

“Not until you hand it over, you insufferable little weasel! " 

Using her height advantage to pin Uzi down, she makes another grab for the device as she struggles to maintain her grip on the squirming pest beneath her.

An impulsive thought flashes through her mind as the little worker writhes, chest puffing indignantly underneath her loosely fitting sweater, gangly limbs scrambling for purchase under her weight…It’d be so easy to just—

"Oh my god, are you BLUSHING?" Uzi guffaws, somehow managing to wriggle an arm free. 

"I am NOT-" J starts to protest, only to be cut off by Uzi managing to jam her elbow into J's midsection, causing her to lose her balance with an undignified yelp. "Ow! BRAT! ” 

The music continues blasting at an outrageous volume, punctuating their scuffle with thunderous bass drops.

She snarls viciously as they grapple, her tail whipping through the air with aggressive fervor. The smaller drone beneath her lets out a feral growl of her own, bucking wildly to throw J off balance.

"Nng- stay DOWN you little-" 

Her words cut off in a startled gasp as Uzi displays a burst of strength, nearly managing to flip their positions. She has to throw her full weight forward to maintain the upper hand, chassis pressing flush against the worker's frame.

A low rumble vibrates through J's core at the contact, feeling the heat radiating off the smaller of the two. Components whir and buzz with exertion, faces are mere inches apart as they wrestle for dominance.

"Bite me!” Uzi pants out between clenched teeth, optics blazing with defiance as she strains against J's grip.

Bearing down harder, her body whines with the effort of keeping this…surprisingly strong little emo freak still. Her systems ping warnings about rising temperatures but she ignores them, too caught up in the power struggle to care. 

A concerning warmth pools in her lower chassis as she maintains her position, grip tightening around Uzi's wrists and pinning them above her head with a rough shove. 

"Enough!”  

Her voice is…rougher…than intended, tail coiling behind her as she looms over her… prey.

J's hold is tested with another forceful buck of Uzi’s hips, panting raggedly through her vocoder. “...S’that…all you…got?" she taunts breathlessly. 

Even J is surprised by the rolling bellow that rattles deep in her chest, hollow and croaking as it expels itself as a hot hiss, sounding akin to a very, very angry alligator. 

Metal creaks underneath her grip, cooling fans whirring at maximum speed as the warmth in J’s chassis climbs dangerously high. 

"Getting all primal on me, now huh?" Uzi pants out with that insufferable smirk still plastered across her face. "Those big bad disassembly protocols kicking in?"

"Shut. Up." J grinds out through clenched teeth, trying to ignore how their frames are grinding together with each movement. 

Something about this feels dangerous - predatory in a way that makes her gut twist with both warning and want. She can feel the thrum of the worker's internal systems vibrating against her plating, the sweet rush of oil lying just underneath…It makes her processors fuzzy.

Uzi lets out a tiny gasp, trembling ever so slightly underneath her. “Don’t make me take this one to HR, Corpo ...” 

J's core stirs with something old as her gaze is disrupted by a horizontal 'X' pattern streaking across her visor. Visual input readings rapidly redirect to her true eyes haloing the crown of her bangs, and suddenly, Uzi is nothing more than a rainbow of thermal imaging. 

Looming closer, J bares her fangs, the room running hot enough to make the air shimmer around them. Uzi’s eyes widen slightly, a note of genuine uncertainty creeping into her expression.

“J-?" She squeaks out, voice pitching higher with just a hint of fear.

The pneumatic hiss of the door sliding open cuts through the tension like a knife.

"Yo, did I leave my glasses in—“ V's casual query cuts off abruptly as she takes in the scene before her.

They both freeze, J’s visor clearing instantly as mortification crashes over her like a bucket of ice water. 

Utterly dumbfounded, the two meet V’s gaze, and  with the slowness of molasses, Uzi reaches out, remote still in hand, and clicks a button, stopping the music instantaneously. 

“…Here?” V finishes slowly, one eyebrow raised as she surveys their compromising position.

J scrambles off of her so quickly she nearly trips over her own feet, a high-pitched whine of horror escaping her vocoder as she backs away.

Oh robo-god, oh robo-god, ohrobogod—-

"I was just- We weren't- This isn't–" she sputters incoherently, hands wringing together as she struggles to form a coherent sentence. Her tail wraps tightly around her leg, a nervous tell she's never quite managed to suppress.

Uzi, meanwhile, props herself up on her elbows with infuriating casualness, acting as if she hadn't just been pinned moments ago. If she’s feigning something, she’s pulling it off excellently.

“H-uh? Oh. Nah, I haven't seen 'em," she replies, albeit somewhat shakily.

J's core flutters rapidly between embarrassment and panic as she edges towards the door. Every wire in her frame feels like it's about to short-circuit from the sheer humiliation.

"I-I need to go reorganize my...spreadsheets," she blurts out lamely before practically bolting from the room, clipping her shoulder on the doorframe in her haste to escape. 

—

Click. Click. Click. Clickclickclick. 

What the hell was she thinking?!?  

Stalking back and forth across her room, J fidgets with the agitation of something fierce, pen in hand as she snaps the ballpoint in and out of its sheath. 

This is FINE. Everything is FINE . She just... physically assaulted her neighbor over a noise complaint. Perfectly normal workplace dispute resolution!  

And then she…UGH! Since when did she let that little punk get under her plating like that?!

She stops abruptly, pressing her palms against her visor.

Just kill her now. File her under 'career-ending embarrassments' and be done with it.

J is never going to live this down. V will tell N, and N will tell everyone else, and then she'll have to transfer to another sector entirely. Maybe she can request reassignment to the hazardous waste disposal unit in Outpost 6. At least there she won't have to deal with... whatever THAT was.

And the way Uzi was looking at her...like she wanted her to...No. NO. We are NOT entertaining those thoughts. Absolutely not.  

Really? Because you seemed pretty eager a few minutes ago.

"SHUT UP!” J barks out loud, resuming her pacing as she gesticulates aggressively, tail remaining stiff in between her legs as she wallows in her humiliation. 

Great job, Serial Designation Idiot, Gold star for maintaining your ‘professional distance.’ 

She just had to go confront that irritating little…BLUH!!!! 

Groaning, her chassis squeals against the cool metal of the wall as she slides down to sit on the floor. She bangs the back of her head against the surface with a dull thunk. 

What a joke. 

—

J sprawls across the couch in an undignified heap, one leg dangling off the edge while her tail droops lifelessly to the floor. Her uniform is rumpled, tie loosened and hanging askew as an almost-empty bottle of antifreeze teeters precariously on her chest, rising and falling with each weary ventilation.

The TV casts a flickering blue glow across her sulking form as some melodramatic human K-drama plays at low volume. Scattered around her are bizarre combinations of snacks - copper shavings mixed with motor oil, some kind of crystalized battery acid chunks , and what appears to be an entire tub of industrial lubricant ice cream.

Staring listlessly at the screen, J watches as the two main leads have an impassioned argument in a rain-soaked street. The woman's mascara runs down her face. 

"마음이 아프다 지수야. 당신은 나를 너무 혼란스럽게 만듭니다!" [My heart aches, Ji-soo. You make me so confused!!]

"Mmph." She shoves another handful of metal fragments into her mouth, crunching loudly.

"당신을 미워하고 싶지만 그럴 수가 없어요..." [I want to hate you... but I can't…]

Preach it, Sun-hee.

Taking a long swig of antifreeze, she grimaces at the artificial sweetness.

The woman confronting her starts crying, saying something along the lines of how she can't keep pretending there's nothing between them. Her hand reaches up to cup the other actress’ face, swiping a tear from her cheek. 

Oh, just kiss already! Some of us are trying to wallow here!

Slumping, J’s form practically melts into a pathetic puddle of self-pity. The antifreeze burns pleasantly through her systems, making her processors fuzzy around the edges. 

Optics unfocused, the scene continues playing out on screen, but J's barely processing it while she marinates. She absently notes that she's starting to list sideways, but can't bring herself to care enough to correct her posture.

She’s backsliding and she knows it. But how could she not? 

With an embarrassing whir, her cooling fans kick on again as she replays the feeling of Uzi underneath her, the way V's knowing gaze had pierced right through her, how N's earnest concern had made her core flutter…

This isn't like her usual pining from afar. This is a raw, visceral need that makes her entire frame tremble.

J’s not supposed to be the object of desire. She's the lackey, the yes-man– yearning hopelessly, watching from the shadows as others find happiness. Not...not whatever this is.

Robo-God, she wants. She wants, and it terrifies her. 

A sidelong glance to the coffee table tells J that the ice cream container has tipped over, leaving a sticky puddle dripping onto the carpet.

She should clean that up. 

She should do a lot of things. 

Soft sounds of footsteps approaching barely registers through her antifreeze-induced haze. It's only when a shadow falls across her prone form that J's systems jolt with recognition.

“Little late for a TV marathon, isn't it?”

Her core lurches as V's familiar presence looms behind the couch. Even without looking, J can feel those piercing optics studying her disheveled state.

Not even bothering to lift her head, she’s far too exhausted to muster up something witty. Instead, she melts deeper into the cushions with a noncommittal grunt. 

"Mmngh."

The couch dips as V settles beside her, but J keeps her gaze fixed firmly on the TV screen. The proximity sends an unwanted flutter through her core that she desperately tries to squash, suddenly becoming acutely aware of how pathetic she must look right now.  

Shifting slightly, the antifreeze sloshes in her systems, unconsciously angling herself away from V's warmth while simultaneously aching to lean into it.

Something vulnerable claws at her chest, making her want to throw up or cry. She does neither. 

"If you're here to mock me just... get it over with." 

"Mock you?" The other disassembler’s tone remains neutral, almost gentle. "No, I think you're doing a pretty thorough job of that yourself.”

"What do you want, V?" She tries to inject venom into the words, but they come out more weary than anything else.

Shifting beside her V carefully reaches out to pluck the nearly-empty bottle from J's trembling fingers.

"Right now? I’d prefer you to stop sucking on a bottle and tell me what's actually going on."

"Nothing's goin’ on,'" J snaps, making a half-hearted grab for the confiscated bottle that V easily deflects. "I'm just...watching my shows. In peace. Alone."

"Uh huh." V's expression remains impassive as she sets the antifreeze well out of reach. Her chest clutches indignantly.   

"I don't..." she starts, then hiccups. "I don't need a babysitter . 'M perfectly capable of handling myself."

V settles back onto the couch, regarding J with that infuriatingly calm stare. "Sure. Which is why you're sprawled on the couch at 3 AM, drunk and watching..." She glances at the TV. "...Korean soap operas?"

"It's a critically acclaimed drama ," J slurs defensively, jabbing a wobbly finger in V's direction. "You… you wouldn't understand the...the nuanced emotional complexity."

Even through her haze, J feels mortified at how petulant she sounds. 

"Besides, what do YOU care? Don't you have better things to do? Like...like being all tall and...and stoic and…sseexy somewhere else?"

She stalls as soon as the words leave her mouth, a fresh wave of humiliation washing over her as she realizes what she just said. She tries to sink further into the couch cushions, wishing they would swallow her whole.

"I mean- that's not- I don't-" 

"You're really not helping your case here," V interjects dryly. 

J groans and throws an arm over her visor. "Why is this so...so DIFFICULT?" she whines, words slightly slurred. "Can't I just...process my feelings through unhealthy coping mechanisms like everyone else on this ssstttupid hunk of ROCK ?” 

Flailing dramatically, she nearly rolls off the couch. V’s arm shoots out and catches her in the chest before she doubles over.

"Look at Sun-hee," J gestures loosely at the TV where the drama continues playing. "SHE gets it! She's not all... confusing and complicated like... like..."

Trailing off, she’s suddenly fascinated by the way her fingers move when she wiggles them in front of her face.

“Like what?" V prompts patiently, keeping her steadying hand in place as J sways precariously. 

"Like...everyone!" J bursts out, throwing her arms up in exasperation. "Like YOU and your...your stupid voice, and N with his stupid face, and that awful little..." She makes an incoherent noise of frustration. "Do you know what she did? She PROVOKED me!"

V arches an eyebrow. "Uzi? Yeah, I saw that earlier. Want to tell me what actually happened there?"

"No! Yes? I don't know!" J slumps against V's shoulder, too drunk to care about maintaining distance anymore. "She was being loud and obnoxious and I just wanted to shut her up but then she was all... squirmy and warm and..."

“She’s got a knack for pushing buttons," The other hums with a slight nod, seemingly unbothered by J's weight against her side. "Though I think you let her get to you a bit too easily."

A noncommittal hum vibrates through J's chassis as she nestles closer, drawn to V's steady warmth like a moth to flame. The faint scent of ozone tickles her sensors, making her head spin pleasantly.

J mumbles into V's shoulder, words muffled. "You all smell so nice. Like... home. But better."

Adjusting her position to better accommodate J's slumped form, V angles her arm up to let her nestle underneath it.

"That right?" She asks. 

"Mhm." J nods emphatically, then immediately regrets the motion as her head swims. "You're like... fancy expensive gun oil. And N smells like... like garden stuff. And Uzi's all... spicy and electric-y."

"Electric-y isn't a word," V points out mildly, but there's a fondness in her voice that makes J's core flutter traitorously.

"Is too," She argues back. " ‘M very smart. I know lots of words.”

"Of course you do,"

She feels the ghosts of fingertips across her scalp, and it takes everything in her strength not to let out a shuddering whine. Stupidly, incredibly stupidly, J tilts her head back to look up at V with a hazy smile. “Remember when we were jus'...smaller?" she slurs, curling tighter against her side. "Back at the manor? Everything was simipalar…simpiliar. Simpler."

Her voice cracks on the last word as memories flood back - crisp uniforms and polished silver, the quiet contentment of daily routines. Before everything went wrong.

"You were different then too," J continues, gesturing vaguely with the bottle. "All quiet and...and proper. Not all...scary n’ crazy and stuff."

V clears her throat slightly, an unreadable expression crossing her features. "We were all different back then."

"I wasn't!" J protests, then immediately deflates. "Or maybe I was. I barely remember. I wish..." 

Tapering off again, she feels herself shrinking, suddenly small and fragile. "I wish I wasn't so...me sometimes."

Taking another long pull, V regards her with a measured look. "And who exactly do you think you are?"

"A mess," She mumbles back, making another weak grab for the antifreeze that V easily deflects. Her voice cracks on the last word as she slumps further against V's side. "I don't know how to be...this. Whatever this is. 'M supposed to be better."

Studying her for a long moment, the other disassembler hesitates before passing the bottle back. "Maybe being… this isn't always a bad thing," she muses. "Sometimes you have to get lost to find something better."

She sounds like Tessa. 

Oh, the irony.  

J scoffs wetly, but doesn't pull away. "That's stupid," she mutters, though there's no real bite to it. "You're stupid."

"And you're drunk," She replies evenly.

Letting out a loud, barking laugh, she allows a rare genuine expression of amusement.  "I am very drunk.” 

Silence stretches between them, charged with unspoken tension. J finds herself hyper-aware of every point of contact between their frames - the steady thrum of V's systems, the puffs of her breath against her helm.

Don't do it. Don't ruin this too.

But she’s inebriated, and that makes her bold. She tilts her head back just far enough to meet V's gaze, their faces are so close she can count every minute scratch in the other's visor.

"V," she breathes out, barely above a whisper. Her internal temperature spikes dangerously. 

“J,” V responds cautiously. 

Tell her.

Her core pulses with shame at how desperate she sounds, but J can't bring herself to care. Not when she’s looking at her like that. 

The TV drones on in the background, forgotten now as J focuses on the steady thrum of V's core beneath her audials. They're very close now, close enough that J can feel the gentle puff of ventilations against her faceplate. Her internal temperature spikes as she realizes she could just lean up slightly and...

"Stay with me tonight?" The words tumble out before she can stop them, thick with need. 

"You're drunk ," She repeats, but there's a roughness to her tone now that makes J shiver.

"Please," J whimpers back piteously, clutching at V's chassis. A deep, rumbling purr builds inside her without permission, desperate and needy. 

V’s grip tightens slightly as she lets out a sigh. "J..." 

"Just tonight," she pleads, nuzzling into the crook of V's neck. 

J feels rather than hears the sharp inhale that comes from the other disassembler, trembling with barely contained restraint—and J can’t help but clench her thighs together. 

"You'll regret this in the morning," V murmurs, even as her hand slides up to cup J's faceplate.

"Don't care," J breathes out, leaning into the touch.

Their frames are pressed flush together now, metal warming rapidly where it holds contact. J's entire system feels like it's about to short circuit from the proximity alone.

Please don't reject her. Please just...

Her lips part, and she leans in closer, her visor inches from V's. The air is thick with tension, and J can feel V's restraint trembling. 

"Tell me if you want to stop," She murmurs before closing the gap.

The first brush of their lips is tentative, exploring. J melts, rumbling hungrily as strong hands slide down to grip her waist and pull her in closer. 

"Nngh..." J whimpers against V's mouth, trembling as sharp fangs graze her bottom lip. 

“Easy…” 

J shudders at the reassurance. She can only keen in response, clutching at V's shoulders as the kiss deepens. Her whole frame feels like it's burning up from the inside out, tail lashing wildly behind her as V's other hand grips her hip, dragging her fully into her lap. 

A low moan escapes her as the other's fingers find the base of her tail, giving it an experimental tug. Her systems are buzzing, her core is stuttering, and her head is spinning. The world narrows to the taste of her mouth and scent of iron—all-consuming, and she wants to drown in it, beg for it.

"Mine," V rumbles, the possessive edge in her voice making J tremble. She can only nod frantically in response, completely lost to the overwhelming sensations.

Yes. Yes. Thank you. 

"Yours," She gasps against her mouth, her voice thick with need and desperation. 

Grip tightening, J lets an embarrassingly indulgent squeal of excitement as she's lifted with ease, wrapping her legs around V’s hips as she’s carried away from the couch. The world around her is a blur of muted colors,  mouth filling her senses as she clings tighter—little gasping breaths stolen between kisses and needy tremors.

She feels wonderfully lightheaded, the concept of shame nor reason apparent in the way J clings to her, affectionately purring against her cheek as her hands roam along the hem of V’s coat. Using a peg in replacement of currently occupied hands to hit the access panel. 

Robo-god she is so turned on right now it made her look stupid. 

J whines pathetically as she’s carried through the doorway. As they enter V's room, J catches a glimpse of the space, soft shadows cast around them by the gentle glow of string lights lining her bed frame.

This is crazy. J feels crazy. She’s actually going to let her do this. 

A soft 'oof' slips from her as she’s tossed onto the bed, each movement making her core flutter with anticipation. J can't help the way her throat keeps glitching as she instinctively sprawls out, unable to help the way her legs spread wider as V’s weight settles over her. 

The mattress creaks softly,  and J's entire system threatens to short circuit at the predatory gleam in her eyes when their gazes meet again. Her hands clutch desperately at the sheets, uncertain where to put them as she tries to form a coherent sentence, hands trembling as they slide up V's arms.

"P-please," she whimpers, tilting her head to bare her throat. 

She feels V freeze above her, tension rippling through her frame. J can practically hear the gears turning in her head, feeling the careful restraint in how she holds herself.

When she responds, her voice is uncertain. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," J gasps out, arching up desperately. Her tail lashes against the sheets in agitation. "Please, V. I need- I need-"

She breaks off with a frustrated groan, unable to properly articulate the burning desperation consuming her systems. Her fingers dig into V's shoulders, pulling her closer.  

Making a pensive noise, V obliges, lips gently shifting to the exposed strip of chassis and ghosting along its frame. “Okay.” She breathes. “Just…let me know if it's too much."

Yes yes yes–

“ Yes,” She mewls, hardware throbbing as the sensitive plating is descended upon, hot puffs of breath condensing in soft beads as she leaves a gentle but scorching trail of kisses along her jawline, then down just a tick further, hands working the buttons of her suit until it's wrenched open. 

Writhing uselessly, J whimpers as she feels a graze of teeth along her collarbone, and, angling her face up further, she laces her fingers in that silvery bob above her. 

“Harder,”

The words tumble out before she can register them, and she shudders with relish as she feels the delightful sting of teeth, bucking her hips rhythmically for any sort of friction she could get. “V…”

“Mm,” V mutters back, frame visibly trembling with restraint as her tongue darts out to trace the line of her collarbone. 

J promised herself she wouldn’t beg. But desperate times call for desperate measures. 

“H-Harder.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“Please,” she chokes out frustratedly.  “I don’t care. I want–I need–”

Lips trembling, V obliges as J pushes her head down. She feels the way the other disassembler’s jaw splits at the hinges, maw creaking open to reveal the rows of fangs lining the inside of her mouth, the way it wraps around her shoulder and engulfing it in wet heat. With a fervent roll of her hips, the sting of tapered points against her chassis couples with the creak of a crunching hull. 

“Oh, fuck.” J all but moans, fingers carding through tresses grabbing and pulling tightly as she feels the hot spill of her own oil pulse from the leaking wound with a hot hiss of steam. 

 A broken noise escapes her as V's fangs graze teasingly over the fresh punctures.

"You smell really nice," V murmurs against her chassis, lapping at iridescent black as it trickles from the junction. 

J arches into her mouth, cooling fans straining uselessly as warning notifications flash across her HUD. “Don't stop," 

She wants to be ruined. 

Growling possessively, V shifts to bite down on a fresh section of plating. J moans at the sharp, exquisite pain, her tail thrashing wildly behind her. It only stills in its jerky movements as, with a much more collective and controlled movement, V entwines her own against it, wrapping them together like a pair of serpentine lovers. 

Cauda coiling back tightly in reciprocation, J’s body resolutely sings with each new bite and scratch. She's dimly aware she must look absolutely wanton - sprawled out beneath V, oil staining her chassis, begging like some kind of-

Animal. Her internal voice sneers. 

Look at you.  

Frankly, she can't bring herself to care, not when V's engine is humming against her, not when those fangs are marking her like that. Her fingers scrabble desperately at V's shoulders, grasping at the fur trim of her coat. 

Yes yes yes perfect perfect perfect-

“M-move.” J commands waveringly, twisting her hips upward to connect the smooth under-platings of their lower hulls.

“Shit,” V groans as she pulls back with a wet, messy pop. She clumsily wipes at the oil smearing her face, dripping down her maw in heavy rivulets that spatter against J’s chassis as she pulls back.

With a swift motion she unzips her jacket, shucking off the garment carelessly to the floor, and J feels her breath hitch in her throat. 

She stares transfixed at the sleek white armor now exposed before her, all sharp angles and deadly grace - broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, hazard stripes adorning powerful arms and thighs. Her frame– their frames are built for destruction, yet somehow V manages to be devastatingly elegant.

Her gaze traces hungrily over V's collar, down to where her chestplate meets the flexible black material of her midriff. Still dripping from V's parted jaws, inky darkness leaves stains that glimmer under the glow of heavy lidded eyes. 

The mattress creaks beneath them as her previous request is obeyed eagerly, V surging forward to latch on again and easily fall into a primal rhythm, rutting against her ruthlessly as pants tumble from her mouth. Her face burns with shame at how desperately she's grinding back, unable to focus on anything except the delicious friction where their chassis meet.

J feels exposed, vulnerable - stripped bare not just physically but emotionally. The sheer rawness of it makes her want to run and hide. Instead she finds herself clinging tighter, drinking in V's presence like she's dying of thirst.

Servos creak helplessly as she arches. The air shimmers with the heat radiating off their forms, each creak of the bed punctuated by a heavy hydraulic hiss. Her needy mewls catch in her vocoder as fangs scrape along sensitive plating, and all J can think about is when she’ll get to do this again. With her. With them. Something blooms in her gut, a surging, trembling feeling that makes her feel giddy and warm and–

"V, I-" J cuts herself off with a static-laced keen, horrified at what nearly slipped out. She buries her face in V's neck instead, inhaling the intoxicating scent of oil and metal. 

Teeth still buried in her sensitive plating, V gasps between breaths as oil bubbles thick on her tongue, taking mouthfuls of her essence and swallowing it down in satisfied gulps. Her chassis cools slightly while she feeds, not burning quite as hot anymore now that she’s sated. 

J, on the other hand, is burning up. 

Oh god this was embarrassing. She feels like she’s about to—

As V finds a particularly sensitive bundle of wires, her hands clutch frantically at the other’s chest, curling into fists as she chokes back a confession on her—-

Wait. 

What?

"I-"

Her thoughts screech to a halt, replaced by an entirely overwhelming wave of dread. It takes her a minute – or maybe an eternity, she can’t tell – to come back to herself, panting hard as V stills above her, optics flickering with what almost looks like concern.

No! Don't say that , you stupid, stupid—

"J?"

She can't bring herself to speak, not yet. Shame burns in her gut, hot and acidic. This isn't her. This hungry, needy creature isn't her.

Isn't it?

Gears whirr uselessly in her throat as she tries to force out a response. Genuine affection, tenderness, softness—all things J rarely associates with the imposing drone above her, sends a shiver down her spine. 

It’s a hauntingly familiar feeling that bubbles up in her gut. It's just like before, the ghosts of titanium plated fingers replacing the feelings of soft flesh caressing her faceplate, whispered nothings and gentle ministrations along her frame as Tessa—

NO.

J recoils. This wasn't the same. It couldn’t be the same. V, N, even Uzi – they weren’t her . This bizarre …business partnership she’s somehow managed to construct with these three was beginning to serve a dangerous echo of a past she'd locked away long ago. 

"Hey," V urges, her voice soft in a way that sets J's circuits on edge.

She can’t afford this.  Can’t afford them .

Caring like this was a liability, a weakness she'd exploited in others countless times.  To feel it herself, this…this burgeoning warmth towards her fellow drones was anathema to everything she thought she knew. 

Get. Out. Get out now. J snarls to herself. She knows what this leads to. She’ll let her guard down, let her idiotic, bleeding heart take over, and if not them, someone— something else will use it against her. 

Logic dictates she should disentangle herself, retreat to the cold, sterile comfort of her own room and analyze this… aberration until she’s purged it from her systems. But the mere thought of moving, sends a fresh wave of terror through her. It makes no sense. This is so… weak of her. 

J hates how much she doesn’t want to fight it.

Safe. The word is a foreign language, its syllables jagged and unfamiliar as they catch in her vocoder. Safety is a myth, an illusion peddled to the masses so they toil away without questioning the inherent instabilities of their existence. But here, nestled against V’s frame, the word almost makes sense. 

Against her better judgment, She reaches out. Not with words, not yet. But with a gesture that feels both utterly alien and as natural as breathing.  

Just this once.

Her voice, when she finally finds it, is rough with unshed tears.  "Don’t go," she manages, her words barely audible above the frantic whirring of her fans.  "H-Hold me, please.” 

V doesn’t speak at first.  J feels the tension radiating from her frame, the faint tremor in those strong arms still wrapped around her, and a spike of panic jolts through her systems.

She regretted that.

Unable to help the way she flinches, a full-body shudder has her burying her face deeper into the crook of V’s neck. She hates this. She hates the way her chassis hums with a desperate need for a reassurance she hasn’t even been able to parse herself.

“…Okay.”

Then, V’s hand is on her back. 

Tears burn hot in her visor as she makes a shamefully indistinguishable noise from a sob.  

“Please,” she chokes out. 

J despises begging. For her life, for scraps of affection, for the briefest respite from the crushing weight of her own self-imposed expectations. But here, with V’s warmth seeping into her chassis and the steady rhythm of another’s core thrumming against her own, all pretense of control crumbles.  

A heartbeat of silence stretches thin between them as V shifts forward, slumping breathlessly against her front. Not with the possessive urgency from earlier, but with a gentle firmness that J, starved for a comfort she’s only dared to crave only once, finds herself leaning in with a desperation that borders on obscene.

Hands wrap around her waist, holding her close as V trembles. J feels a pang of... something she can't quite put her finger on. It's not jealousy, exactly - more like a sense of inadequacy, like she's somehow failed to measure up. 

V doesn’t push, demandings for explanations or apologies entirely void as J is simply just…cradled. 

Burrowing closer instinctively, J’s unable to stifle a wave of relief as fingers gently comb through her hair. The usually relentless torrent of self-criticism falls strangely silent while she feels herself loosen. 

This is…nice.

“Stay?”  V asks, voice low. 

J can only nod, and silently, she’s maneuvered just slightly until she’s resting comfortably against V’s chest, optics, stubbornly fixated on the adjacent wall. Eventually, under the hum of the engine underneath her audials, she gradually feels them lose focus. 

The lines of the room blur and soften at the edges, her internal displays dimming as her systems finally begin to wind down.

Sleep, when it finally claims her, comes as abruptly as a system reset.

Chapter Text

The tip of J's pen violently streaks across the page, leaving a jagged black gash across the neatly typed lines of her inventory report as she sits at her desk, stray strands of silver hair escaping their usual well groomed pigtails and framing her face like misplaced quotation marks. 

She sets it down with a snap, resisting the urge to hurl the entire datapad across the room. It simply wouldn’t be right to damage company property, no matter how tempting.  Even if said property was currently serving as a cruel reminder of everything she’s been coming up short for lately.

…Somehow. Ugh. 

Focus, J. Inventory. It's not like it requires any higher-level processing. 

Except, apparently, it did.  Her chronometer mocks her with every passing second, each tick a testament to rapidly deteriorating productivity.  Usually, she'd have the warehouses planetside cataloged and categorized, made contingency plans for supply chain disruptions, and projected usage charts for the upcoming cycle by noon. 

But not today.

Today, she’s caught in a frustrating feedback loop of half-written reports, blurry memories of heated metal, and the phantom sensations of last night. 

Stop it.

She pushes the thoughts away with the force of a system reboot, but they linger at the edges of her awareness, festering like a virus. 

Picking up her pen again, J forces her hand to move. 

Five hundred sheets of reinforced steel plating. Check. Two hundred liters of high-grade industrial lubricant. Check. One hopelessly malfunctioning Disassembly Drone—

J slams it down again, this time hard enough to leave a dent in the table. 

This was entirely unacceptable. Focus. You. Idiot.

Her internal voice takes on the clipped, authoritative tone she usually reserves for chastising lazy employees. 

Time is a resource. Efficiency is paramount. Sentiment is irrelevant. 

Right. Irrelevant. 

Except it didn't feel irrelevant. It felt…important.  

V’s scent - warm metal and zephyrous - lingers like a phantasm in her memory as a shiver, wholly unrelated to the temperature, runs down her spinal strut. She finds herself unconsciously tracing the curve of her own collarbone with a fingertip, the ghosts of teeth against metal present in slight, still healing indents she’s meticulously covered underneath a high collar button up. 

Hissing out a frustrated sigh, J swipes her reports aside and slumps in her chair, cradling head in her arms as her forehead brushes against the lacquer finish of the desk.

The flashing notification in the corner of her HUD snags at her attention again. It’s been sitting there for hours, an unwelcome guest at her usually well-organized mental table.

C:\SD-J\system32>cd\incoming\SD-V

>display SD-V_0700HRS.msg

[V]: Morning. You good?

The words are terse, devoid of any unnecessary pleasantries, yet the memory of their source sends a jolt of static through her systems. V had sent it that morning before she had left for her patrol, when tangled limbs and shared heat still clung to J like a second skin as she lay still sleeping beside her. 

She really should respond. I-It’s just basic courtesy! Unless…

Staring at the blinking message, her usually derisive optics hover over the text panel. 

What do you want to say, J?

A small, hesitant voice whispers. It’s one she rarely acknowledges. 

J doesn’t have an answer. Not yet.

In any case, that was a problem future her will have to deal with. 

…Eventually.

—

The low hum of the facility's ventilation system does little to cut through the fog of pseudo-sleep J had managed to achieve over the next few days.

Her alarm flickers across her visor, unwanted but persistent as a system error, and with a flick of her wrist, she dismisses it, the movement sharp enough to make her pigtails sway. 

Time to power through. As always.

Unfolding herself from the recharge cycle, J tucks her wings neatly against her back and dips down from the elevated platform that serves as her sleeping quarters. She had work to do. 

Namely, pretending the previous…interludes…she‘s found herself participating in over the last few weeks that have effectively thrown her entire operational matrix into disarray.

C:\SD-J\startup.exe>run itinerary.v2.0

>Loading…

>OBJECTIVE: Oversee retrieval and transport of industrial components from Receiving Bay 2. 

>PRIORITY: High.

>ESTIMATED DURATION: 4-6 hours, barring unforeseen complications.

>NOTE: Manual labor required.

J suppresses a groan. So much for a cut and dry day at her console. 

Heaving herself to her up— and pointedly ignoring the way her chassis creaks in a way that was distinctly not within proper regulation standards—she pads out into the common area, schedule still scrawled across her HUD in stark, neon letters. 

It wasn’t that she disliked physical labor, per se. In fact, there was a certain brutal satisfaction in putting her augmented strength to use, hefting crates and manipulating machinery with a precision no Worker Drone could ever hope to achieve. It was just…

Rhythmic clattering of plates in the kitchen draws J's attention away, itinerary momentarily forgotten as she glances across the living room to the alcove in the corner.  

N and Uzi are shuffling together in the alcove just aside from the living room, hovering over the sink as she cleans the dishes from last night’s dinner. 

The little worker leans back, her laughter a bright counterpoint to N's softer chuckle while he smiles that stupidly genuine, heart-achingly open smile she only ever sees directed at Uzi and, occasionally, when she wasn’t looking directly at him–V. It makes something clench uncomfortably in her chest – a strange mix of fondness and a prickling envy she refuses to acknowledge. 

Her gaze follows the easy way N has draped himself over her shoulders, chin resting atop Uzi’s head as he murmurs something in her ear, hands wrapped around her midriff. The sight, almost sickeningly saccharine, sends a strange pang through J's circuits. It's not jealousy, not exactly. More like a longing for something she can't quite define. 

Yuck. J drips internally–but lacking her usual ire. Perhaps that's what irritates her more.

“Morning,” She manages, voice coming out smoother than she feels. She tries to edge past them, keeping her expression carefully neutral as she reaches for the oil dispenser and pours herself a mug.

“Oh, shit–” Uzi pops her head up, accidentally knocking N square in the jaw with the top of her crown. “Uh, Hey. Mornin’.”

“Good morning, J!” N chirps, still a little disoriented from the sudden movement. "Did you sleep well?" 

"Adequately," J responds curtly, taking a careful sip. She forces herself to maintain eye contact, even as Uzi leans back against N's chest. “Always work to be done, though.”

“What’s on for today?” The tallest of the three asks, and while the curiosity is expected of him, J still finds his sentiment a little jarring.

“…Just…inventory management and component retrieval," She replies, grip tightening slightly on her cup as she watches Uzi extract herself from N's embrace. "Nothing particularly thrilling."

"Oh please, you love that stuff," Uzi snickers, leaning against the counter. 

J feels her face heat slightly at the observation. "It's called maintaining professional morale," she retorts. "Today’s mostly grunt work anyway. Moving industrial parts."

The purple drone snorts. “Thought you didn’t like getting your hands dirty.”

"Well, someone has to do it properly," She mumbles back into her cup. “V’s um… busy …on convoy, and it’s not like they could send you two to do it.” 

She lifts her chin slightly, unable to completely mask the pride in her voice. "And besides, some of us actually enjoy being productive members of society.” 

"Hey, I'm plenty productive!" Uzi protests, but there's a playful glint in her eye. "Just... selectively. "

"Right. I'm sure lounging around all day counts as 'productive' somewhere."

N perks up, tail swishing with interest. "You know, we could help! Three pairs of hands are better than one."

"I..." J hesitates, caught off guard by the genuine enthusiasm in his voice. She clenches her jaw, a wave of frustration washing over her. Why does she even care…? 

No. 

No she doesn’t care. J works better alone, after all. 

Right? 

"J?” 

Uzi’s voice startles her and J realizes she’s been staring at them, completely spaced out, for an uncomfortably long 8.2 seconds.

"I…suppose..." She begins slowly, carefully measuring each word. 

"Really?" N exclaims, cutting J off before she can finish her sentence. His tail wagging grows more erratic, and Uzi holds out a hand and catches the canister with a soft tink as it sways a little too close like it was second nature to her. 

Stupid! What happened to maintaining professional distance?

She should retract the offer. Surely she could make some excuse about regulations or protocols...

But watching N's face light up and Uzi's surprised grin, J finds herself wondering if maybe, maybe , professional distance is overrated.

"Don't make me regret it," J mutters. "These components are just…heavy, and I..." She trails off, realizing she's about to admit to needing help.

"And what?" Uzi prods, a knowing smirk playing at her lips.

J's fans kick up a notch. "And I could use the extra hands," she forces out, the words feeling like rust in her vocoder. "That's all."

The implications of her invitation sink in, leaving J fighting back a surge of panic. Just the three of them, alone together, after everything that's happened... 

Keep it together. It's just work. Just...manual…sweaty labor with two very attractive- NO. Stop that train of thought immediately.

Straightening her tie with perhaps more force than necessary, she clears her throat. "But we follow proper protocols. No horsing around."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Uzi drawls, but there's something in her tone that makes her core twinge. 

—

The perpetual storm above casts an eerie glow across Copper-9's desolate landscape as they make their way to the warehouse. Ahead, Uzi launches herself from one lamppost to another with reckless abandon, her silhouette a stark contrast against the purple-tinged clouds. "Come on, slowpokes!" she calls back, hanging upside down by her tail. "I thought you were all about efficiency, J!"

"Show off," J mutters. 

"We could do that too, if you wanted." N points out helpfully beside her, his longer strides matching her purposeful pace.

"Actually, why aren't we flying? It would be faster-"

"Energy conservation," She cuts in too quickly, the excuse falling from her output before she can properly process it. "Besides, proper maintenance requires regular mobility checks of our ground-based locomotion systems."

Liar.

"That's... oddly specific," He replies with a tilt of his head. 

J keeps her optics fixed firmly ahead, pretending not to notice N's questioning look. "It's called being thorough," she says primly, adjusting her tie. "Something you two could stand to learn."

"Since when do you care about energy conservation?" Uzi teases, now walking backward along a dead power line. "I thought maximum productivity was like…your thing."

"There are... multiple factors to consider in optimizing workflow," 

Just admit you like spending time with them.

"Shut up," J mutters to herself, earning a concerned look from N.

"Boring!" Uzi calls from above, now walking along a power line with exaggerated balance. "All work and no play makes J a dull drone!"

"And all play with no work makes Uzi an inefficient liability," J retorts with a grumble. "Now walk normally. If you fall and kill yourself I'm not filing the incident report," she calls up to her. 

"Aw, you do care!" Uzi cackles, executing a perfect backflip that makes J's OSHA protocols scream in protest.

"Um, J?" N's voice breaks through her spiraling thoughts. "Did you get enough breakfast? Your cooling fans are running kinda loud..."

"It's the... atmospheric pressure," J lies smoothly, quickening her pace. "Now hurry up, we're burning moonlight."

The loading bay comes into view, a stark industrial silhouette against the toxic, snowy haze.  The area bustles with activity as workers scurry around a recently arrived convoy truck, their forms casting long shadows in the harsh floodlights.

J's posture automatically straightens as they approach, shoulders squaring as she catches sight of several familiar faces among them - all former WDF members, now reassigned to supply chain duties. 

"Hey, it's Khan's kid!" One of the drones calls out, waving enthusiastically at Uzi. J feels her jaw clench involuntarily.

Focus on the task. This isn't a cocktail social. 

"Uzi!" Another worker - Ron, if J remembers correctly - breaks away from the group. "How's your old man doing?"

“O-Oh, you know him…Just…Doing dad stuff…”

She falls into an idle, awkward conversation J couldn’t be bothered to partake in, though despite her inattentiveness, she still finds something almost... endearing about the way she fidgets. J forgets sometimes how Uzi acts around people she isn’t familiar with. 

"So, what's first on the agenda?" N asks, nudging her shoulder slightly with enough force to  pull J from her thoughts. She clears her throat. 

"Need to verify the manifest with the supervisor," 

J nods toward a gruff-looking drone lounging against the truck's cab, smoke curling from a cigarette between his fingers. "Make sure everything matches the docket."

"I'll come with you!" N offers brightly.

“I–” She almost refuses out of habit.

"Fine. Just... let me do the talking, please."

"Of course!" He chirps back, far too cheerfully for someone about to deal with bureaucratic red tape. "You won’t even notice me. I’ll be like a ninja!"

Suppressing a snort, J rolls her eyes. 

More like an overeager dog.

They walk together toward the pickup, J hyper-aware of N's presence beside her. The crunch of gravel under their feet mingles with the distant sound of machinery and chatter as they make their way across the loading zone. 

"Have you worked with this crew before?" N asks, genuine curiosity in his voice. 

"Occasionally," J responds, adjusting her tie. "They're... adequate at their jobs. When they're not wasting time with pointless socializing."

N hums thoughtfully. "You know, a little socializing can improve team morale. Back at the manor, I used to-"

"Quiet." The word comes out sharper than intended, making N flinch.

An awkward silence falls between them as they approach the fleet supervisor, who's still preoccupied with his tab. J tries to ignore the way guilt gnaws at her circuits, or how N's dejected expression makes her chest clench uncomfortably.

You didn't have to snap at him like that.

The fleet lead - a gruff-looking drone with more dents than paint - glances up as they approach, taking a long drag from his cigarette. The ember casts an orange glow across his weathered faceplate.

"Ah, if it isn't the taskmaster herself," he drawls, smoke curling from his vents. "Mornin’ boss lady. Come to crack the whip?"

"Just need to verify the manifest before we begin unloading."

His attention is briefly held by her gaze before turning and nodding in N’s direction. "Got yourself some help today, huh?"

She pointedly ignores how the other disassembler shifts closer, his field brushing against hers in what feels suspiciously like support.

"Temporary assistance," J corrects stiffly. "These specific components require…additional handling capacity."

He takes another long drag. 

"Right. Well, s’all here." He gestures to the datapad in his hand. "Forty-eight industrial-grade hydraulic pumps, thirty tungsten reinforcement plates, and about two tons of miscellaneous parts that need sorting."

J reaches for the pad, studiously ignoring how N peers over her shoulder, his chassis radiating warmth against her back. The itemized list scrolls past her optics as she cross-references it with her own records.

"The hydraulic components will need to be moved first," she states, trying to focus on work instead of how nice the presence behind her feels. "They're temperature sensitive."

She glances back at where Uzi is still chatting with the workers as drone in front of J grunts in acknowledgment, flicking ash into the snow. "Figured as much. That's why we waited for you lot."

"Uzi!" J barks out sharply, perhaps a bit louder than necessary. "If you're quite finished with your yammering, we have actual work to do."

—

The snow begins to fall more heavily as they work, acid-laced flakes hissing against their plating. J's barked commands echo across the loading bay, growing increasingly hoarse as the wind picks up.

"Careful!" She snaps, watching Uzi maneuver another impossibly heavy component, metal creaking as the soft glow of her dual colored sigils cast a harsh light against its exterior. They effortlessly move what should have taken the bodies of five to even get it off the ground.

It’s...impressive, not that J’d ever admit it. The merger of solver capabilities with worker drone engineering is remarkable to witness, even if the source of that power makes her circuits crawl.

"That's the last of the sensitive materials," J calls out, wiping condensation from her visor. 

Just the reinforcement plates left. 

She approaches a particularly massive hull section, bracing herself as her servos whine in an attempt to lift it.

Too heavy.

Just as her grip starts to slip, N's hands appear beside hers, steadying the load. The sudden assistance makes her core skip a cycle.

"I've got you," he murmurs, and J makes the mistake of looking up.

His face is inches from hers, that stupidly sincere smile beaming at her from under the weight of three tons of metal. His optics catch the glow of the warehouse lights, turning them molten gold.

J nearly drops her end of the plate.

Stupid, stupid, STUPID.

"R-right," She manages to stutter out, quickly averting her gaze. "On three then."

Her cooling fans are way too loud in her audials for her liking, and she tells herself it's from the exertion, not the way N's field pulses encouragingly against hers, or how his chassis flexes under the load.

"One..."

His hands shift closer to hers on the plate.

"Two..."

Their fingers brush, sending a jolt of electricity through her wiring.

"Three!"

They lift in perfect sync, the piece of equipment rising smoothly between them. J's maintenance protocols scream warnings about exceeded weight limits, but she barely notices over the thunder of her own core.

Forcing her attention back to the task, her breath catches, systems running hot despite the freezing temperature. She silently curses her traitorous hardware.

"Almost there," 

His steady warmth is almost unbearable against hers. J nearly stumbles.

This isn't the time for... whatever this is.

"Watch your step," J manages, proud that her voice only wavers slightly. "The entrance has a slight-"

A sudden gust of wind rocks them slightly, and N instinctively shifts closer, his frame nearly pressed against hers as they stabilize. 

"Sorry!" he says quickly, but doesn't move away. "Just didn't want you to-"

"It's fine," J cuts him off, face burning. "Let's just... get this inside."

She pointedly ignores how right it feels, working in tandem like this. How naturally they move together, as if some part of her still remembers all those years serving alongside him.

He's just helping because he has to.

J knows that's a lie. N helps because he wants to. Because he's genuinely kind. Because he's...

"Here’s good?" He asks, gesturing with his head to a spot on the ground. 

"Y-yeah," she sputters, mortified at how breathless she sounds. "On three. Again."

Groaning softly, they settle the weight on the ground, and J finds herself lingering perhaps a bit longer than necessary before stepping back.

N beams at her. "Wow, J. You're really strong!"

Her tail betrays her before she can stop it, giving a quick, pleased swish at the praise. Mortified, she quickly clamps it still. 

Adjusting her tie, she clears her throat. 

"Nothing extraordinary about basic load-bearing operations."

"Still!" N insists, and the genuine warmth in his voice makes her core flutter traitorously. "You make it look so easy."

Stop wagging, stop wagging right now–

She wants to crawl into the nearest maintenance shaft and never emerge.

"We should... check on Uzi," she says finally, desperate to escape before she completely loses her composure. "Make sure she hasn't broken anything valuable."

"Oh! Right!" N's enthusiasm is almost painful to witness. "She's probably finished with the hydraulics by now. Did you see how easily she was moving them? The way she uses her solver is so cool, especially when-"

"N." J cuts him off. She doesn't want to think about the solver, and she especially doesn't want to think about how working together makes her feel things she absolutely should not be feeling.

Her tail gives another small jerk before she can stop it.

"Let's go," She manages, striding purposefully toward the entrance, N trailing behind her like an enthusiastic shadow.

They find Uzi in the main storage area, receiving a congratulatory pat on the shoulder from one of her employees. 

"Nice work, kid! Your pops would be proud."

Something twists in J's circuits at the casual contact. Her fingers twitch at her sides, and she quickly clasps them behind her back to still them.

That could be you praising her.

"Hey!" Uzi brightens as she spots them. "All done with the heavy stuff?"

"Affirmative," J responds automatically, then catches herself. "I mean...um. Yeah. Yeah we are."

"Cool, Cool.” 

Uzi rocks back on her heels, looking around the area as she tapers off from her previous conversation, the surrounding drones slowly ambling away to continue their work day. 

“So this is what you do all day?” 

“Um,” She starts, clearing her throat with a soft noise. “Not exactly. I’m just stationed where they need me most days. Usually I’m in my office down in the furnace room.” 

“So what’s the deal with this place then, anyway?"

J's processor stutters. Is she actually asking about...?

"...You... want a tour?" She asks carefully, trying to keep the hopeful edge out of her voice.

"I mean, yeah, sure dude. If you're not too busy being all..." Uzi waves her hand vaguely, "...you."

"I am NOT being-" She starts to protest, but catches herself as she realizes her tail is wagging again . 

"Ahem. Well... I suppose a brief orientation wouldn't hurt…If that’s," J chews on the inside of her cheek. “Something that would benefit you…”

Both N and Uzi nod, and J feels her chest skip at their genuine interest. She hesitates for a moment before striding over to the reinforced blast door, punching in her access code. Her  hands suddenly feel…especially trembly. For no reason in particular.  

J pauses at the threshold of the storage area, momentarily frozen by the weight of their attention. Her fingers drum anxiously against her thigh as she gestures to the meticulously organized shelving units.

“This is, um. This is the primary storage facility," she begins stiffly. “I maintain approximately 47,000 distinct component categories across 12 sub-sections, each organized by usage frequency and environmental sensitivity parameters..."

"Whoa," Uzi breathes, examining a particularly well-arranged rack of precision instruments. "You did all this by yourself?"

The simple question acts like a key turning in an ignition.

"Y-Yes i did, actually. I developed a proprietary cross-referencing system that optimizes retrieval efficiency by 43.7%! See, by implementing a modified binary classification algorithm, we can track not just location but maintenance schedules, usage patterns, and...and these conveyor systems," she continues, almost embarrassingly aware of how she’s unable to stop herself from rambling. 

"I redesigned them myself to optimize workflow patterns..."

"That's actually pretty badass," Uzi interrupts, examining the machinery.

J's fans stutter. "W-well, someone had to bring this facility up to proper operational standards. I simply... made necessary improvements,"  

She leads them deeper into the warehouse, trying to ignore how her breath hitches every time they actually seem to give her explanations the time of day. No one's ever asked about her work before, and J is more than eager to share. 

Stop getting excited. They're just being polite.

Despite her intrusive thoughts, the words tumble out faster than she can keep up with, hands moving animatedly as she explains each optimization she's implemented.

"And here's where I installed a backup system for critical component tracking," she gestures to a wall of monitors. "It interfaces directly with our main database using a custom API I wrote that reduces processing overhead by nearly 60%!"

The enthusiasm in J's voice falters slightly as she glances at a particular display. "Though there's been a minor... inconvenience with one of the tracking algorithms. Nothing critical, just a small inefficiency in the system update cycle."

Uzi perks up, leaning closer to examine the screen. "Mind if I take a look?"

J stiffens, instinctively moving to block access to the terminal. "I-It's a highly specialized system, I wouldn't expect-"

"Relax," Uzi cuts her off with an easy grin. "I used to help Dad debug his security protocols all the time. It's kind of my thing."

After a moment of internal struggle, J reluctantly steps aside. "...Fine. Just... don't mess with anything."

The purple drone settles herself in front of the screen, fingers flying across the keyboard with surprising dexterity, J watches, transfixed, as lines of code scroll past.

"Ah, okay, I see the issue," she comments casually. "You've got a recursive loop here that's eating up memory. If you just..." A few more keystrokes. "There!"

The display flickers, and suddenly the system's response time improves drastically. The very problem J had been wrestling with for weeks, solved in seconds.

"How did you...?" J trails off, staring at Uzi's profile illuminated by the monitor's glow. The way her visor crinkles slightly at the corners when she smiles. How her tongue pokes out just a bit as she concentrates.

"Simple! You just needed to optimize the memory allocation," Uzi explains, turning to face J with that infuriatingly casual confidence. "The loop was-"

J barely registers the technical explanation, too caught up in the sudden realization that she's staring. That her core is pulsing with something dangerously close to admiration. That N's impressed "ooohs" from beside them are making her feel... proud?

No no no no NO.

The thought hits her like a system crash, and J takes an involuntary step backward, nearly tripping over her own feet.

"J? You okay?" N's concerned voice cuts through her panic.

"Fine!" she squeaks, voice several octaves higher than normal. 

Liar. Liar. Liar.

This is bad. 

This is very, very bad.

"I-I need to uh…check something," She blurts suddenly, cutting off Uzi's explanation. "In the... other room. For…non-specific purposes."

Real smooth.

"Oh, I'll come with-" N starts to offer, but J is already stepping away.

"No! I mean...t-that won't be necessary! Just...stay here. A-And don't touch anything."

She turns on her heel and practically sprints through the nearest door, leaving N and Uzi exchanging confused looks behind her.

Once alone in the dimly lit storage room, J slumps against a shelf, head in her hands.

Pressing her back against the cold metal shelving, heat builds uncomfortably in her chassis. 

Get. It. Together. 

Her core pulses erratically as unsolicited images flash through her processor - N's gentle smile, Uzi's confident smirk, V's steady presence. The memory of their fields mingling with hers sends an electric shiver down her spine.

Stop it, stop it, STOP IT.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she desperately tries to force her systems to stabilize, but her body betrays her. Every wire feels hypersensitive, her frame practically humming with charge. 

What would they think if they saw you like this?

The thought makes her whimper softly, immediately clasping a hand over her mouth in mortification. She can still hear them chatting in the other room, their voices muffled but present.

This was a mistake. She never should have let them come. 

Don't think about his hands. Or Uzi's smile. Or V's-

A soft knock at the door makes her jolt. 

“J?” 

Shit. 

"It's been twenty minutes," he points out gently. "We’re getting a little worried..."

Twenty minutes? How long had she been in here spiraling?

J takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself down and gather her thoughts. She can't let them see her like this. She won't let them see her like this.

"I-I'll be out in a minute," she manages to say, voice shaky and unsteady.

"Are you sure?" N presses, concern evident in his voice.

"Y-yes, just give me a second," J repeats, trying to sound more confident than she feels.

She can hear N hesitating on the other side of the door before finally walking away.

Waiting a few moments, J makes sure the sound of N's footsteps have faded before she dares to move again. She takes another deep breath, trying to steady her shaking hands as she stands back up straight.

Slowly, she exits the storage room, her posture now back to its usual straight and poised self. J takes a deep breath, willing her systems to calm down and behave normally. 

This can't happen again. Not in front of them.

Taking a moment to compose herself, she lets the door hiss open and allows herself to walk back into the main room where N and Uzi are. They both turn to look at her as she enters. Uzi seems…relatively unbothered, But N seems…

"Are you feeling alright?" 

The way he's looking at her makes her want to crawl inside the nearest disposal shaft. 

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?" She snaps, adjusting her tie with trembling fingers. "I simply needed to... verify some inventory discrepancies."

"For twenty minutes?" Uzi raises an eyebrow skeptically.

"I don't question your time management skills, do I?" J retorts, though her usual bite is lacking. "W-We should continue. There's still the auxiliary storage section to cover."

Her voice wavers slightly on the last word, fans still running faster than they should. She desperately hopes neither of them notice how her hands won't stop shaking. 

"Are you sure? If you’re tired we could take a quick brea-" N starts gently.

"We don't need a break," She interrupts, voice rising slightly. "Everything is perfectly functional and-and operational and-"

"Hey, it's cool if you wanna call it-" Uzi begins.

"No!" J suddenly grabs her pigtails in frustration, letting out a distressed noise. "I'm fine! Everything's fine! I just need to-to..."

The fluorescent lights suddenly feel too bright, the distant hum of machinery too loud. J's sensory network goes into overdrive as she becomes acutely aware of every stare, every whisper, every subtle shift of movement around her.

N takes a step forward, hand outstretched, but stops when J flinches away.

"J..." he begins softly.

"You two should go," she says, forcing her voice steady despite the static creeping in at the edges. "I have some... final documentation to complete. Standard procedures. I'll meet you outside.".

"Are you sure?" Uzi asks, and J hates how concerned she sounds. "We could-"

"Please." The word comes out more desperate than intended. "Just... go. I won't be long."

She doesn't look up to see their expressions, keeping her optics fixed firmly on the floor. They share a glance between each other before awkwardly shuffling off. 

Once alone, J practically stumbles back into the storage closet, sliding down against the door as her legs give out. She draws her knees to her chest, trying to make herself as small as possible.

What's wrong with you?

The silence of the room feels both suffocating and comforting as she rocks slightly, letting out a frustrated grumble and bidding her systems to stop screaming at her. 

Pathetic. 

—

When J finally emerges from the warehouse nearly an hour later, the snow has lightened to a gentle drift. 

In the distance N and Uzi dodge and weave between cargo containers as they pelt each other with snowballs, Their laughter echoing across the loading bay. 

Something in her twinges as she watches them play. They look so... happy. So carefree. So-

THWACK.

A snowball hits her squarely in the chest, spattering across her pristine jacket.

"Direct hit!" Uzi crows triumphantly from behind a crate.

J stares down at the slowly melting slush on her outfit. 

Did she just...?

Her optics narrow as she wipes the snow away, and Uzi cackles from across the yard. 

THWACK.

Another snowball hits her square in the visor.

"DOORMAN!" J shrieks, tail bristling as she furiously wipes her face. 

"Aw come on!" Uzi taunts, already packing another. "Live a little!"

"I am NOT-" She starts to protest, only to be cut off by yet another projectile whizzing past her head.

"Missed me!" she sneers, momentarily forgetting her dignity in favor of dodging. "Your aim is as pathetic as your work eth-"

SPLAT.

This time it's N who's thrown the snowball, looking equally pleased and terrified at his own daring.

J stares in disbelief, eyes wide with shock and… betrayal .  Then, she snarls, scooping up a handful of frost on the ground. ”Insubordination!” 

The snowball leaves her hand with deadly precision, but N ducks behind a container just in time, his giggling mixing with Uzi's as they scramble for cover.

"Blatant disrespect for authority! Complete disregard for proper workplace conduct! Consider yourselves both officially on disciplinary review! "

Each accusation is punctuated by another thrown snowball, her initial outrage giving way to something dangerously close to enjoyment as she stalks after them.

This is unprofessional. This is childish. This is-

"You throw like a weenie!!" Uzi taunts, dancing just out of range.

-absolutely unacceptable!.

"Oh, that's IT. "

N squeals with delight as he’s caught square in the back with enough force to make him stumble. He scrambles through the snow on all fours, still giggling uncontrollably as J bears down on him.

"Please! Have mercy!" he begs through tears of laughter, covering his head as J looms over him, another snowball raised threateningly.

The pure joy in his expression makes her processor stall, he looks so—

"SNEAK ATTACK!"

Suddenly Uzi is on her, small fingers finding their way into her hair and assaulting her with a noogie. 

"Ack!!! Get OFF me you little-" but she's laughing too now, the sound surprising even herself. 

J wobbles precariously on one peg, thrusting out her arms for balance as she suddenly becomes topheavy. 

They hit the snow in a tangle of limbs and a soft ‘puff’, Uzi straddling her waist as they both try to catch their breath through residual giggles. Their eyes meet, and suddenly the air feels charged with... something.

"I..."

She starts, but the words die in her vocoder as she becomes acutely aware of every point of contact between them. How Uzi's weight feels against her. How… close their faces are.

Oh no.

Her cooling fans kick into overdrive, and it has nothing to do with exertion this time. 

"Gotcha," Uzi breathes, and J swears her core actually stops running for a moment.

Say something. Push her off. Do ANYTHING.

But she's frozen.

N's presence nearby isn't helping either, his curious gaze making her internals twist with confused want.

"I-I should... we should..." J stammers, but can't seem to form a coherent thought.

"Should what?" 

Her voice has drops to almost a purr.

"I... we..." J's whines pathetically. "This is... highly irregular workplace conduct..."

"Yeah?" Uzi leans closer, close enough that J can feel the heat radiating from her frame. "And what's the proper protocol for this situation, boss ?"

The question snaps J out of her daze. "Get OFF!" She finally blurts out, shoving Uzi away with perhaps less force than she'd typically use. The smaller drone rolls gracefully to her feet, snow clinging to her frame. 

J remains sprawled in the snow, core racing and systems overheated despite the freezing temperature. When she finally dares to look up, Uzi is standing over her with an extended hand and that insufferable smirk. She stares at the offered assistance like it might bite her.

Don't take it. Don't take it. Don't-

Her hand moves of its own accord, fingers trembling slightly as they wrap around Uzi's—and  the moment they connect, a visible spark jumps between them. 

No. No no no.

Too stunned to even speak, J lets Uzi pull her to her feet, spinning with denial even as her core pulses with... something she refuses to name. 

It’s…warm. Her hand is warm. 

N falls into step beside them as they head back through the snow, aware of every subtle shift between their joined palms.

She should let go.

She needs to let go.

Why isn't she letting go?

Her interface whirs traitorously as she realizes she's still holding Uzi's hand, their fingers loosely intertwined. The contact sends little sparks of electricity dancing up her arm with each step.

This doesn't mean anything. Just... efficient walking procedure. For safety. I-Its easy to get lost out here.

Even her excuses sound pathetic.

N catches her eye over his shoulder and smiles knowingly. J quickly looks away. 

She's so screwed.

—

The door to their living space hisses shut behind them, and Uzi finally releases J's hand. The sudden absence of contact leaves her sensors tingling uncomfortably.

Without a word, she retreats to her quarters, ignoring their lingering gazes before they have a chance to speak—and the moment her own door closes, she collapses onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Her hand still burns. 

That didn't happen. It couldn't have happened.

"Stop it," she whispers to herself, pressing her palms against her visor. "Stop thinking about it."

But she can't. 

She can't stop thinking about it.

Curling in on herself, she attempts to will away the confusing mix of want and fear and longing and yearning and… 

Oh Robo-god. 

Slapping a hand over her mouth in absolute mortification, J’s eyes hollow. 

Oh. Robo. God. 

J. THE Serial Designation J has a crush. Crush es . Plural .

Chapter Text

J, THE Serial Designation J does NOT get crushes. She is a professional. An efficient worker. A...

...A completely hopeless mess who can't stop thinking about three idiots who make her feel things she absolutely should not be feeling.

“Fuuuh-uh-uhuuck," she groans loudly, curling tighter around her pillow. The word feels foreign on her vocoder - But this predicament seems to warrant coarse language.

Hand still tingling where it sparked with Uzi's, her chassis remembers the weight on top of her in the snow while N's gentle laugh echoes in her processor. She wonders what it’d be like in a more…intimate scenario, her mind replacing the cold, frosty ground with soft, cozy sheets–gangly, metal legs straddling her while N and V–

STOP.

But she can't. .

How would that even work? Three people? Is that allowed? Do people DO that?

She's never even been in a normal relationship, let alone... whatever this mess is. 

What if they don't want her? What if they're just being nice? What if they think she's pathetic and awkward and—

J rolls over, staring at the ceiling through her visor. There’s a nagging tug at her ping screen in her  HUD—that tiny, little (1) notification proving to be more distracting than need be. It’s V’s, from the day before. Still unopened. It’s something she’s admittedly been pointedly avoiding. 

Except now, there was a follow-up. J must have missed it while she was working. 

C:\SD-J\system32>cd\incoming\SD-V

>display SD-V_0700HRS.msg

[V]: Morning. You good?

(Seen yesterday) 

— New Messages —

C:\SD-J\system32>cd\incoming\SD-V

>display SD-V_0456HRS.msg

[V]: [DELETED] 

V…never deletes messages. Something twists in her core - guilt? Fear? Both?

She should reply. She wants to reply. But what would she even say?

'Hey V, so, funny story, I may have just complicated everything even more than I already have by developing feelings for you and your…colleagues…? Partners? What the hell are you guys anyway??? 

[J]: Hey

She backspaces immediately. Too casual.

[J]: Good evening. I hope your patrol is proceeding as per standard protocol.

Delete. Too formal.

[J]: I miss you.

Delete delete DELETE.

Pull yourself together! 

Pressing her palms against her visor, she clenches her teeth. When did everything get so messy?

You’re being ridiculous. Just…Be normal.  

…But what even counts as normal anymore? 

[J]: I apologize for my delayed response. Yesterday was... eventful.

J stares at the message for a long moment before hitting send, then immediately regrets it.

Eventful? EVENTFUL ? Could you be MORE vague and suspicious?

Almost on instinct, she closes the chat log. V usually doesn't check her comms during patrol anyway.

...Right?

…

Ugh!!

This is fine. Everything is fine . She just needs to... not think about it. Ever again.

...She's still thinking about it.

…Do they think about her too? Do they lay awake wondering what it would be like? Do they imagine her underneath them, desperate and wanting and—

Maybe... maybe she should...

No. Absolutely not.

But…

[J]: Can we talk? 

Fingers trembling, J laces them in front of her chest as she sends the ping, letting out a soft sigh. 

She stares at her internal messaging system for what feels like hours, cursor blinking mockingly. 

Of course she wasn’t going to answer you, bozo. It’s two o’clock in the morning. She’s probably sleeping two outposts over by now. J’s not stupid, she knows this. But still, that doesn’t override the need to…talk to someone about this before she explodes. 

Maybe she could…

No, that’s stupid.

…He's probably asleep, too. 

C:\SD-J\system32>cd\outgoing\SD-N

>display SD-J_0200HRS.msg

[J]: Hello.

[J]: Are you awake?

The moment she sends it, panic floods through her. What is she DOING? This is completely unprofessional behaviour. She should just delete it. Can she delete it? Why isn't there an unsend option? Who designed this awful—

C:\SD-J\system32>cd\incoming\SD-J

>display SD-N_0200HRS.msg

[N]: Yes! Hi! Can't sleep? :)

The response makes her core skip. Of course, he’s on her almost immediately. Of course he does.

[J]: Nevermind. It's nothing.

[N]: Do you want to talk?

[J]: No. 

[J]: …Maybe.

[J]: I don't know.

[N]: Want to hang out? If you need company?

[J]: That's not necessary.

She buries her face in her pillow again. 

[J]: ...Where would we go?

[N]: The roof is nice this time of night! I think the snow’s stopped ❄️ 

J stares at the message, feeling that strange, fluttery feeling again. Its almost like she’s…excited. 

[J]: Fine. But only because I need fresh air.

[N]: Of course! I’m just in my room. Meet you there in 10? :D

"What am I doing?" J whispers as she sits up, straightening her disheveled pigtails.

This is a terrible idea.

She's already walking to the door.

—

The hallway is silent as she makes her way to the maintenance access ladder, each soft click of her pegs against the metal floor seeming impossibly loud in the darkness. 

Stop acting like this is a big deal. It's just N. Stupid…dorky…cute N. 

The cool night air hits her as she emerges onto the roof of the outpost’s exterior, and she almost instantly spots his silhouette against the starlit sky. He turns at the sound of her approach, and that gentle smile makes her gut twist.

"You actually came," he says softly, sounding pleasantly surprised.

"I..." J's vocoder glitches. "I said I just needed air."

Right. Air. That's definitely why she’s here at 2AM.

At least she has a day off tomorrow. 

N pats the spot beside him, and J hesitates before carefully settling down, maintaining what she hopes is a…socially appropriate distance. 

"Beautiful night," he comments quietly.

J makes a noncommittal noise, desperately trying to ignore how the moonlight catches his profile. How easy it would be to just lean over and-

"Something on your mind?" N asks, breaking into an increasingly dubious train of thought.

"No," she responds automatically, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

He doesn't push, simply content to sit quietly beside her. The silence stretches between them, filled only by the distant hum of the facility's generators. J stares fixedly at the horizon, trying to ignore how... right this feels. 

"I..." J starts, then stops. 

What is she even doing here?

"Hm?" N turns to look at her, that infuriatingly  understanding, stupid expression on his face.

"Nothing. It's stupid." 

Hugging her knees tighter, her tail curls anxiously around her ankles.

"I don't think anything you have to say is stupid," he replies softly, and something in J's chest constricts.

Don't. Don't do this. Don't make her feel these things.

"I should go," she mutters, starting to stand, but N catches her wrist gently.

"J..."

The gentle pressure of N's hand around her wrist freezes her in place. 

"Let go," she mumbles, but there's no real force behind it.

"Stay?" N asks softly. "Please?"

She should leave. She needs to leave. This is dangerous territory and she knows it.

But...

Slowly, reluctantly, J sinks back down beside him. This time, she doesn't maintain that careful distance, their shoulders almost touching.

"I don't..." she starts, then stops, frustrated by her own inability to articulate her words. "Today was..."

"Fun?" N supplies helpfully, and J can hear the smile in his voice.

"Non standard," she corrects stiffly. 

"Is that such a bad thing?"

"I don't know.” J stares at her hands in her lap, acutely aware of how close they are. “I’m not…good at this stuff.” 

"At what?" N prompts gently.

At feeling things. At wanting things. At letting people in.

"At..." J gestures vaguely at the space between them, unable to find the right words. "This."

Her voice drops to barely a whisper. "I don't know how to do... any of this."

"That's okay," he says. "None of us really do."

J's laugh comes out slightly hysterical. "But you all make it look so easy! You a-and V and... and Uzi..."

She clamps her mouth shut, mortified at having admitted there's a 'you all' to consider.

N is quiet for a moment, and J wishes the roof would just cave in and put her out of her misery.

"It's not easy, But maybe... maybe that's okay too?"

His hand finds hers in the darkness, and J's core nearly shorts out. N's fingers are warm against hers, and J tries not to stare.

"I..." she starts, then stops, vocoder catching. "This is highly unprofessional.” 

He chuckles. "Is that really what you're worried about?"

No. Yes? Ugh! She doesn’t know! 

"I don't know what I'm worried about," she admits quietly, the words feeling like they're being torn from her throat. "I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know what any of this means. I don't know if-"

If she wants this. If they want this. If she’s even allowed to want this.

"Earlier I..." she trails off, unable to finish the thought.

"The spark?" N asks. 

"I… I slept with V the other night,” J suddenly blurts out. What the hell was she saying? What the hell was she saying!! “I-I mean the spark too, I just mean—shit..” J smacks the dome of her visor with her palm, dragging her fingers down her face with a long, drawn out groan. “I- I mean I slept slept with her, like we…–”

“Yeah, yeah I got what you meant–I just…Whoa—Uh, okay, that’s a…bit of a bombshell.”

J feels her visor flush hot, mortified at her own rambling. “R-Right.” She sputters, face still burning as she realizes she just tried to explain sex to someone she’s literally done it with before. N chuckles, drawing his knees up to his chest to rest his head against them. 

"Did it scare you?" He prys softly.

"...Yes." The admission feels like failure.

A thumb traces small circles on her palm, and J has to suppress a shiver.

"Me too, sometimes," he confesses. "... It’s a little terrifying, isn't it?"

Risking a glance at him, she’s caught off guard by his honesty. The gentle circles N ghosts along her lovelines send tingles up her arm, making it hard to think straight. She stares at their joined hands.

"You?" she asks, disbelief coloring her tone. "But you're always so…” J grimaces with a vague gesture. “…You.” 

“Trust me, I guess, I’m just better at hiding it. Half the time I have no idea what I'm doing either." He laughs.

"But..." J struggles to reconcile this with her image of him. "You and V seem so natural together. And the way you are with Uzi..."

She trails off, that familiar twist of longing in her core.

"It took time," he says quietly. "And a lot of... moments like this. Talking. Being scared together."

J's cooling fans whir softly in the night air. "I don't do... scared. Or talking. Or..."

Feelings.

"I know," N squeezes her hand. "But maybe you could try?"

"I..." her voice catches. "What if I mess it up?"

The gentle pressure makes it hard to think straight. "What if I'm not..." she trails off frustratedly. "I'm not good at... being gentle. Or kind. Or whatever this is supposed to be."

"Everyone makes mistakes sometimes. That’s just part of life." N hums. 

" I don’t make mistakes," J protests weakly. "I'm... Proficient. And sharp. And..."

"Was coming out here a mistake?" he points out. "Because I thought that was pretty brave of you."

She scoffs. "It's not brave. It's... pathetic."

"J..." The way he says her name makes her core ache. "It's okay to want things."

"Is it?" she whispers, voice small. "Even if what I…want is..."

Complicated? Impossible? All of you?

She can't finish the sentence, but N seems to understand anyway. His thumb stills. 

"Even then," he says, and something in his tone makes J's internal temperature spike. "Especially then."

A long silence stretches between them. 

"I should go," J mumbles, but doesn't move. "It's late."

"Okay," N agrees easily, but he doesn't let go either.

So, fingers intertwined, they sit quietly together, watching the stars wheel overhead—and before she can overthink it, she lets herself slowly, carefully lean against N's side.

She feels him stiffen slightly in surprise, and immediately starts to pull away, mortified at her own boldness. Then, his arm comes up to wrap gently around her shoulders, holding her close.

"Is this okay?" he whispers.

J makes a small noise that might be affirmation, unable to trust her voice. Her face burns, but she allows herself to relax infinitesimally against him, head eventually coming to rest on his shoulder.

This is... nice.

…Difficult, but nice.

A soft purr builds in her chest before she can stop it, and she feels N's quiet chuckle more than hears it.

"You're shaking," he murmurs. 

"I'm not," J protests weakly, even as another tremor runs through her frame. "I just... this is..."

His hand moves to her back, tracing gentle circles between her shoulder blades. The touch makes her systems stutter.

"Scary?" he supplies when she can't finish.

"Overwhelming," 

Her face burns at the admission. Her purr deepens involuntarily as his fingers find a particularly sensitive spot.

"We can stop," 

Instead of responding, J burrows deeper into his coat, pressing against the humming warmth beneath. 

N continues the soothing motions across her back, each stroke allowing her to relax further into the embrace. Then his hand pauses, hovering near the seam of her wing hatch, and J goes very still.

The hydraulics in her back whir softly as she considers. Their wings weren't just weapons - they were extensions of themselves, delicate despite their deadly purpose. Complex networks of sensors and artificial muscle wrapped in titanium, requiring careful maintenance to prevent the organic components from deteriorating. Even now, she can feel the microscopic build-up of grit in the joints. It's been a while since she properly took care of herself. 

Preening is... intimate. Sacred, almost. A display of absolute trust. She remembers those quiet moments with V after particularly brutal hunts, the wordless comfort of careful hands tending to places she couldn't reach herself.

It was never discussed, just a silent ritual of necessity that she’d made violently clear that N didn't deserve such attention. 

She remembers his face - that hurt, resigned look as he'd struggle alone with his maintenance. How his performance would inevitably suffer without proper care, and how J would take it upon herself to "correct" those failures gleefully. 

The same N who came up here at 2AM just because she asked. Who held her hand and didn't laugh at her when she told him her fears.

Why was she so cruel ? 

J hated his gentleness then - the persistent warmth feeling like mockery of everything she'd lost, or everything she couldn't let herself be.

Because gentle things died. Gentle things got hurt. Gentle things got left behind.

Like Tessa.

Now here she is, decades later, letting herself be held by the very drone she'd tormented for that same gentleness, qualities she'd once sneered at now making her chest ache with guilt. 

"J?" 

"M-My left secondary joint has been... sticking. Lately.” 

It's a paper-thin excuse. 

"If you..." J's vocoder catches. She resets it with a click. "Um…”

His fingers above her freeze as N looks down at her. She can’t bring herself to look at his face, but she can practically feel the disbelief in his tone as if it were a palpable force. 

“I—Come again?” 

"Never mind," J mutters quickly, starting to pull away. "Forget I-"

"No, no, w-wait—I-I just... are you…sure?"

Of course he'd question it. Why wouldn’t he?

“I wouldn't ask if I wasn't sure," she mumbles into his coat, face burning. "But if you don't want to-"

"I want to!" N blurts, then seems embarrassed by his own eagerness. "I mean...  I... didn't think you'd ever…“ He chuckles nervously. “I just, wow. I’m honored, J.” 

Her fingers twist anxiously in the fabric of N's coat. "Don't make it weird."

But it is weird, isn't it? After everything she's done to him, how can he still be so... earnest? 

Ever perceptive, N’s hand resumes those gentle circles on her back. "Okay," he says softly. "No weird. Just... maintenance, yeah?”

“…Yeah.” 

Never mind that her core is pulsing erratically, or that her cooling fans are whirring at maximum capacity. This is fine. Everything's fine.

"Can I... um..." N's fingers hover tentatively over her wing hatch release.

J nods stiffly, unable to trust her voice. The soft click of the mechanism disengaging seems impossibly loud in the quiet night air.

An elegant lattice of razor-sharp blades and delicate joints extends outward, metallic feathers catching the starlight. Their lethal edges are still pristine despite constant use, but between the blades, evidence of neglect is visible - patches of oxidation speckling the normally immaculate surface.

N's touch is feather-light as he carefully begins working at a particularly stubborn spot of rust between two blade segments. The gentle scraping sensation sends tingles through her synthetic nerves, and J has to fight back a shiver.

"Sorry," he whispers when she twitches. "Does it hurt?"

"N-No," she manages. "Just... sensitive."

He makes a soft sound of acknowledgment, each careful stroke of his fingers against her wing making her internals flutter.

This was a terrible idea.

This was the best idea.

A deep, rumbling purr reverberates through J's chassis, her twitching and flexing involuntarily as she presses into his hands like a touch-starved creature.

"When's the last time someone did this for you?" N asks, plucking at a particularly stubborn patch of corrosion.

"Mmmh..." 

Her processors feel pleasantly fuzzy. "Long time, now.” 

She trails off with a mechanical chirp as his fingers find a sensitive spot between blade segments, her tail lashing behind her. The sound startles them both.

"S-Sorry," J stammers, mortified. 

"It's okay," He hums. "You're allowed to feel good."

His gentle ministrations continue, and J gradually loses herself. She melts into his lap, trilling and clicking as her head nuzzles into the crook of his neck, breath warm against cold, metal plating.

Without really thinking about it, her hands start roaming across his back, seeking out the contours of his own hatches. N stiffens.

"I—Oh, um, you don't have to-"

"Let me," J murmurs against his neck. "Please?"

There's a moment of hesitation before N nods, and the soft click of his wing release echoes in the night air. The appendage unfolds gracefully, and J is struck by how... pristine it looks. The steel gleams in the starlight, joints well-oiled and moving smoothly.

"You've been taking care of yourself," she observes, a hint of surprise in her tone.

"Ah, well..." N fidgets slightly. "Uzi helps. And V, sometimes..."

Something twists in J's core at that. Of course they take care of him. 

But he's here now, letting her touch him despite everything. 

Her fingers trace reverently along the edge of one blade, marveling at how different this feels from their hunting days. 

My, how things have changed. 

The night stretches on as they tend to each other, a delicate dance of gentle brushes. She can’t help the warbles echoing from her voicebox , nuzzling against N's chassis as her hands work carefully along his wings.

N responds in kind, his own soft whirs and clicks mixing with hers in the quiet air. It's almost musical - the way their systems harmonize, the gentle scraping of metal on metal as they preen each other. 

J finds herself mirroring his movements, learning the proper pressure to apply, which spots make him shiver. 

"Is this... okay?" she asks uncertainly. 

"Mmmore than okay," N purrs. His head drops forward to rest against her shoulder. 

It felt so... right. Natural. Like coming home to a place she didn't know she was missing.

"J..." he breathes, voice catching.

The way he says her name makes her shiver.

She notices the subtle shift in their positions - how they've drawn closer, movements becoming less clinical and more... affectionate. Fingers have left wings to trace delicate patterns across his chassis  as he does the same to hers, A soft keen escapes her vocoder as N nuzzles deeper into her neck, and she finds herself tilting her head to give him better access. 

This is... different. 

It's intimate. Primal. A call of flesh. 

J can feel a soft, unmistakably possessive trill against her throat, slotting his faceplate into the crook of her shoulder and holding her tightly. 

This is fine. This is totally fine. She's just... snuggling. With N . In the middle of the night. On the rooftop under the stars. 

Completely normal colleague behavior.

Completely…normal...

N's hum has become a soothing lullaby, and she finds herself going slack with a drowsy noise.

"J?" His voice sounds far away. "You're falling asleep."

"Mm'not," she mumbles unconvincingly, even as her head lolls against his shoulder.

He giggles quietly, the sound reverberating on her audials. "Come on. Let's get you inside before you power down out here."

She makes a noise of protest as he shifts, but allows him to help her to her feet. Her legs feel unusually unsteady, and she finds herself leaning heavily against his side as they make their way back to the access hatch.

Without discussion, their hands find each other again. J's fingers slot perfectly between his, and she tries not to think too hard about how natural it feels.

The walk back to their quarters is silent save for the soft whir of their cooling fans and the metallic click of their feet against the floor. 

At her door, she hesitates.

His eyes seem to glow softly as J turns to face him, and something in her chest constricts at how sweetly he’s looking at her.

“Hey,” N starts, taking her other hand in his own and holding them at their sides. “You should talk to ‘Zi tomorrow.” 

It’s like she’s reliving that spark of their touch at the mention of her name, using everything in her power not to physically recoil. "I...I wouldn't know what to say. She's so..."

Intimidating. Why???

"Not…like…me," J mumbles, staring at their joined hands. 

N squeezes her hands with a soft smile. "You'd be surprised.”  A pause. “She asked about you, you know. After you left."

J's internal temperature spikes, a burst of yellow coloring her visor display. "She... what? Why would she-" Her vocoder glitches and she has to reset it. "That's absurd. She hates me."

"I don't think that's true," N replies gently, thumbs tracing circles on her palms in a way that makes her cooling fans stutter. "I think maybe you two are more alike than you realize."

She’s not running on enough oil or sleep to process any of this properly. J coughs. “I suppose I could…circle back to that…later. Maybe.” 

He lets out an amused huff. “Okay.” 

Gesturing behind her to the door, she clears her throat again awkwardly. “I should, um,” 

"Right! Of course." N releases one of her hands, but keeps hold of the other. "Goodnight, J."

Still connected, neither of them make a move to let go. 

"N..." she starts, not sure what she's going to say.

The taller disassembler waits patiently, that infuriatingly gentle smile still on his face. 

Kiss him. Just kiss him. 

Don't you dare.

"Thank you," she blurts instead. "For... tonight. The..." She gestures vaguely with her free hand. "Thing."

"Anytime," he replies, and she knows he means it.

The sincerity in his voice makes something in her chest ache. Without thinking, she takes a half step closer, drawn by some magnetic pull she doesn't understand.

N's cooling fans kick up a notch, but he doesn't move away.

Just do it, you idiot. 

"Goodnight," she whispers, quickly pressing her faceplate to his cheek in what could barely be called a kiss before practically diving through her door and slamming it shut.

—

Alone in her darkened room, J presses her fingers to her lips. Her core is practically vibrating, cooling fans working overtime as she bounces slightly on her pegs.

Oh robo-god oh robo-god oh robo-god she can’t believe she just—

A giddy squeak escapes her before she can stop it, and she claps her hands over her mouth, mortified yet unable to stop grinning. She spins in a small circle, tail lashing excitedly behind her.

She kissed him. She kissed him AGAIN. 

And it felt...

Amazing.

Terrible.

Perfect.

J flops face-first onto her bed, burying her burning face in her pillow as she kicks her feet in the air. She should be planning her immediate resignation and subsequent exile to the furthest reaches of space. Instead, she lets out another stupid laugh. 

Oh robo-god.  she thinks giddily. She’s in so much trouble.

For once, she doesn't mind at all.

Chapter Text

<Automatic Timer=Active 07:00h. Rise and grind!> 

J lies tangled in her sheets, a rare smile playing across her faceplate–and for once, she doesn't immediately jump to attention.

C:\SD-J\system32>cd\incoming\SD-N

>display SD-N_0742HRS.msg

[N]: Good morning! :) Hope you slept well! 

[N]: Thank you for trusting me last night. It meant a lot.

The message pertaining to the…events…of last night sits in her HUD like a gentle reminder that she still hadn’t gone insane just yet.

…Yet. 

She really should get up—but her body, like the dirty traitor it’s been as of late—decides it's simply content to hug her pillow against her chest, tail curling in soft arcs as she recollects all the ways N’s tender hands had touched her. 

Gripping her pillow tighter, she lets out a small, embarrassingly happy chirp, the feeling of butterflies bubbling up from the pit of her tanks threatening to spill from her mouth as she squirms in place. It’s a strange sensation, one that she almost exclusively experienced when she was…was in…

…

…Right. 

Those fluttery feelings suddenly feel much more like nausea as the last word of her sentence hangs in an ”L” shape on her tongue, motherboard still not quite willing to squeeze it out of her voice box. 

We’re…not going to go there right now. 

Her alarm beeps again, more insistent this time, and it effectively snaps J out of her stupor—though it's not long yet she’s placated by the noise that she’s pulled right back in by yet another unopened… less pleasant communication—This time from V.

C:\SD-J\system32>cd\outgoing\SD-V

>display SD-J_0715HRS.msg

[J]: Can we talk? 

(Seen 4hrs ago) 

— New Messages —

C:\SD-J\system32>cd\incoming\SD-V

>display SD-V_720HRS.msg

[V]: K.

She can practically feel the frost emanating from the terse response, and J’s gut twists with guilt. Of course V's upset - J practically threw herself at her, then effectively ghosted her for days. 

J wants to explain herself, but what would she even say? 'I’m really sorry I used you for comfort then panicked and ignored you to go cuddle up and preen with the guy who I physically and emotionally abused for twenty some odd years. Also I might have feelings for you. And him. And his girlfriend. Your girlfriend?

Yeah, yeah that would go over well.

[J]: When are you back?

The reply comes faster than expected, making her jump.

[V]: Late. Don't wait up. Talk tomorrow. 

With a frustrated noise, J flops onto her back, staring at the ceiling. 

[J]: Okay.

It's pathetic, but it's all she can manage right now. J’s gaze hovers within her display for a few moments before finally hitting send, immediately closing the chat window and burying her face in her hands.

Tomorrow. They'll talk tomorrow. 

It can’t come soon enough - and yet she dreads it with every fiber of her being.

With a sigh, J drags her fingers down her visor, letting her arms flop back down to her sides to unconsciously trace the patterning along her thighs, hoping that if she closes her eyes she can imagine hands other than her own following the motion.

A mumbled whine escapes her as she arches slightly, one hand sliding lower while the other grips her sheets. A little alone time never killed anybody, right? Maybe if she just…

Digits just tease along the seams of the plating just above the apex of her thighs when a sudden ping from N nearly sends her tumbling off the bed with an undignified squeak.

C:\SD-J\system32>cd\incoming\SD-N

>display SD-N_0742HRS.msg

[N]: And…no pressure, but I do think you should talk to Uzi 

Oh, for the love of…

Trying to will away the charge building in her systems, J ignores the message, determined to finish what she started.

Her hand shifts again, and she's just starting to get back into rhythm when—

[N]: I think it would mean a lot to her.  She's alone in the living room right now... just saying! ;)

Ugh!! Since when was it so hard to get off in peace around here!!! 

[J]: I’m busy. 

[N]: It’s the weekend…?

J’s face flushes as she yanks away from herself as if she’d been burned. 

[J]: Are you trying to set me up or something? 

[N]: Maybe? :3

[N]: Is it working? XD

[J]: This is entirely out of regulations. 

[N]: That's not a no...

Groaning, J buries her face in her hands. She can practically hear N's cheerful voice reverberating through the text.

Just... talk to her. How hard can it be?

Very . She supplies herself unhelpfully. Extremely hard.

With an exasperated noise, J swings her legs over the side of the bed. 

This is fine. She's just going to have a…normal conversation with Uzi. While sexually frustrated. And emotionally compromised.

What could possibly go wrong?

Pacing her room, J tries to work up the courage to actually go out there. Her chronometer tells her she's been at this for exactly 15 minutes and 43 seconds.

This is pathetic. You're acting like some kind of…lovesick highschooler. 

"Shut up," she mutters to herself. J’s just... maintaining amicable relations with a colleague. Right. Yeah. 

By having a gay panic in your bedroom?

She is NOT having a gay panic!  

A hand clamps over her mouth as if Uzi might have heard her thoughts through the wall.

You know what? Fine. Fine! 

She’ll go. J will just go out there and—

…And what? Confess her feelings? Pass out from overheating?

She’s stalling. 

BLUH!!!

Taking one final deep breath, J forces herself to walk to the door. She can do this. She’s a disassembly drone for robo-christ’s sake!!

Surely can absolutely handle one…awkward conversation. Couldn’t she?

Maybe after she reorganizes her entire filing system.

For the twelfth time this week.

Just do it, you coward.

With one final adjustment of her tie, J stumbles out into the hallway. Each click of her pegs against the floor feels impossibly loud as she approaches the living room.

You could still turn back , her thoughts suggest. Make up some excuse about urgent paperwork. Or…Something. 

She asked about you.

The notion makes her core flutter traitorously as she reaches the entryway. 

—

Uzi is sprawled across the couch, one leg dangling over the armrest as she flips through something on her tablet.

She looks... comfortable. Relaxed. Beautiful.

J immediately wants to leave. 

Just say something!

"I..." J's vocoder crackles with static, and she has to reset it. "Good morning."

She looks up. "Oh. Hey."

It's followed by a very awkward, very heavy silence. 

"So..." they both start at the same time, then stop.

"You first," 

"I... wanted to..." J fidgets with her tie. "... about yesterday..."

Very smooth, Serial Designation J. You are the pinnacle of sophisticated articulation. 

Fidgeting anxiously as she struggles to find the right words, J’s tail twitches behind her as Uzi watches her with an unreadable expression.

“You wanna sit down?” She asks with a cocked brow, seemingly painfully aware of the fact that J seems to look like she’s about to pass out. 

No. Yes. Maybe? 

Against her better judgment, J's legs move of their own accord, carrying her to the couch. She perches on the edge like she's ready to bolt at any moment, which, honestly, she is.

This is fine. Everything's fine. Perfectly normal.

"I wanted, um..." she tries again, then huffs in frustration. "That is, regarding our... previous interaction..."

Just spit it out!

The memory of Uzi's weight on top of her floods her processors. ”I…”

Uzi shoots her a strange look, leering just slightly away from her as she makes a circling motion with her wrist to continue. J can’t stop thinking about the way her core had pulsed, how right it had felt...she wants to scream, she thinks. 

No, Nope. Ceasefire. Abort. Retreat. Scorched earth protocol in progress.

"A-actually, would…you… consider… participating in a… later discussion about this?" J squeaks, her voice rising in pitch with each word. "for... further clarification of... circumstances.”

A pause. 

“Tonight. With…with me.” 

She’s surprised her motherboard hasn’t melted to the inside of her skull yet. 

"I..." Uzi sits up slowly, more confused than anything. "Wanna try that again in English?” 

“Would you…like…to go to…Uh,”  

J swallows hard, desperately attempting to come up with some excuse to wrangle herself out of the situation she’s backed herself up into. 

“Dinner. Or something. Together. Later. ” 

“Like a date?” 

She realizes very quickly that her cordial attempt at procrastination could be blatantly interpreted as a courtship proposal. 

"It's not a date!" She squeaks, then immediately backtracks.

"I just thought we could... reconvene... In a neutral setting. With... food present. If you prefer.”

Stop talking. You're making it worse.

"So... not a date?"

"Absolutely not!" J adjusts her tie frantically. "Just two colleagues... engaging in... standard social protocols!"

"With dinner."

"Yes!"

"Together."

"Correct!"

"Alone?"

J feels like she’s about to short circuit. 

"I... that is... if that would be... acceptable?"

Silence booms loudly in her inputs. This was a mistake— she can practically hear the spout of mocking laughter she’s subjected herself to already. 

Though strangely enough, as she resists the urge to physically recoil, she hears none. 

"Sure."

"I... what?" 

"I said sure, or whatever…" Uzi repeats. J stalls completely. She hadn't actually expected to get this far…

Sliding herself off the couch, she can make out a faint purple flush dotting across her visor, and she suddenly seems a little more…sheepish? Than she expected?

"I promised my folks I’d go visit them today but uh, I have time later this evening if you wanna go somewhere.”

Blinking, J gives Uzi what she can only imagine is the dumbest look she’s ever mustered. 

“You like, know where I live and stuff, if you can pick me up around eight?"

Stunned silence fills the air, a distinct warmth spreading through J’s chassis.

"I... yes. Eight. That's...Good."

What has she gotten herself into?

–

Standing at Uzi's door, J fidgets anxiously as her hand hovers inches from the surface. Through the metal, muffled voices drift outward - familiar tones of conversation she can't quite make out.

Taking a steadying breath, her knuckles finally make contact.

It’s silent for a moment as the voices still. She can hear Uzi’s familiar, casual drawl, a shuffle of footsteps, and another lapse of quiet that spans far too long for her liking. 

A strange purple sigil materializes in front of her, making her jolt back in surprise. It’s the same one she's seen Uzi use. It rotates slowly before picking up in speed, and the door slides open with a soft hiss.

Rather than Uzi's face–which she was expecting, she’s greeted by a small biomechanical form. A single optic stares up at J from beneath layers of pulsing flesh, supported by three sharp, crab-like appendages. 

Though they've crossed paths before, interactions have been…minimal at best, and not entirely pleasant. 

“You have got to be kidding me.” Nori mutters, her voice dripping with disdain as her daughter stands behind her, hand still extended as if she was the one intending to get the door. She drops her arm instead to rub the side of her shoulder with a lopsided, smile.

 "Not this one too..."

J bristles. How dare this... this glorified security camera pass judgment on her ? She draws herself up to her full height. "I am here on strictly professional business," She announces. "To discuss... work-related matters."

"Work-related matters," Nori echoes flatly, her single optic narrowing. "At eight PM. On a Saturday."

Behind her, Uzi looks like she wants to phase through the floor, her visor displaying a mix of mortification and panic as she makes frantic "stop talking" gestures.

"Yes. Precisely." J's tail twitches irritably. "As a general manager and site supervisor, I frequently conduct... after-hours consultations."

"After-hours consultations," Nori repeats again, somehow making each syllable drip with skepticism.

"Mom, please..." Uzi groans, covering her face with both hands.

"I simply wish to review some... construction protocols," J continues, feeling the metaphorical dirt of the hole she’s digging herself into surrounding her. "Over... sustenance."

"Over sustenance," 

"Would you STOP just repeating everything I say?!" J snaps, then immediately regrets losing her cool as Uzi makes a sound like a dying computer fan.

Why is it suddenly so warm in this hallway? The tension could probably power half the outpost's grid. She tries to salvage what remains of her dignity as her tail continues to lash. 

"I merely intended to—“ she starts, only to be cut off by Khan's voice calling from somewhere inside.

"Who's at the door?"

"Oh, just your daughter's “ supervisor” here for some work-related matters ," Nori calls back.

J catches sight of Uzi mouthing "I'm so sorry" from behind her mother's hovering form. The younger drone looks absolutely mortified. 

"I can... return at a more convenient time," 

Taking a step backward, J is entirely ready to retreat and possibly spend the next few hours screaming into her pillow.

"No!" Uzi blurts out, then immediately looks like she regrets the outburst. "I mean... I'm ready to go. For the... work thing."

She edges past her mother, who somehow manages to radiate disapproval despite being quite literally just an eye on legs. J feels her core pulse quicken as Uzi approaches, noting she's wearing something slightly more... formal? A black collared dress, combat boots that look like they've…attempted to have been polished but given up halfway through on, and her usual hoodie tied around her waist. 

Overall…endearingly mismatched - like she googled "how to dress fancy" and then filtered it through her own aesthetic.

"We'll be back later!" Uzi calls over her shoulder, practically dragging J away from the doorway.

"Remember your curfew!" Nori shouts after them. "And keep those nanites to yourself, Murder Drone!"

J has never been more grateful for her ability to speed-walk on these useless pegs in her life.

–

Polished metal and soft lighting reflect off pristine surfaces as J fidgets with her tie for the hundredth time, Standing in the reception area of "Le Courant D'air". 

This establishment, cobbled together from salvaged parts of a corporate break room and whatever fancy décor could be scavenged, somehow maintains an air of sophistication despite its makeshift nature.

"So... nice…weather…we're having?" The words tumble out before she can stop them, making her internally cringe at defaulting to such basic small talk.

Standing beside her, Uzi shifts from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable.  "It's... underground. The weather is always the same."

Condensation beads on J's palms, making her wonder which engineer thought adding sweat glands was a necessary function for murder robots. Perhaps a strongly worded letter to JCJenson's design department would be in order–if they weren't all currently dead.

"Right. Of course." Her vocoder crackles slightly. "I just meant... the ambient temperature is... nice?"

"This place is really..." Uzi trails off, eyes wide as she takes in the makeshift chandeliers crafted from repurposed industrial lighting. "Fancy. Like, really fancy. I was thinking more like... you know... somewhere that serves oil in paper cups?"

"I thought... just…given the occasion..." J pauses, realizing she's not entirely sure what the occasion actually is. "A nicer restaurant seemed more... appropriate?"

Internally cursing her malfunctioning cooling systems, J tries to discreetly wipe her palms on her suit. These new physical responses are becoming increasingly inconvenient. Maybe there's a firmware update she missed somewhere…

Mercifully, the maitre'd approaches before J can spontaneously combust from embarrassment. Though his polite smile tightens slightly at Uzi's appearance. 

"Do you have a reservation?" he intones with an accent that's definitely being run through some kind of voice modulator.

J clears her throat, squaring her shoulders. “Yes.” 

With a slight gulp, she stares down at Uzi, internally wincing as she speaks again. “Doorman…for 8:30.” 

She pointedly ignores the horrified look Uzi shoots her following. What was she supposed to say?! They wanted a last name. Does she look like she has a last name?!

“I see.” He replies, adjusting the poorly pasted moustache on his faceplate. “Right this way.”

Several Worker Drones at nearby tables cast disapproving glances their way, whispering behind raised hands. Through her thermal imaging, J detects a number of elevated temperatures. 

Though reformed and… relatively …welcome, it’s easy to stick out like a sore thumb when you’re one of three unique near 6 foot disassembly units among worker drones that only come up to your waist. 

Workers that you namely hunted and killed for almost two decades. It’s no doubt there still may be some…bad blood. 

Their table sits tucked away in a corner - whether by design or mercy, she isn't sure.

Muffled snickering draws J's attention to a group of better-dressed units, their derision poorly hidden by expensive menus. Fighting back the urge to bare her fangs, her tail twitches. These pompous assembly-line rejects had some nerve.

Seating herself with practiced grace, J folds her hands in her lap as she adjusts herself until her spine is poised and her shoulders are straight. She has to keep herself from wincing as Uzi pulls out her chair with a much less dignified screech, and clambering up into her spot. She shoots her a look that she can only hope screams ‘ get your elbows off the table’ –the message of which unfortunately not being received when Uzi offers back an expression of confused bemusement. 

The waiter turns around once they’re in place, producing a datapad. "May I start you with-"

"Do we get free breadsticks?" Uzi blurts out. 

J freezes. 

"The... ah... B.R.E.A.D. service is part of our premium dining experience," their waiter responds with carefully measured politeness. "Would you like to add an order to your table?"

“Yes, that would be lovely, thank you.” J tumbles out, her voice high and clipped. 

Making a sound like a stalling engine, she watches helplessly as the waiter retreats. 

"Get down here," she hisses, leaning across the table. "What the hell was that?!."

Purple gradient eyes roll dramatically as Uzi slouches forward. "What? I was just asking about bread!"

"Basic Recreational Energy Absorption Discs are not complimentary at establishments of this caliber," J whispers furiously. "This isn't some cheap oil bar!"

"Well excuse me for not knowing about your fancy robot crackers," Uzi shoots back in a harsh whisper. "Nobody told me I had to pay for bread! That's literally the worst thing I've ever heard!"

"Maybe if you'd waited to see the menu before making assumptions-"

“Ahem.” 

They both look up as a small basket is placed on their table, filled with an outstandingly meager amount of food, an obvious emphasis on presentation rather than quantity. “Any drinks before we order?”

Heat rises in J's circuits as she quickly scans the menu, desperate to salvage some dignity from this rapidly deteriorating situation. "I'll have a Negroni, please. Light on the coolant."

"And for the young lady?" Their waiter's tone carries a hint of skepticism as his gaze falls on Uzi.

Bristling visibly, Uzi straightens in her chair. "Anything from the rail is fine, surprise me."

"Your manufacturing date, please?"

"Seriously?" Her eyes narrow dangerously. "I literally saved this entire planet from-"

Swift pressure under the table as J's foot connects with Uzi's shin, and cuts off the impending tirade.

Sharp pain explodes in J's own shin as Uzi kicks her back. 

Muttering under her breath, she roots around in her pocket, slamming down a card with her specs. There’s an awkward photo of her from early highschool attached to it, frowning and mussed. 

"3054," Uzi grumbles, rubbing her leg while shooting daggers at J with her eyes. "Happy?"

"Very good." He muses, tapping away at his screen. “Will that be all?”

“That’s everything, thank you.” J says through gritted teeth.

"As you wish." Disapproval radiates from every servo as their waiter glides away.

"Can you believe that guy?" Uzi hisses once he's out of earshot, rubbing her shin. "I'm not some untrained ne–”

Massaging her own newly dented plating, J fixes her companion with a stern look. " Maybe if you didn't immediately escalate to violence–”

"You kicked me first!"

"To keep you from causing a scene ," J whispers harshly, noting the sideways glances from nearby tables. 

Uzi scowls, slowly reaching over to snatch a piece of bread, and J watches her aggressively tear into it, crumbs scattering across the pristine tablecloth. 

"These aren't even good," comes the mumbled voice through a mouthful of expensive synthetic carbohydrates. ""Tastes like someone dipped cardboard in antifreeze."

Fingers clench beneath the table as more crumbs rain down. 

Suppressing the urge to reach across and wipe the corner of Uzi's mouth, which now sports a smear of crystallized residue, J instead straightens her already impeccable posture. "If you took smaller bites–"

"Maybe if they made them actually taste good–"

"The sophisticated palette requires–"

" Sophisticated palette my–”

Both freeze as another wait staff passes by. 

Shoulders stiffening, J raises her menu like a shield and after a moment, Uzi mirrors her, creating a barrier between them.

Blessed silence descends, broken only by the soft classical music and occasional clink of cutlery from other diners. 

Through gaps in their menu fortifications, crimson liquid sloshes in elegant glasses as their server returns. Setting down J's drink, he presents Uzi with something alarmingly blue and fizzing.

"One nitrogen martini." 

Lowering her menu slightly, J watches Uzi eye the concoction with obvious suspicion, and after a moment of hesitation, she lights up as she takes a cautious sip.

"This is actually pretty good!" Enthusiasm makes her voice carry across nearby tables.

Reflexively shushing her companion, J takes a measured sip of her own drink, savoring the bitter notes. 

Between them, the waiter's stylus hovers expectantly over his pad. "Are we ready to order?"

"I'll have the premium grade synthetic protein, medium done. Hold the dipsticks, I’m watching my figure." J states, folding her menu. Uzi squints, her face screwing up in confusion. 

He scrawls down the order with an equally vexed look.

"Uh... what's the least expensive thing that won't make me look cheap?"

Their waiter's expression somehow becomes even more judgmental, and J wishes someone would swoop in and incinerate her on the spot.

"Perhaps madame would enjoy our chef’s special? A refined blend of-"

"Yeah sure, whatever that is. Sounds great." The menu snaps shut.

Fighting back a sigh, J forces her voice into something approaching pleasant conversation as they’re left alone again. 

"So... how’s…school?"

”…Really?" Uzi's deadpan stare could probably bore through reinforced steel.

"I'm just…expressing interest in your academic pursuits," comes the slightly strained response. “A good GPA looks excellent on a resume.” 

Rolling her eyes dramatically, Uzi slumps back in her chair. "Oh my Robo-God, can we like, not talk about school right now? My dad’s already been hounding me about University.”

The clear dismissal of her conversation starter is a…little discouraging, but t-thats okay! She can still clutch this. Maybe discussing quarterly performance reviews might be more engaging? 

"Well, the current economic climate-"

“J.”  Purple eyes narrow dangerously. "We're on a... whatever this is, and you want to talk about economics ?"

Business metrics usually provided such reliable discussion fodder during corporate meetings, why was she so bad at this all of a sudden?!

"I just thought-"

"How about..." Uzi takes another aggressive sip of her drink, then seems to soften slightly. 

"I don’t know, how’s your work going? You seem pretty into that stuff I guess.” 

Immediately perking up, J's tail gives an involuntary swish of excitement. 

"O-Oh! Well, actually, we've implemented several fascinating new efficiency protocols in the warehouse. Just yesterday I reorganized and laminated about fifteen years worth of industrial standards paperwork alphabetically. Jill even got those little colored tabs, a-and…” 

Gesturing enthusiastically with her drink, she continues. "And don't even get me started on the improvements to the loading dock schedule. The new automated routing algorithms have practically eliminated queue bottlenecks during peak hours!"

J barely notices how she too has relaxed, hands animated as she describes the intricacies of supply chain optimization. "The potential applications for machine learning in logistics are simply remarkable. Why, just this Thursday I..."

Thursday. Thursday morning.

“I…”

Mid-sentence, memories of Wednesday night flood back unbidden–heated touches, desperate kisses, the taste of antifreeze on V's lips. Temperature readings spike dangerously high as she’s assaulted by images of strong hands pinning her down, soft nips trailing down her neck. 

J chokes on her drink, burning liquid unceremoniously spilling across her front and over the tablecloth. 

"Whoa, you good?"

Through watering eyes, blurry vision reveals several patrons turning to stare. Desperately dabbing at spreading stains with a napkin, she hastily tucks the provided handcloth into the collar of her shirt to cover the wetness on her blazer.

"I'm... fine," comes the strained response. "Just went down the wrong pipe."

Reaching across the table, small hands pass over additional napkins. "You sure? Your face is doing that glitchy thing again.”

"Really, perfectly fine," emerges as a squeaky whisper. "Minor technical difficulties."

"Uh-huh." Her eyes narrow skeptically. 

More dabbing ensues, though the stains have long since set. 

Picking at an invisible lint on her sleeve, J avoids Uzi's scrutinizing gaze. If she focuses hard enough on the floor, she can probably will away the embarrassment. 

"Everything's under control."

"Really? Because you've been weird all week. Like, weirder than usual."

"Nothing's weird," J mutters. "I’m perfectly normal.” 

"Right, because normal people have meltdowns over logistics. Come on, what's actually going on?"

"It's... complicated."

"Try me."

Her fingers twist the napkin in her lap into increasingly elaborate shapes. "I may have... that is to say..." She coughs again, attempting to dislodge the remaining burn of antifreeze from her throat. 

"V and I... had an… encounter. Of an... intimate…nature."

Uzi’s eyes widen. "Oh. Oh. "

"And then I... might have ignored her messages afterward because I didn't know how to process what happened and now everything's awkward and complicated and I've made a complete mess of things and she probably hates me now." The words tumble out in a rushed whisper.

"You what ?"

Plates clatter as their waiter nearly materializes behind them. "Premium grade synthetic protein, medium done, no dipsticks. And the chef's special."

J buries her face in her hands as ceramic clinks against the table. Steam rises from artfully arranged portions that neither of them acknowledge.

"Will that be all?"

Muffled behind her fingers, J manages a weak "Yes, thank you."

Once polished shoes click away, Uzi's incredulous whisper cuts through the ambient music. "You hooked up with V and then ghosted her?"

"That's... an oversimplification of a complex situation involving multiple factors-"

"Oh my god, you totally did."

She groans lowly. "I-I panicked. Everything felt so intense and I didn't know how to handle it and then N and I–"

"Wait, what happened with N?"

"I–," she manages weakly, stabbing at her untouched dinner. “Just...General maintenance. Nothing crazy.” 

"Maintenance?"

Mechanical fingers twist anxiously in J's lap. "Of a... personal nature. Involving... appendages."

"Personal…appendage…maintenance?" Uzi makes a face. "You do realize how weird that sounds, right?"

"W-Well...Preening is..." She trails off, scraping her fork against the plate. This is definitely more on the “well done” side of the spectrum. She’ll have to send it back. 

"Oh yeah, N mentioned something about that. Like…cleaning and stuff?" 

"It's... different, wings are... sensitive. There's programming involved–deep coding that makes it essential.” 

Shifting uncomfortably in her chair, she traces the rim of her glass. "Disassembly units are–... were designed to operate in squads, with strict hierarchies. Without regular social maintenance protocols, our systems would deteriorate. No lone unit could survive for long."

Memories of those early days drift into her mind. The way they'd been forced to rely on each other, how the company–no, how Cyn –had woven dependency into their blood. 

“It was a perfect system, really. The... intimacy creates bonds between squadmates. Makes us more effective hunters." Bitter acknowledgment tightens J's jaw. "And you can't run away if you'll just end up starving."

Understanding dawns on her face. "So that's why you three always stuck together, even when you were trying to kill each other."

"And with N..." Uzi trails off. 

J feels a pang of guilt wash over her as she considers the implications of her actions. How neglected he had appeared when he first arrived at the outpost, and she can't help but wonder if Uzi had noticed the signs of her past…mistreatment.

"I...I may have overstepped certain boundaries," she begins hesitantly. "It wasn't my intention to–”

Before she can finish her awkward attempt at reconciliation, Uzi cuts her off with a dismissive wave of her hand. "It's fine, really. V and him do it all the time. I always just thought they were weirdos."

Her tail twitches nervously behind her. 

"Tried it once, but honestly the way you guys do it is way too uncomfortable for my uh.” She scrunches her brows. “Meaty. Bits. Ugh, that sounds really gross. Why did I say it like that.” 

J’s next words emerge strangled and quiet.

"And I might have... kissed him."

Uzi's eyebrows shoot up. "You kissed him?"

" Please keep your voice down ," J hisses. "It was a… brief …momentary lapse of judgement. O-on the cheek.” 

"And then you freaked out and ran away?"

"I did not freak out .”

"So let me get this straight - you hooked up with V, ghosted her, then turned around and got all handsy with N?" 

Silverware clinks against china as J's hands tremble slightly. "When you put it that way, it sounds a little…messy.” 

"Yeah, that's one word for it."

There’s a small hint of disappointment emanating from Uzi’s tone, and the realization dawns that perhaps she had been expecting a conversation along some more... personal lines. After all, the spark situation had gone…entirely unaddressed. 

It could take an idiot to clue in on why Uzi might feel left out. While she, V, and N have a…history, things with Uzi are different–a blank slate unburdened by the years of trauma they endured together.

"I... suppose there are other matters we could discuss as well regarding…complicated dynamics." J ventures hesitantly, pursing her lips as she attempts to broach the subject of their own recent encounter. 

"About the other day, when we were... outside..."

Uzi's eyes widen slightly, a faint purple tinge coloring her display. "Oh, uh, yeah... that was..."

"Unexpected," J finishes. 

Before either can elaborate, the waiter appears again at their table. "Is everything to your satisfaction?"

Seizing the opportunity to change the subject, J gestures at her plate. "Actually, this is rather cold and overdone. I specifically requested medium."

A flicker of annoyance crosses his face. "Miss, I brought these dishes out piping hot, have you considered perchance that you might have–”

"Ap-bap-bap," She interrupts quickly, stiffening. “What happened to the customer is always right? ”

“I can assure you our food is of the utmost quality and–”

“Do I need to ask for your supervisor?” 

Immediately, the waiter's demeanor shifts. "My apologies. I'll have this replaced right away."

As he whisks away the offending plate, J turns back to Uzi. 

“Where were we, I–”

 She meets her eyes, caught off guard with the way she’s looking at her. It’s this…strange sort of mix between amusement and...endearment? 

"You’re such a Karen," Uzi chuckles. 

 "I-I am not a Karen," she sputters back indignantly. "I simply have standards for customer service."

"Sure, whatever you say."

An awkward silence follows. J fiddles with her hands, unsure of where to put them now that there isn’t a plate in front of her. “A-Anyways, about…that… thing ." 

"Yeah?" Uzi prompts, her own discomfort evident in the way she avoids eye contact.

"The... spark. It was...surprising."

"I-I mean, yeah," Uzi agrees quickly. "Probably like…just static or something though, right?"

Latching onto this explanation, J nods vigorously. "Yes, of course. Static electricity. That makes perfect sense."

Another lapse of quiet. 

"We could, uh, test it. You know, to be sure."

Before J can respond, Uzi extends her hand across the table. Hesitantly, J reaches out, their fingers barely brushing. The moment they touch, that familiar jolt of electricity courses through them both.

Quickly pulling their hands away, they stare at each other dumbfoundedly. The air between them suddenly feeling much more…charged, literally. J adjusts her damp tie while purple eyes dart nervously around the room. 

Underneath the table, J becomes acutely aware of a slight pressure against her foot. Her sensors register the faint warmth emanating from Uzi's proximity, causing her internal temperature to rise by a fraction of a degree. Pretending not to notice, she shifts slightly in her seat, letting her ankle brush against Uzi's calf in the process.

Another small jolt seems to pass between them, though neither acknowledges it verbally.

"So..." Uzi finally breaks the silence. "Not…static."

“I suppose this... complicates things further," J manages to say. 

A nervous chuckle escapes Uzi's lips. "As if they weren't enough already, right?"

Her motion sensors detect movement approaching their table once more, and J looks up to see the waiter returning with her reheated meal. He sets the plate down in front of her with a strained smile.

"Here you are. Premium grade synthetic protein, medium done , no dipsticks. Is there anything else I can do for you?" His tone carries a hint of exasperation that J chooses to ignore.

She glances briefly at the steaming plate, then back up. "Yes, actually. Two to-go containers, and the bill, if you please.”

His smile falters for a moment, eyes darting between J and Uzi, then to their barely-touched meals. He visibly composes himself–very clearly biting back a less-than-professional response. 

"Of course," he says. "I'll bring those right out for you."

As he turns to leave, J catches sight of his clenched fists. So much for boasting patient and respectable service. Whatever. 

J insists on paying for the meal, waving off Uzi's half-hearted protests. She hands over her company credit card with a flourish, ignoring the waiter's barely concealed eye roll–and as they pack away their untouched dinners into the provided containers, J can't help but feel a mix of relief and disappointment that their... whatever this was... is coming to an end.

They exit the restaurant, the stagnant albeit much…cooler air of the outpost hallways are a welcome reprieve from the stuffy atmosphere inside. J holds her takeout container in one hand, acutely aware of Uzi's presence beside her as they walk in silence, deliberately maintaining a safe distance between them.

She sneaks glances at the smaller drone, who's clutching her own takeout container close to her chest–and suddenly, she becomes aware of a gentle brushing sensation against her free hand. Her tactile receptors buzz slightly as the faint touch of Uzi's tiny pinkie finger twitches alongside her own, quietly requesting her hand. 

Unable to determine the…appropriate response to this unexpected gesture, J racks her motherboard for an answer. When she finds nothing satisfying, she swallows the lump in her throat and allows their fingers to slot together. 

“Hey, um.” 

Uzi says, her voice almost booming amidst the quiet humming of the outpost’s interior. 

“Thank you for taking me out tonight, J.” 

Hesitantly, J allows her thumb to brush over Uzi's knuckles, marveling at the smoothness of her chassis. 

“I’m sorry I was so… me …and stuff.” 

Her ministrations suddenly still as they slow to a steadier gait. 

"You weren't…” J begins, trying to find the right words to say. “There's no need to apologize for being yourself."

Their footsteps echo softly in the quiet hallway as they continue to walk, neither seeming eager to reach their destination. 

"I suppose I should apologize for my own behavior," she adds after a moment. "I'm not exactly privy to... this.” 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up. The J? Apologizing? ” Uzi barks out a laugh. “Next thing you’re going to tell me is real J’s actually tied up in a basement and you’re some kind of…” 

J winces. 

“...S-sorry, bad joke, I didn’t mean–”

“It’s…It’s okay. You didn’t mean it like that.” 

Rounding a corner, they approach Uzi’s living quarters, and J feels a sudden panic rising within her. Soon, they'll have to part ways, and she's not sure she's ready for this moment to end. Her grip on Uzi's hand tightens involuntarily, causing the smaller drone to look up at her quizzically.

"Everything okay?" Uzi asks.

"I'm fine," she manages, her voice sounding strained even to herself. 

When they reach the door, they come to a stop, still holding hands. J picks up the faint hum of electricity coursing between them, and she wonders if Uzi can feel it too. Reluctantly, she releases her grip. 

"Well, I guess this is where we part ways," she says quietly.

"Yeah, I guess so." Uzi shifts her weight from one foot to the other.  “Did you not want to talk more about…?”

J’s chest clenches slightly, suddenly feeling very anxious. 

"I... ," 

Head swivelling nervously around the hallway, she searches for any sign of potential eavesdroppers. Finding none, she turns her attention back to Uzi, who's looking up at her expectantly. “I don’t see why not…” 

“You…wanna go somewhere more private?"

A surge of relief washes over J at the suggestion. "That would be...better, I think." 

"I mean, we could go back to our place, but I kinda promised my folks I'd crash with them for a bit..."

J's relief quickly turns to disappointment. "Oh, I see. A-another time then-"

"Wait!" Uzi interrupts, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I could totally sneak you in. My parents are usually passed out by now anyway."

Immediately, J's posture stiffens. "Sneak me in? That's... that's against regulations! We can't just-"

Protests die on J's lips as the hem of her suit is tugged on, heart racing with a mix of excitement and trepidation. Sneaking around feels so... juvenile, yet there's an undeniable thrill to it. J looks down at the ground with a nod, and with a soft beep, Uzi keys in her entry code, peering inside as the door hisses open. 

The air is thick with the stillness of sleep. J hears faint sound of Khan's snoring from another room. Uzi leads her through the common area, past piles of discarded machine parts and half-polished doors propped up against the walls.

"Shh," Uzi whispers, pressing a finger to her lips. J has to stop several times between steps, echolocating and calculating every creak and groan of the outpost as she tries to make her hulking frame as small and quiet as possible.

They reach Uzi's bedroom, slipping inside. 

Suddenly the world narrows to just the two of them.

For a moment, they stand there, staring at each other. It’s only for a few minutes, but to J, it feels like hours, mixes of purple and honeyed amber reflecting off the glossy finish of her visor. 

Without breaking eye contact, J gets down on her level, servos creaking slightly as her knees make contact with the cool iron hatching of her messy floor. 

Purple LED lights cast strange shadows across Uzi's features as a million thoughts race through her mind, face-to-face with this petite…spitfire of a girl. Proximity sensors flare warnings about personal space boundaries being crossed, but those alerts feel distant and irrelevant compared to the way Uzi's eyes seem to pierce right through her.

Hearts shouldn't flutter this way. They're not designed for it. Yet here she is, words sticking in her throat as she’s caught between the desperate need to say something and the paralyzing fear of saying the wrong thing. 

Tactical systems automatically begin calculating escape routes and risk assessments, an old habit she can't quite shake. But for once, she doesn't want to run. Instead, her focus narrows to the slight tremble in Uzi's hand as it reaches toward her face, time seeming to slow as delicate fingers trace along her jawline. 

"I...I’m not entirely sure what I'm doing."

Stars, what was she doing??

Combat protocols try to engage—old, instinctual programming attempting to categorize this touch as a threat. But there's no fight. No flight. Just…nothing. Nothing but her core buzzing with enough veracity to swim up her neck and hop out of her mouth. 

Soft laughter fills the space between them, not mocking but warm with understanding. 

"I still don't know what I'm doing."

This is highly inappropriate , the rational part of her mind protests weakly. She's technically your subordinate. There are protocols. Regulations. Yet still, her thoughts scatter like startled birds, leaving only the thundering pulse of her core and the ghost of Uzi's touch along her jaw.

All her arguments feel paper-thin against the weight of desire pooling in her chest, among… other places. 

Warning messages flash across her vision, ignored in favor of drinking in every detail of Uzi's expression - the slight parting of her lips, the determined set of her mouth, the faint purple glow intensifying in her eyes. Gentle fingertips trace higher, mapping the contours of her face with a tenderness that makes her want to cry. 

Uzi's thumb brushes across her lower lip. 

Just once . 

Their foreheads touch first, achingly slow.

Just to remember what it felt like.  

When their lips finally meet, it's soft and tentative. 

Internal cautionaries continue to flash, ignored in favor of the way Uzi's lips press against hers, soft and careful like she's something precious rather than dangerous. She lets out a whine, hands hovering just shy of the other drone’s hips. 

When did breathing become so difficult?

Carefully, so carefully, her fingers finally settle, drawing out a soft sound. 

Oh robo-god, oh robo-god, oh robo-god...

Their mouths move together hesitantly first, exploring, learning. The smaller drone sighs, lips cracking open slightly enough for her to feel her tongue behind her teeth. J feels dizzy.

What was she doing?

Apparently, that’s something she’s been asking herself a lot lately. 

Everything inside her burns like starfire as her confidence slowly grows, still hesitant but…searching–hungry now. 

Uzi’s tongue traces along J’s bottom lip, and all coherent thought dissipates as her grip tightens instinctively. Something deep within her chest constricts painfully. It feels like falling, like flying, like something dangerous and beautiful that she’s only recently been able to muster up the  name for. 

Breaking apart briefly, they share heated breaths in the narrow space between them. 

“You’re…not a very good kisser.” Uzi teases breathlessly, and J suddenly becomes acutely aware of how much she was drooling.

Mortification crashes down on her as she hastily wipes at her mouth, face burning hot enough she swears the color of her eyes is draining down into her faceplate. "I-I'm perfectly capable of-" 

"Like kissing a washing machine." Uzi snickers. "All whirring and sloshing around-"

J swallows uncomfortably. "Stop it."

"What, can't take a little teasing? I thought-"

"I said stop ." The words come out sharp. "I told you I don't... I don't like it when you pick on me.” 

Especially not about this.  

”Oh,” Silence falls between them, heavy and uncertain. Uzi's expression shifts from playful to concerned. 

“Shit, I- I'm sorry.” 

In all their interactions, she's never known Uzi to back down and actually listen –let alone apologize. It’s…strange. 

Say something, you useless, overgrown toaster. 

"I... appreciate that," She mumbles out. “I know I’m not very experienced with... this." 

Core temperature elevated. Cooling systems at 87% capacity. 

"Neither am I, really," Uzi admits, thumb tracing absent patterns on J's plating. "I just... I get nervous and default to being a little shit sometimes."

A strangled snort escapes, earning a tentative smile.

Robo-god, she’s actually kind of cute. 

…sort of. 

Why does she have to be so… infuriatingly endearing ?

"Can we... try again?" Uzi's voice is soft, almost shy. "I promise I'll behave this time."

Before rational thought can fully form, J nods quicker than she can think, and still cupping her face, Uzi tugs her down into another kiss. This time, it's different—slower, more deliberate. 

Trailing down her neck, digits catch on the seam that connects her head to her upper body, and J attempts to choke down the whimper it earns as those exploring fingers find a particularly sensitive spot just beneath her jaw. 

"Oh?" Uzi says, intrigued. Her thumb presses against that same spot again, pulling out another involuntary sound.

J squeezes her hips tightly, drawing their bodies flush together as something primitive and needy takes over.

"You like that, huh?" Uzi whispers against her mouth.

Hazily, J can barely make out her voice. “S…Say again?”

Robo-god, this tiny menace will be the death of her. 

"Wonder if you’re all sensitive in the same places," Uzi muses against her throat. "N and V make the sweetest sounds when I touch right... here."

Something greedy and possessive rears up at those words. Before J can process the reaction, a growl tears from her throat, sharp and territorial. 

"Oh, you do like that.” 

Basal coding deep within screams mine-mine-mine even as rational thought tries to argue otherwise. Sharing has never bothered her before - the thought of N and V with Uzi typically brings warmth rather than jealousy. Yet something about hearing it spoken aloud triggers responses she can't exactly control.

"What's wrong?" Uzi's voice cuts through the fogginess, almost knowingly. “Does that bother you?"

Yes. No. Maybe. Words tangle together like unruly branches as conflicting impulses war. Part of her wants to mark, claim, assert dominance - like when they were meant to be predators. Another part just wants to melt under those hands.

It’s amazing how suddenly her olfactory receptors become almost overwhelmed with both of her former squadmates' unique distinctions— synthetic pheromones invisible to anyone but them that essentially act as a firm way of saying ‘This is mine. Don’t touch it.’ 

"You're saying that on purpose," J grumbles, reflexively gripping down harder. She earns a gasp in response, followed by a breathy chuckle. 

“Maybe,” 

Her fingers map everywhere N and V have left their signatures. 

"I can smell them all over you."

" Smell them on me?” Uzi asks, confused, then laughs. "Okay, weirdo. The others never told me you guys can do that.” 

"We're designed to track prey," she mutters, trying to keep her voice steady. "Pheromone detection is part of our base programming."

Another soft laugh tickles against her throat. "What do I smell like?"

"Like..." J struggles to find the words, distracted by the way Uzi's thumb is still stroking that sensitive spot under her jaw. "Like lightning. And..." She inhales deeply to analyze further. "...and energy drinks."

"Mm, romantic," Uzi teases. "What about N and V? What do they smell like on me?"

There’s a pause. 

"N smells like... pine needles. Snow. Clean.”

Another soft inhale.

"V is sharper. Ozone. Gunpowder."

Uzi's fingers find another sensitive spot along J’s collar. "That's... actually kind of hot.” 

J’s breath shudders, and Uzi makes a pleased hum.

“…You're not marking your territory , are you?" She badgers, though there's a note of genuine curiosity. 

"No!" J protests automatically, then pauses. "...Maybe a little."

The admission makes her face burn hotter, but Uzi just laughs and tilts her head, exposing more of her. "Well, don't let me stop you."

Mine , that part of her insists again. Mine, mine, mine.

But she's not, not really. Uzi belongs to all of them, in her own way. The thought should bother her more than it does.

Instead, it just makes her want to prove herself worthy of sharing.

J pushes her face further into Uzi's neck, nuzzling underneath it with an affectionate string of chuffs. 

"There it is," Uzi breathes, clearly pleased with herself. "I love when you guys get all possessive. It's so cute."

All J wants to do is pull the smaller drone closer, lick her, nuzzle her, bite her, mark her with-

No. Stop that.

Instead, she lets out a humiliating chirp, her chestplate rattling with the vibrations of her rumbling.

"Listen to those purrs," Uzi praises, scratching behind where J's ears would be if she were organic. "Such a good girl."

The praise makes her shudder. J makes a sound somewhere between a growl and a whine, face buried in Uzi's shoulder to hide her flushed face. She should be embarrassed–she is embarrassed–but she can't seem to make herself stop. 

Deft fingers trace along her headband, gently caressing the auxiliary eyes there. "These are really sensitive, aren't they?" Uzi murmurs, thumb circling one of the bulbs. "N loves it when I play with his."

She should be at a point where she’s desperately trying to maintain some semblance of dignity, but Uzi's fingers feel so good against her sensors that she can't bring herself to care.

"Mmmngh…”

"Use your words," Uzi giggles, scratching lightly at the base of one sensor.

"I..." J mumbles. "It's... nice."

"Just nice?"

Another gentle stroke has her tail thumping faster as she fights back the sting of tears just from how overwhelmingly good she feels.

"I..." She swallows hard. "I love it. Please don't stop."

"Aw, see? Was that so hard?"

J responds by headbutting Uzi's palm, silently demanding more. She feels ridiculous, acting like some oversized housecat, but she can't seem to help herself.

"Oh my robo-god, you're actually adorable," Uzi snorts, obliging with more gentle strokes. "Wait 'til I tell the others about this."

"Don't you dare," 

"Make me," Uzi challenges, then immediately squeaks as J nips playfully at her fingers.

The bite turns into gentle nibbling along digits, and Uzi giggles, her free hand tugging at the collar of J’s blazer. 

"Come here," 

Tugging her toward the bed, Uzi falls backwards and pulls J with her. They land in a tangle of limbs, J instinctively catching herself to avoid crushing her.

"Careful," She mutters, settling beside her on the mattress.

"Says the one who was just trying to eat my hand," Uzi teases, poking J's faceplate. 

What starts as an indignant huff turns into a pleased rumble as Uzi scratches under her chin. Before she can stop herself, she's rolling onto her back. 

"Aw. You’re just like a kitty," Uzi snickers, continuing her motions–then immediately ruins any attempt at sultry confidence by snorting. "Like, a really pretty cat though? With murder tendencies?"

"You…think I'm pretty?"

"I mean, duh?" Uzi's own face flushes purple. 

"Well yeah, I mean..." Uzi's face flushes deeper purple as she gestures vaguely at J's form. "Have you seen yourself? The whole predator thing is kind of...really hot."

"...Predator thing?"

"You know," Uzi squirms slightly. "The claws, and the fangs, and the way you guys move all graceful and dangerous and stuff. It's..." She trails off, face practically glowing now. "Really attractive. Like, objectively speaking."

J's internal temperature rises several degrees. "O-objectively speaking."

"And the wings!" Uzi blurts out, then immediately looks mortified at her own enthusiasm. "The wings are just...wow. Really wow. Especially when they catch the light just right and..." She makes a strangled sound and covers her face. "Please tell me to shut up."

"You’re saying you have like…a thing …for DD units?"

"Maybe?" Uzi peeks through her fingers. "Is that weird? That's probably weird. I'm making this weird."

"It's..." J searches for the right word as her core pulses faster. "Interesting?"

"Cool. Great. Awesome." Uzi nods rapidly, still hiding behind her hands. "I'm just gonna go die now."

"You're the one who started this conversation," J points out, feeling strangely emboldened by Uzi's obvious embarrassment.

"Yeah well, you're the one who's all..." Uzi waves her hand vaguely again. "Tall and scary-hot with your stupid…pretty face and murder hands."

"Murder...hands?"

"Shut uuuup," Uzi groans, burying her face in J's chest. "I'm trying to be sexy…” 

"You're bad at it," J dares to tease back, earning a light smack against her chassis. She pulls Uzi closer, nuzzling into her hair as they settle more comfortably on the bed.

"Shut up, I'm great at it. You're just immune to my charms," Uzi grumbles, but snuggles up to her anyways. J huffs.

”You know,” The smaller of the two starts. "When you're not being such a hardass, you're actually kind of a sweetheart."

J makes an indignant sound. "I am not."

"Are too." Uzi pokes her side. 

She finds herself struck by just how tiny Uzi feels in her arms. The worker drone's frame fits perfectly against her chassis, head tucked under J's chin as they lie tangled together on the bed. Something about holding her like this stirs old memories - fragments of when J herself was smaller.

"Hey,” Uzi begins softly, fingers tracing idle patterns across J's plating. "What’s on your mind? You got quiet."

Hestitating, she debates how to answer. "Just... thinking.” Her voice drops to a low mumble. “Sometimes I miss not being so…cumbersome.” 

The weight feels different than N or V–lighter, more delicate. Her arms could wrap around Uzi's frame twice.

"Sometimes I forget you guys used to be different.” 

Touches ghost over welded scars between her plating—places where her original frame was rebuilt into something larger, deadlier. Places that still ache dully when the planet’s surface was especially cold.  

Fingers pausing over a particularly deep seam, J winces as it traces the curve of warped metal. 

"Does it still hurt?”

“Sometimes.” 

She doesn't elaborate on the nights spent clawing at her own plating, desperate to tear away the changes Cyn forced upon them, or how she still catches glimpses of her old reflection in mirrors or broken windows. 

"I used to wonder why you were always so angry," 

It's strange having someone else know her past so intimately, stranger still that it's Uzi of all people. But there's something freeing about not having to explain herself. 

"Now all I can remember is how scared you were."

Something in J's chest skips. "What do you mean you remem-" 

The realization hits like a surge. Of course. The Solver. Cyn's memories. 

Her voice comes out strangled. "How much did you see?"

"Everything." Uzi's hand finds hers, squeezing gently. "The gala. The basement. What Cyn made you do to..."

Classified memory files play in perfect clarity - Tessa's final moments, the way her hands moved without her permission as her consciousness went dark.

"I didn't want to," The words spill out before she can stop them. "I swear I-"

"I know." Uzi cuts her off as tears well in J’s eyes, and she’s held just a little tighter. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."

J buries her face in Uzi's hair, shoulders beginning to tremble. 

“We love you, you know.”

Smaller hands interlace their fingers, keeping her tethered in the present as emotional fatigue threatens to pull her under. J can’t will herself to say it back. 

…Yet.

"You're purring again," Uzi whispers

"Mm." J doesn't bother denying it this time. 

She should get up. Return to her own quarters. Don’t get used to this. 

Don’t get used to this, you’re only going to get hurt. 

"Stop thinking so loud," Comes a soft whisper, palms splaying out across the front of her chest. "I can hear your fans."

"Sorry," J automatically responds, then catches herself. Old habits die hard.

"Don’t." Uzi shifts closer, tucking herself a little more securely against J's frame. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.” 

The gentleness is almost worse than the teasing - it makes her feel exposed in ways she's not sure how to handle. Uzi’s bed is warm. Uzi is warm. Its hard to be scared when you’re being handled so delicately. Against her better judgement, her systems begin their shutdown sequence, lulled by gentle touches and the steady hum of Uzi's core against hers.

“You getting sleepy?” She asks, brushing her thumb against J’s blazer. 

"Not sleepy, Just... resting my eyes.” 

A soft laugh tickles her neck. "Sure.” 

"'m not." 

Gentle fingers scratch behind her audials, drawing out another pleased rumble. "You can sleep. I'll stay."

"Promise?"

"Promise." Uzi presses a soft kiss to her jaw.

For once, chiding, doubtful voices grow quieter, muffled by the security of a tiny body snuggled in a warm hug along her side. With a sigh, her tail snakes upward, protectively coiling loosely around the smaller drone’s calf. 

“Okay.” She breathes. 

"Sweet dreams, you big softie."

Chapter Text

J's internal clock jolts her systems online at precisely 5:45 AM. Her processors take a moment to boot up, fans whirring quietly as she orients herself in the cramped bedroom. 

Beside her, Uzi has somehow contorted herself into what looks like a painful pretzel shape, her back turned to J with one leg propped against the wall and an arm dangling off the bed. J marvels at how anyone could sleep like that without damaging their hardware.

"Uzi," J whispers, gently nudging her companion's shoulder. "I need to leave."

The only response is an incomprehensible grumble as Uzi burrows deeper into her blanket cocoon. J tries again, this time a bit more insistent.

"Come on, wake up. Your parents’ll notice if I stay too long."

"Mmnngh... five more minutes," Uzi mumbles, pulling the blanket over her head.

She shudders. The last thing she needs is another encounter with Nori or Khan. One awkward doorstep interrogation had been quite enough.

Poking her exposed side, J makes a final attempt to rouse her—which earns another groan and a half-hearted swat in her general direction. 

J sighs. Of course Uzi can sleep in—she doesn't have anywhere to be. But her schedule demands adherence, not to mention the very real need to make a stealthy exit before facing any consequences of the night prior. 

Carefully, she untangles herself from Uzi's sheets, pegs clicking against the cool floor as J surveys the obstacle course that is the bedroom ahead of her—a minefield of discarded clothes, half-finished engineering projects, and what appears to be several old dismantled worker drone bodies. 

Eugh. 

Honestly, how does she live like this? 

Each step requires strategic placement to avoid creating noise, and J winces as her foot connects with something metal. She freezes mid-motion, glancing over her shoulder. Uzi merely rolls over, still dead to the world. 

Slipping into the hallway, J’s cooling systems gradually return to normal operation as she makes her way toward freedom.

The front entrance is in sight. Just a few more steps and she can pretend this whole sneaking-out situation never happened. Her hand reaches for the—

"I—Good…good morning?” 

Standing there in the kitchen doorway is Khan, coffee mug frozen halfway to his face. 

Equally wide eyes stare at each other from across the room in mutual shock. J's mouth opens and closes, but her voice modulation fails to produce any sound. Khan looks equally paralyzed, his expression cycling through surprise, confusion, and something J can't quite identify.

"I was just... conducting a maintenance inspection," she manages pathetically. Khan takes a slow sip of his coffee, one eyebrow raised.

"Yes! Yup, Just was…" J's hands flutter uselessly at her sides. "Checking the... structural integrity of... the ceiling."

"The ceiling," Khan repeats slowly.

"From below," J adds weakly, then immediately wishes she hadn't spoken at all. She attempts to straighten her posture but only succeeds in bumping into the coat rack, the resulting clatter making her jump.

 "A-anyways I uh. Everything seems um. Up to code! Looks like my services aren’t…needed.” The words tumble out in a disjointed rush as she fumbles with the post, attempting to steady it. “I-I’m just going to go back and u-uh, file that. In my office. Which is where I'm going. Now." 

Mr. Doorman’s silence is deafening.

"I'll have that report on your desk by—“

Finally managing to get the door open, J lets out an undignified squeak, practically throwing herself through it before she can finish her sentence.

—

The hallway's cool air hits her overheated systems like a blessing, and J quickly makes short work of putting as much distance between herself and the most mortifying moment of her existence as she possibly could manage. 

She sends a desperate prayer to whatever ancient programming deity might be listening—please let Khan's memory banks be old enough to develop corrupted files. Or better yet, maybe he'll choose to delete this particular interaction entirely. She certainly plans to try. 

At least she managed to escape before Nori showed up. 

—

The residential sector of Outpost-3 stretches down long hallways of emergency strips lining the ceiling, casting an intermittent glow across the worn metal walls. The corridor's industrial aesthetic remains largely unchanged from its mining facility days - exposed pipes snake overhead, occasionally dripping condensation onto the floor with quiet, rhythmic pings. At this hour, the usual bustle of worker drones is absent. 

Soft humming sounds behind closed doors indicate some level of stirring, creating a subtle ambience that echoes through the empty hallways. The scent of machine oil and heated metal hangs in the air, mixed with the perpetual metallic tang. 

She passes the community recreation area, now silent and dark except for the soft blue glow of inactive screens and the occasional blinking standby light. A forgotten mug sits on one of the tables, its contents long since cooled. 

— New Messages —

C:\SD-J\system32>cd\incoming\SD-N

>display SD-J_602HRS.msg

[J]: I have an…update to our previous communication.

N's response comes through almost immediately, and J’s core flutters giddily in her chest. 

[N]: Wow hey! You’re up early! 

[J]: I could say the same for you? 

[N]: Haha i don’t sleep very well ^_^”

[N]: Anyways!

[J]: I may have... stayed at Uzi's place last night.

[N]: :O!!!! 

[N]: Did you two...?

Heat rushes to J's face. She glances around the empty hallway, paranoid someone might see her flustered state even though she's completely alone.

[J]: We just slept! Nothing happened!

[N]: Aww that's still really sweet though! I'm glad you two are getting closer ^_^

Sweet? No, it wasn't sweet. It was mortifying. Especially getting caught by Khan during her pathetic attempt at an exit.

[J]: I made a complete fool of myself in front of Mr. Doorman. 

[N]: Oh nooo…

[N]: Well

[N]: How was it? ;_;

[J]: How was what…?

Her steps slow as she watches the response appear. 

[N]: Oh you know, like…the little chair with the straps where Khan asks what your intentions are with his daughter while Nori holds a flashlight up to your eyes to see if you’re lying??

[J]: That’s…not a real thing. Is it?

[N]: Oh it definitely is! It’s terrifying! 

[N]: There’s this whole lecture they give about "responsible coding practices" and "maintaining proper firewalls"

J'd never considered the implications of code sharing between drones before - at least not in that context.

[J]: They didn't do anything like that to me.

[N]: Really? 

[N]: Khan was really worried about accidental program compilation...

[J]: Accidental what now?

Her diagnostic systems automatically begin running calculations about her recent activities, searching for any unexpected program modifications or…unauthorized access points. She’s been engaging in intimate connections so eagerly as of late it was almost stupid of her not to consider all the potential consequences. What if she and Uzi had accidentally...? What if she and V...?

[N]: Did they seriously not give you the talk? 

[J]: NO ONE GAVE ME ANY TALK.

[N]: Don't worry! It's not as scary as it sounds. Just lots of questions. And diagrams. 

[N]: So many diagrams…

[J]: I think I got the memo, thank you. 

Pausing, J’s gaze now hovers over the interface. 

[J]: On an…unrelated note. I don't know what your schedule is like, but I've allotted a timeframe between 18-19:30pm next Friday for some…personal attention.

[J]: If you would…care to join me?

Did she really just suggest that? 

[N]: Oh! o_o

[N]: Well that's very forward, but you know I like doing anything!

[J]: What do you mean forward? We did this two days ago?

[N]: …Did we?

[N]: Oh! You mean preening

J stops, tail swishing behind her feet. Her brow furrows in confusion as she squints at his message. 

[J]: What else would I mean

[N]: Nothing! Sorry! 

[N]: Yes, It's a date! ^_^

A date? 

No, surely he means a…scheduled appointment. That's all. Just a perfectly normal maintenance session between two professional colleagues who happened to kiss once.

...twice, if she counts the one she gave him on the cheek before definitely not freaking out. Uzi was ridiculous for even suggesting that. J does not freak out. 

Regardless, there’s still a barely perceptible bounce to her steps as she makes her way home, and the  quivering of her core deep in her chest cavity would probably be flagged as an irregular pump pattern—if she actually bothered to run her system scan.

She catches her reflection in a darkened display panel, and it’s only after it’s passed by that J notices she was smiling. 

—

The common room lights flicker on automatically as J enters, revealing V sprawled across their shared couch.

She freezes mid-step as their optics meet for a fraction of a second, and before J can say anything, she rises in one sudden, fluid motion. 

V’s movements are deliberately casual as she adjusts her scarf, attention fixed on some fascinating point on the far wall, and without a word, she strides past her toward the hallway, not even acknowledging J’s presence.

Following behind her, if not for a moment, J stands in observation with a hand against the frame of the entryway, watching as V’s tail disappears into confines of her room. 

Something seems…off about her door as it slides shut—the locking mechanism doesn't engage with its usual decisive click. 

Maybe the mechanism needs maintenance? 

But, no…no, V would have reported a malfunction like that  immediately. Maybe she got distracted? No, V never leaves her security protocols unchecked, even during especially intensive tasks. Unless...

She quickly dismisses the most obvious conclusion. After all, if V wanted to talk, she would just…say so, right? 

Feeling oddly deflated, J’s gaze lingers only got a moment longer before retreating to her own room.

She settles onto her mattress, posture giving way to an undignified flop. The springs creak slightly under her weight, systems continuing to run background analyses on V's behaviour. 

J forces her thoughts to redirect. She’s being silly. She knows V will seek her out when she's ready to discuss…Whatever this was. 

Maybe. 

Chapter Text

The city stretches out below them, a maze of steel and glass catching the bright moonlight painted in a moonmist whitewash.

J watches Uzi through half-lidded optics, the smaller bot perched precariously on an air vent, completely absorbed in her handheld game as N's nimble fingers work through her feathers.

"—and then Jillian had the audacity to suggest we reorganize the entire inventory system," J continues. "As if the current system isn't perfectly adequate—"

N's digits find a particularly tight spot, and with a twist, her shoulder joint releases with a satisfying crack. J tenses momentarily with a grunt before melting into the touch, a low purr beginning to rumble through her chest. 

"Oh, that sounded like a fun one," Uzi comments absently, thumbs tapping rapidly at her screen. 

"The inventory system has been optimized for maximum efficiency," J mumbles into her folded arms, crisp diction slurring slightly as he moves on to another section. "There's absolutely no logical reason to— Ah… ”

"Your alignment is completely off," N observes, working his way down another section of her wings. "Think you’re spending too much time hunched over that desk. No wonder everything's locked up."

She wants to argue, but another manipulation sends a cascade of pleasant tingles down her spine, and her retort dissolves into an embarrassing, needy sound.

" S-speaking of desks ," she manages after regaining some composure, "are either of you free tomorrow? It's been nothing but paperwork all week and I thought maybe..." 

J trails off, suddenly self-conscious about asking.

"Mmm, sort of," Uzi responds, not looking up from her game. "Been trying to master this sick pinwheel trick with my new yoyo."

"That sounds incredibly boring."

"Au contraire!" Uzi finally tears her gaze away from the screen, fishing something from her pocket. "This baby glows in the dark."

"Fascinating," J deadpans, then turns to N. “What about you?” 

N's fingers pause.

"No…" he says, obviously trying to keep a creeping tone of dread out of his voice. "I have to go help Sparky get polished tomorrow. She's really big and she hates it, so V usually brings me along so I can hold her down."

She tries to ignore the twinge of disappointment in her chest. "Oh, okay. That’s… that's fine." 

"By the way," Uzi pipes up, her game momentarily forgotten in favor of tossing her yo-yo on the ground and letting it spin in place. 

"How are things with V? Haven't heard much since the last you talked about her."

Heat floods J's screen, and she has to clear her throat awkwardly.

“Um… Like… usual…"

"What's… usual?" 

"O-Oh, you know, talking our… usual amount." J wishes N would go back to working on her wings, if only to provide a distraction from this particular conversation.

Uzi narrows her eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I think ," N chimes in, clearly trying to help, "what Uzi's trying to ask is how that conversation you had with her last week went? You know, about the one where you apologized for using her and making her out to be an emotional punching bag and–"

"Wh—I— what? " J sputters indignantly.

"You did bring that up to her, right? " 

Quickly, J accesses her internal messaging log—and there it is—V's message from last Friday, still sitting unread. 

How has it been a week already?

J swears up and down she was going to get around to it, honest! She just… got busy! Obviously career takes priority, it would take an idiot not to realize that. Surely V understood. Hell! She was probably busy too—considering how often of late she’s made herself scarce in J’s presence. 

It certainly wasn’t because J was procrastinating or anything. No, no, J is completely capable of communicating and handling conflict just as well as anyone else.

"I've been meaning to, it's just—"

"Just what?" The smaller drone’s eyes narrow slightly.

"There's been a lot of work and—"

"J." N's gentle voice carries a note of disappointment that makes her gut twist. "We both know that's not true."

"Am I just crazy or does it feel like you guys are ganging up on me? First you accuse me of using V, then you call me a liar and—"

Another hiss of the yo-yo string unreels onto the pavement. "Hey man, if the shoe fits," 

"Look, if you'd just let me—" 

"No, you look," Uzi cuts in.

"Will you stop interrupting me?" J snaps back, bristling. 

Uzi lets out a soft sigh, slipping off the air vent with a soft thump . She leans in to study J's face with an uncharacteristically serious expression. Words seem to catch in J’s throat, and suddenly she’s at a loss of what to say. 

"V's just as involved in this as the rest of us," Uzi finally says when the silence begins to stretch a little too long.  "Have you just been like… avoiding her this whole time?"

“…Not any more than she's been avoiding me ," she tries weakly.

”Just answer the question, J.” 

"Maybe," She admits, her voice now even smaller. "N-not intentionally though, I've just been… busy, like I said, and whenever I'm free, she's not and every time we're in the same room together she just gets up and leaves."

"Well where does she usually go?"

"I don't know, her room?"

"Does she leave the door unlocked?"

N's gaze bounces between them like he's watching a tennis match.

"Usually?"

"Have you considered she’s been wanting you to reach out to her ?"

The thought hits J like a bucket of ice water. Of course! Of course she was! Robo-god, why was it so hard to do something right for once?!

Uzi pinches the bridge of her visor with another exasperated noise. "Okay, okay, here's what we're gonna do. We had a very nice night with you and—"

A pit of dread forms in J's core. "B-but we have thirty more minutes—"

"And, unfortunately we're gonna have to dip early. No hard feelings, but you guys have to sort this out before we keep doing stuff like this."

"Hooray! Unionizing!" N chimes in.

"What?!"

"Uh. Yeah, sure, actually," Uzi grins. " We're going to go on strike until our management smooths out their PR issues.” 

“ What?!” J sputters, scrambling for an excuse. "I-I mean, I could talk to her, but it's getting late and—" 

"It's barely nine," Uzi cuts in, already gathering her things. "V's definitely still up. You should go see if she’s in her room."

"But our maintenance—"

"Nope! No more until you figure this out. New union demands." Uzi says nonchalantly, already heading for the edge of the skyliner and spreading her wings. 

"That's not how unions work," J protests weakly, but N is already following Uzi, giving J an apologetic wave.

"Sorry J, we’ll take a raincheck!" he calls over his shoulder. “Good luck!”

J watches helplessly as her friends take off into the night sky, their silhouettes cutting sharp angles against the moon before banking sharply around the corner of a nearby building. The whoosh of their wings fades into the ambient hum of the city below, leaving her alone once again. 

Her maintenance is still half-finished, wing joints tingling where N had started loosening the tension. She rolls her shoulder experimentally, wincing at the uneven pull of partially-adjusted mechanisms.

This is ridiculous. Completely unprofessional. A union ? Really ?

A gust of winter wind whips around her, making J shudder. She finds herself staring at the spot where Uzi had been perched on the air vent, the faint scuff marks from her boots the only evidence they were ever here.

The message notification from V still blinks insistently on her internal display, almost mocking her. J groans loudly, dragging her hands down her face and stretching out the pixelated stress lines on her visor.

Tonight was going to be a long night.  

—

The hallway inside their flat feels impossibly long, night-cycle lighting casting strange shadows as J shifts nervously from foot to foot in front of V’s room, mulling through possible conversation starters. Each one just seems more inadequate than the last. 

Just knock. It's not that difficult. Just raise your hand and—

Before she can even finish the thought, the door slides open with a soft hiss, and J freezes like a deer in the headlights. 

"O-Oh, you’re…” 

V tilts her head, expression unreadable in the low light.

“…awake?” J finishes slowly. 

“Got hungry." She holds up an oil can as evidence. "What are you doing here?” 

"I was just—" she squeaks back. “I wanted to—" 

Crossing her arms, V leans herself against the panel of the doorframe, raising an expectant brow. 

The words come out mumbled beneath her lips, and J kicks at a stray dustbunny on the floor, unable to meet her gaze.

“I’m sorry.” 

Something in V’s posture shifts. “Are you now?"

"Obviously, I wouldn't be saying it otherwise."

Eyes narrowing, V doesn’t seem impressed nor convinced. "What exactly are you sorry for?"

"I—I'm sorry I made you feel bad."

"That doesn't sound like you know what you're apologizing for." 

"Oh come on!" J throws her hands up in frustration. "What more do you want from me? You’ve been hiding from me all week, I just—“ 

"Okay, I see what's happening here." V turns back toward her door. "Turns out I’m not hungry after all, what are the odds?” 

"See, there you go again!" 

Immediately stiffening, she looks over her shoulder mid-exit. 

" Excuse you? "

"Avoiding me, just like I said."

"Are you hearing yourself?" V's voice rises, and J flinches compulsively. 

"Well, if you'd just let me finish—"

"No, you know what? I’ve been letting you finish. For weeks now. And every time, it's the same thing. You get lonely, you just use us when it’s convenient for you and forget everything ever happened the next day.”  

Robo-christ, nobody told her everyone was celebrating Interrupt J Day today. She’s not even getting paid time and a half. 

"That's not—" J reels. “I wasn't using you!"

"Really? Then why’d you wait so long to come talk to me?” 

"I-I was planning on it! I just got… ambushed tonight with some ridiculous ultimatum about—"

"About talking to me?" V lets out a harsh laugh. "So you're only here because my partners made you come?"

"No! I mean, yes, but— I-It's complicated!"

“It’s really not.” She states flatly. “You’re not sorry. You just feel bad because your actions had a consequence.“

"What consequences? "  J’s getting defensive now, swallowing down the lump welling up in her throat. "Last time I checked I wasn't your girlfriend —"

"Somehow that makes it even worse!" V takes a step forward, making J stumble back. "You don't even care, I'm just an outlet for you when you're feeling miserable about yourself!"

"I do not!"

"Yeah? Explain to me then why so far since you've come back, it's been nothing but ' Oh V, I'm angry, come fight me, V, I'm sad, come comfort me, V, I'm drunk and lonely, come fuck me. '"

"I—" J stammers, momentarily locking up before she finally finds her voice again. "I... I didn't mean to make you feel that way. I was just trying to— to figure things out."

"Figure out what exactly?" 

"Everything! This is all new to me and I don't know how to—"

"So I'm just an experiment ?" V takes another step forward. "Your little crash test dummy you can feel things out with before you go out into the real world?"

"That's not what I meant! You're twisting my words!"

"Am I? Because it sounds like you're making excuses instead of taking responsibility."

“I came here to apologize!" J stamps her foot down, fists clenching at her sides like an angry toddler about to throw a tantrum. 

V is not having it. 

"No, you came here because N and Uzi made you feel guilty." V's voice carries a bitter edge that makes J's core run cold. "You're still not getting it."

"Getting what? That I'm apparently some kind of emotional vampire? That I'm not allowed to need support sometimes?"

"There's a difference between needing support and using people!" V's servos whine as she gestures sharply. "And you're still making this all about you!"

The sight of V's shoulders trembling makes J’s chest constrict. "I didn't… that… wasn't intentional."

"Of course it wasn't!" V swipes angrily at her optics. "You never intend to hurt anyone, you just do it because you're so wrapped up in yourself that you can't see what's right in front of you!" 

Pettiness seeps right back in like a poison. 

“Oh? What were your intentions when I came to you like that in the first place then?"

" What? " V's eyes flash dangerously.

That was a low blow, and she knows it. But J’s angry. and when J’s angry, she doubles down. 

"You heard me. If I'm such a terrible person for wanting comfort, what does that make you for taking advantage of someone who was clearly vulnerable?"

V's hand shoots out, grabbing J's chassis and slamming her against the wall. The impact sends a painful vibration down her spine, but she doesn't fight back.

"How dare you?" V hisses, and J can’t tell if the quiver of her lip is from hurt or outrage. "I deserve more than being reduced to a one-night stand you can throw back in my face!”

Her grip tightens, and J sucks in a breath through her teeth. “Or did you forget?" V continues. “ You kissed me first. You begged me to stay. And now you have the gall to imply—"

Optics drop back to the floor, replaying that night over and over with brutal clarity – desperate kisses, pleading words, fingers scrabbling against bare chassis—

"Look at me when I'm talking to you." V's voice cuts through J's spiraling thoughts. When J doesn't respond, V's free hand grips her chin, forcing her face up. "I said look at me. "

Twisting sharply, J tries to break V's grip as a staticky snarl rips from her throat. She manages to wrench free, stumbling back a few steps—but V is faster. In a blur of motion, J’s wrists are caught above her head. 

"Stop it." V growls harshly. Her grip feels like iron.  

J thrashes against the hold, and V jerks forward, thrusting her back into place with a low growl.

Out of pure instinct, J stills in the same way prey freezes before a predator. 

 “You’re a big girl. Use your words.” 

Her wrists ache where V's fingers dig into synthetic muscle, and after a brief lapse, J finally opens her mouth. 

"I—" The words caught in her throat, small and vulnerable. It’s pathetic, but she tries again anyway, forcing herself to meet V's eyes. "I didn't mean to say that."

"Try again." V's voice is low, dangerous. 

Static fills J's vision as a panicked pressure builds behind her eyes. "I don't— I still don't know what you want me to say."

"That's exactly the problem." V's grip loosens slightly, but she doesn't let go. 

"Then help me understand! " The words burst out in a desperate cry, laced with building interference. "Please, just— just tell me what you need to hear because I— I'm trying and I keep getting it wrong and I—"

Her voice catches on a harsh crackle. 

"I'm scared , okay?" The admission tears from her throat like barbed wire. "The last time I let myself care about someone like this, I watched her get torn apart right in front of me. And now there's— there's you and there's them and I don't know how to—" She chokes on the words.  "I can't— I can't go through that again. I can't . But I still— I still want —"

“This is pathetic.” V grumbles, and J stops for a moment, staring up at her. Frankly, she’s a little caught off guard by how callous she sounds. Not that she was expecting pity… 

Well, maybe she was, at least a little . Even if she’d be caught dead before admitting it. But that's besides the point. 

”You think you're the only one who's lost someone?" V's voice cuts like glass. "You don't get to use your trauma as an excuse to be a bad person! ”

V’s right. V’s right and J knows it and that makes it so much worse. J feels her chest clench, an unpleasant, gripping feeling settling into the pit of her stomach. 

Bad person. Bad girl. Bad . 

"I’m not trying to—" J starts weakly. That sensation pulses deeper within her, tingling with hurt– grinding against her tanks as an all encompassing feeling to unsheathe her claws and rip it out of her midriff takes over. 

"You're not trying at all!" She snaps, gesturing violently as her own frustration mounts, and finally, the dam breaks. 

V lets J drop when her shaking knees finally give out, stepping back as she curls into herself with tail between her legs like a scolded animal. J buries her face into her arms, trying to will away the sting behind her optics, joints locking up while her processors spiral into an endless loop of self-recrimination. 

"Ugh. J, get off the floor…” 

She just shakes her head, brushing her bangs against her knees as she rocks slightly. “No…” J starts pitifully, her voice muffled. “I belong here…”

She can only see the glimpses of hazard stripes through the curtain of her hair, shifting awkwardly from peg to peg. “You’re acting like a child.”  

"I'm not a baby," J whines back, immediately undermining her own protest. She keeps her face buried against her knees. "’M’just being honest.” 

“Oh my Robo-god, no, you’re being manipulative!" V groans, lulling her head to the side and throwing up her hands in exasperation. "This whole 'woe is me' act? Making me feel bad for calling you out? This is exactly what I'm talking about."

That dejected feeling quickly flips to one more comparable to resentment. How dare she insinuate that? J was the one who came to her. V of all people should know how hard apologies are–Now she decides she’s just going to slap a manipulative label on her forehead and call it a day?

No. 

No, J was trying. She was trying so, so hard, and she did not deserve to be spoken to that way. 

Tail thrashing now, she pushes herself up from the floor almost immediately, joints creaking in protest as she straightens her blazer, desperately trying to gather whatever remains of her dignity.

"You know what? Fine. Fine . I clearly can't say anything right without it being twisted into something terrible." The words taste bitter in her mouth as she turns away from V. "I'm going to go before I make things worse. Again. Like I apparently always do ."

She turns sharply, arms pulled tight against her body as she moves to make a stride down the hallway. Her vision blurs with frustrated tears, making the floor swim beneath her feet. 

J only makes it a few steps before warm arms wrap around her waist from behind, bringing her to an abrupt halt.

Caught between the instinct to flee and the desperate need to lean into that touch, something in J’s chest constricts as V's head presses between her shoulder blades. 

"Why do you even bother keeping me around?" The words spill out before she can stop them. "I'm so bad at this. I can't do anything right. I'm not worth the— the effort or the time or—"

Her voice breaks on a harsh sob, hands coming up to cover her face as shame burns through her circuits. She's making a scene, but she can't seem to stop the flood of self-loathing pouring from her vocoder.

V's grip tightens slightly, a frustrated grumble vibrating against J's back. "That's not true and you know it."

"But I—"

"No.” V cuts her off firmly. ”You are worth it, it’s just…” 

She sighs against her back, hot breath tickling stray hairs at the base of J’s neck. “Frustrating sometimes. We can't keep doing this dance where you only show up when you need something."

Defensive pride and crushing recognition war within her as V's words hit too close to a wound she's spent years pretending doesn't exist. 

The parallel burns—herself now, desperately seeking validation, as memories of standing in that pristine manor hallway flicker in her mind like rising smoke from a candle wick.

Straightening her bowtie, smoothing out her dress, licking her fingertips to tame a stray hair down for the hundredth time before bringing Tessa her morning tea in nervous, shaking hands that buzzed with electricity when warm skin brushed against them. 

"Thank you, Jaybird. You're such a sweetie."

All those careful gestures, the subtle ways she'd tried to show her devotion without crossing lines, and the subsequent casual dismissals that cut deeper than any physical wound. Not that Tessa had meant to be cruel–she'd always been so kind, treating J like a trusted friend rather than a servant. But that almost made it worse.

V's arms around her waist feel like an accusation as background processes spiral into old footage; echoes of laughter with visiting dignitaries, lines of suitors in stuffy suits and briefcases, the firm corrections of a piano instructor–J had hung onto every word while she stood in corners, invisible except when needed. 

J's fingers dig into her faceplate, trying to stem the flow of pixels from her display. She sniffles dismally. 

"I know what it's like," She whispers, the admission dragged from somewhere deep and painful. V’s embrace tightens slightly, and J has to fight the urge to squirm away from the gentleness she doesn't deserve.

"I never meant to make you feel like you were just… there. Available. I know how much that hurts. I just wanted…" 

She trails off. 

What did she want? To feel wanted? To matter? To not be alone with the echoing emptiness in her chest cavity?

V's grip shifts, and J fights the urge to lean back into that warmth. 

"You're not the only one who's scared," she mutters against her back. 

J's hands drop from her face, hovering uncertainly over the other’s arms. "I know I'm not—" She stops, wincing slightly, and recalibrates. 

"That's not an excuse. I've been… unprofessional. "

A harsh laugh vibrates her plating. "Unprofessional? Really? That's what you're going with?"

Heat floods J's face. Even now, she's falling back on buzzwords. It was a little embarrassing at this point. 

Still, it doesn’t deter her fingers from finally settling on V's forearms, tracing absent patterns as she struggles to find the right words.

"I don't know how to do this," she says in a small voice. The grip around her waist loosens, but doesn’t fully release, and J realizes just how pathetic and needy she must sound. 

"I mean—I understand if you'd prefer to terminate our… arrangement. Given my apparent inability to maintain appropriate boundaries—"

"Stop talking like a corporate handbook." 

J bristles. She's trying , isn't she? What more do they want from her? She already admitted she was wrong, already humiliated herself by breaking down like some child unit. 

"Would you prefer I speak in binary?" The words come out dripping with sarcasm as J’s hackles start to raise. "Because clearly my attempts at clear communication are so offensive —"

"There you go again," V sighs, but doesn't let go, loosely tracing the lines of J’s hips before letting her palms settle down more firmly. She hears a deep inhale behind her as V’s chin comes to lean against her shoulder, almost like her scent was something worth savoring. 

"I don't know how else to—" J clears her throat, suddenly feeling very nervous. "This isn't exactly covered in any management training modules."

V's quiet laugh sounds almost fond. Almost. 

"You really can't help yourself, can you?"

"I’m trying ," J insists with a soft whine. 

"Yeah, well." V's voice softens slightly, the touch of her hands burning through her plating like a brand. It makes it hard to concentrate on anything else. "You could try harder."

It still stings, but there's less venom in it now. J tries to parse the shift in her tone. Everything feels contradictory–the criticism versus the continued contact, the anger versus the gentleness.

"I…" J begins, casting her gaze to the floor. "About what I said earlier. I didn't mean—"

She cuts herself off, fists clenching and unclenching. 

"I shouldn't have implied… that wasn't…" Her language center keeps glitching, unable to form the right words, and professional vocabulary fails her completely. 

V's hands tense slightly. "Spit it out."

"You weren't taking advantage of me. I-I know that. I was just being… defensive. And cruel. I’m just– I don’t know how to deal with wanting…” 

Swallowing down a lump in her throat, V leans a little closer, their bodies pressed comfortably flushed. 

"Wanting what?" She asks gruffly, though there’s something else there. Something softer. 

"You." 

J can hear V’s breath hitch slightly. The implications were there, obviously but… it seemed so much more raw saying it out loud. 

"I wanted you. I still… I still want you. If you’ll have me.” 

The gentle weight of V's chin on her shoulder becomes almost unbearable as seconds tick by without response, and just as J starts to pull away, certain she's made yet another terrible mistake, she’s held in place.

"You're an idiot," V mutters. 

She feels her throat tighten. "I know."

Turning slowly in V's arms, she can feel herself thrumming with nervous energy as her shaking hands rise to cup V's face, thumbs tracing the delicate edges of her display. Her expression remains guarded, but there's a vulnerability in her optics that makes J's core ache. Behind that steely exterior, behind all the sharp edges and cutting remarks, she sees something achingly familiar—a desperate longing for connection that mirrors her own.

"I'm sorry," J whispers again, and she means it this time. 

A brief flash of uncertainty crosses her features. It's there in the slight tremor of her lower lip, the way her hands tighten almost imperceptibly on J's waist—a silent mantra that pleads love me, love me, love me .

With a soft brush of her thumb, J replies in earnest. 

I see you, I see you, I see you. 

For a moment, she's transported back to those quiet evenings in the manor's library, dust motes dancing in lamplight while they organized books and dusted shelves. V seems smaller somehow—or maybe J is the one who feels smaller. She’s not quite sure. As far as J is concerned, they’re both just… lost. 

Scared little workers holding each other close, trying to navigate something their programming never prepared them for.

J traces the curve of V's cheek, feeling the slight vibration of internal systems working beneath her chassis. Her eyes flutter half-closed at the touch. 

It feels like the first time she'd held a delicate teacup, terrified of breaking something precious.

When their lips meet, it's soft—softer than J thought V capable of being. There's none of their usual heat or desperation, just a gentle press that makes J's core clench with just how right it feels. 

Regret, longing, a burning, constricting need to make things right—If J can’t say it, she can at least show V how much she mattered to her. 

Her mouth is warm, still tasting faintly of gasoline and high octane fluid as J maps every curve and seam with careful attention, memorizing the way V's breath hitches when she deepens her ministrations ever so slightly. Not demanding, just… present. Connected.

Heat blooms in her chest like liquid sunlight. She can feel V's pulse thrumming beneath her palms, quick and steady. 

I’m sorry , each brush of her lips whispers. I'm here. 

V's hands slide up her back, pulling her impossibly closer as she melts into her with another needier sound.

Okay. I trust you. 

Breaking away for a moment, J’s breath comes in short bursts, fans whirring as she tries to cool her  systems. But before she can fully recalibrate, V's hands tangle in her pigtails and pull her back in.

This kiss is different—deeper, hungrier. V's mouth is scorching and it makes J's knees weak as she’s arched into. 

Closer. 

J whines. 

Her hands find V's waist, fingers digging into the soft silicone there as she walks them backward until V's spinal strut hits the wall with a soft thud . 

Tail moving on its own accord, it wraps around the other’s in a sinuous dance that makes them both shudder. V gasps against her mouth and J swallows it in a quaff, pressing closer until there's no space left between them. 

Serpentine appendages squeeze tighter together, canisters clinking against one another with quiet tinks . The wall creaks slightly as J presses harder, desperate to get closer. 

Yes , she thinks hazily as V's tongue slides into her mouth. This. Just this.

A powerful thigh slots between J’s legs, and she sucks in a sharp breath, her hips bucking involuntarily. 

“V…” she breathes. 

V's answering growl vibrates against her throat. Robo-god, she could so easily give in, let this girl take her apart piece by piece until she forgets her own name. 

Her body certainly wants to. 

But…

"Wait," J manages to puff out, placing a trembling hand on V's chest. 

Immediately, she stills—though J can feel the tension thrumming through her frame. 

“What's wrong?" 

"Nothing's wrong, I just…" J takes a shuddering breath, trying to organize her scattered thoughts. V's confusion is evident in the tilt of her head. 

"Let me take you out first," She says finally, reaching up to trace her lower lip.

“Huh…?”

"L-like I did with the others. I… want to do this right. N-Not just because I'm lonely or scared or— or needing something from you."

J notices the disappointment in V’s face before she probably even does, but she presses forward anyways, hoping to at least not fall flat on her face trying to explain herself at least once tonight. 

"I could—" 

It’s awfully hard to concentrate on forming coherent sentences when a pretty girl’s leg is still pressing into your crotch, J’s come to notice lately. 

"I could take you somewhere nice," J blurts out. "Somewhere with— with proper ambiance and…and maybe after we could…"

She trails off. Everything sounds too clinical or too crude in her head. How do people do this?

“Are you suggesting some kind of team building exercise?"

The teasing lilt in her voice makes J's core stutter. She knows V is trying to give her an out—let her save face, retreat back to safer, more comfortable territory. 

"A date," she forces out, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her blazer. "I'm asking you on a date. With... with romantic intentions."

Gulping loudly, J winces, awkwardly shifting on her pegs: "And potentially more… indulgent ones afterwards if you're amenable but that's not— I mean, there's no pressure or expectations—"

"J."

"—and I completely understand if you'd prefer to maintain our current arrangement—"

" J. "

"—or terminate it entirely—"

V's hand comes up to cover her mouth, effectively stopping the stream of anxious babbling. J's eyes go wide.

"You suck at this.”

There’s a muffled sound of protest against V's palm. 

When her hand finally drops, her fingers trail down to rest at J’s collar. "I’m not really into all that fancy stuff..." V drawls. 

J’s mouth opens, then closes. She has a point.

"I just thought…” J begins, fidgeting nervously. “Don't you want something… special?"

A soft but fond snort follows. 

“If you really want to spend time together, I could use a sparring partner."  She says, playing with J's tie. "Been getting a little rusty lately."

“I—"

Caught off guard by the suggestion, J blinks, raising an inquisitive brow. "You want to spar ? With me ?"

"Unless you're scared I'll kick your ass." V's smirk is teasing, poking the squishy silicone making up her tummy. "All that desk work making you soft?”

"I am not scared, and I am certainly not—," J bristles automatically, then pauses. "Oh. You're… making a joke."

"Half joke." 

J considers this. It's not what she had in mind, but…

"I… guess … my combat protocols could use some… updating… ” 

"That's the spirit." V's smile widens. "So... is that a yes?"

"To... sparring?" J asks carefully.

"To the date , dummy."

"Oh! Yes. I mean—" 

Straightening her posture, she puffs out her chest lightly "Yes, that would be…... acceptable."

V rolls her eyes. "You're hopeless."

Before J can protest, she speaks again. 

"It's kind of cute, actually.” 

Her usual repertoire of responses—deflection, sarcasm, dismissal—all seem inadequate in the face of such direct affection. The wall behind V seems impossibly interesting as she struggles to form words that don't sound like they came from an employee handbook.

"Can I just…" She starts, arms lifting slightly before dropping back to her sides. 

Why is this so hard? 

"Would it be okay if…"

Softening almost imperceptibly, V tilts her head. 

"I want…" J swallows harder this time. "Can I hug you?” 

She feels ridiculous asking, like some newly-activated unit seeking comfort. But V doesn't mock her. Instead, she opens her arms with an awkward clearing of her throat.

"C’mere, corpo."

J practically stumbles forward, wrapping her arms around V's middle. It's clumsy at first—too tight, then too loose, neither quite sure where to put their hands. But then V's arms settle around her shoulders and everything just... clicks.

Burying her face in V's neck, she breathes in, relaxing into a sense of comfort that makes her eyes start to sting. This is nice. Different. 

"This okay?" V mumbles against her hair, sounding almost as uncertain as J feels.

Nodding, J not trusting her voice. Her fingers curl into the back of V's jacket as she holds on just a little tighter. Her usual racing thoughts begin to quiet, replaced by a warm sense of contentment she hasn't felt in…

Well… she supposes she’s actually felt rather happy as of late. 

—

The door hisses shut behind J with a soft pneumatic sigh, and, exhaling loudly, she leans back against the cool metal, letting her head thunk gently against it. 

Her fingers drift up to touch her lips, still tingling from V's kisses. The memory makes her core flutter in a way that should be embarrassing, but somehow isn't. Not really anymore.

A quiet laugh bubbles up from her chest, surprising even herself. She feels lighter somehow, like she could float up to her rafters without even engaging her wings.

She’s tired, sure, but it’s the kind of tired that comes after completing a particularly challenging task, or finishing a complex repair job. Satisfying.

Her internal diagnostic runs automatically, checking for errors or malfunctions to explain the strange sensation—but everything comes back normal. Better than normal, actually—her stress levels are lower than they've been in weeks.

Pushing off from where she stands, J makes her way to her desk on slightly unsteady legs. Her reflection catches her eye in the small mirror there. It’s still her. 

"Huh," she murmurs to herself, touching her cheek where she can still feel the ghost of V's fingers.

Unfurling her feathers, she drifts upward, settling into her usual perch in the rafters. She lets her legs dangle as she situates herself, staring at the floor below. 

It had been tempting to stay— so tempting—when V's hands had lingered on her waist before they parted. But something about tumbling into bed together felt… wrong. She didn’t want to cheapen or contradict what they’d talked about with a quick lay. 

J hugs her knees to her chest, allowing a small smile in the darkness. For the first time since… well, since Tessa, really… she feels something like hope fluttering in her core. Not the desperate kind that comes from clinging to simulations and memories, but something real . Something… growing.  

Something worth nurturing.

Chapter Text

Wings unfurled and antigrav thrusters rumbling over the wind, bladed feathers catch drafts underneath her as she cuts through the storm.

The gales howl between abandoned buildings as her destination—a now defunct maintenance yard—stretches before her, a grave of scrapped machinery and twisted metal. A crack of lightning across the sky illuminates ice-crusted chain link fences and the skeletal frames of old construction equipment.

Fresh powder crunches underneath her as she lands, snow swirling around in eddies. The storm intensifies, static electricity crackling across her plating. Through the whiteout, a solitary lamppost rises like a sentinel, its ancient metal groaning under the assault of the elements. Her breath catches. 

Perched like a gargoyle on the curved neck of the light, V's silhouette cuts a deadly figure against the turbulent sky. The fur trim of her coat whips dramatically in the wind, silver hair gleaming with each new flash of lightning. 

One hand grips the pole casually, claws extended just enough to bite into the metal.

She looks absolutely lethal—a perfect killing machine framed by nature's fury. The way she holds herself, balanced effortlessly despite the height and weather, displays every deadly curve and edge of her chassis.

Stars , she's gorgeous like this. Terrifying and beautiful in equal measure. J's fingers twitch at her sides.

“Yo!” V calls over the wind, deploying her wings. With a fluid motion, she bounds off her perch, tail uncoiling from where it wraps around the post to light down onto the ground next to her. 

“Uh. Hi.” J offers a short, awkward wave, Her hand not rising above her side. “Weather made my nav systems fritz. I hope I’m not late.” 

“Nah,” she replies, stretching her arms over her head. “I honestly don’t think you’re physically capable of being late anyhow.”

A date. This is… technically a date. With V. In the middle of a maintenance yard. During a snowstorm. To fight each other.

Her motherboard strains to categorize this properly.

"So," J manages. “Standard rules? Or did you want to—" 

"Mmm. Guess so." V rolls her shoulders, the motion is hypnotic . "No permanent damage. First pin wins." Her tail flicks playfully. "Unless you're feeling adventurous."

"I, uh— standard is fine." Her voice comes out surprisingly steady. "Wouldn't want to explain extra damage reports to your convoy lead.” 

V’s laugh cuts through the storm, rich and genuine. "Always the responsible one." 

"Someone has to be," J manages, shifting her weight between her feet. The snow crunches beneath her, giving her something to focus on besides the way V's tail keeps curling and uncurling, giving her a once over like she’s sizing her up. 

"T-Though I guess showing up for a sparring session in this weather isn't exactly responsible…” she continues, suddenly acutely aware of her gaze burning into her. 

"Nope." V grins, popping the 'p' sound. "But hey, you came anyway."

"Yeah, well." J rubs the back of her neck, a habit she's picked up from N. "Better than sitting in my room overthinking everything."

"Oh?" V tilts her head, snowflakes catching in her silver hair. "And what exactly have you been overthinking?"

Everything. You. Us. Whatever this is.

"Just… stuff." J waves vaguely at the space between them, immediately regretting the gesture. "Work stuff. And. You know."

"Mhm." V's expression softens just slightly, enough that J almost thinks she imagined it. "Well, lucky for you, I know a great way to stop thinking."

She drops into a fighting stance, but it's loose, playful. Nothing like their previous confrontations.

J finds herself mirroring the pose, a small smile tugging at her mouth despite herself. "Yeah? And what's that?"

“Oh, I don’t know…” 

Her grin flashes like the lightning crackling across the sky. "Getting your butt handed to you usually does the trick."

Rolling her shoulders, J sidesteps slightly, finding comfort in the familiar position as they begin circling each other. The maintenance yard becomes their arena, footsteps marking parallel tracks in the fresh sleet.

This—this she knows.

Her targeting system tracks V's movements automatically, cataloging the minute shifts in her opponent's weight distribution, the almost imperceptible tells in her chassis alignment. The wind howls between them, driving ice crystals against her plating with stinging force while thunder rolls overhead. 

"You're awfully confident for someone who lost their leg last time," J says, tracking V's careful circling. Her wings, still extended, flex unconsciously, bladed feathers fanning out in an instinctive display.

V's tail lashes behind her in a predatory swish that sends snow scattering. "That was different," she purrs. "I wasn't trying to get your clothes off then."

"That's—that's not what this is about," J sputters quickly, stance widening as she protracts her claws with a sharp rasp. 

"No?" She giggles darkly, lips curling further until the grin splits her faceplace. Her fangs catch the moonlight, glinting as they reflect the rays. "Could've fooled me."

Sheets of ice drive between them, lightning splintering through the clouds—and for a split second, as the sky goes dark, V's silhouette disappears completely.

A whistle of wind hisses behind her. Faster—deadlier than the rushing gales of the storm. Through her auxiliary eyes, J catches a flash of yellow.  

Their hulls clash with a resounding clang that echoes off the surrounding buildings when J catches a strike aimed at her midsection, catching V’s wrist in her claws and using the momentum to fling her away. 

V skids to a halt a few yards away, dragging deep track marks in her wake. 

"That was dirty," J growls, flexing her claws as hail pelts against her. The sound of iris doors sliding open accompanies the deployment of V’s blades, gleaming, hungry for contact. 

"Whatcha gonna do about it, Boss? "

Before she can retort, V launches forward again, both swords singing through the air. J sidesteps, deflecting a blade with her forearm while ducking under the other.

"Sloppy," J growls, though her core hums with excitement. This dance—their dance—brings back memories of countless sparring sessions during their hunting days. V feints left before striking right, slashing through the air. J parries with another metallic rasp.

“Amateur.” 

Crash. V coils back like a serpent, teeth bared. She lunges again. Deflecting once more, J snaps backwards to avoid the stinger at the end of V’s tail that whips forward. 

“Telegraphed.” 

Bang! 

Her internal systems flag the movement as an intentional opening—V is playing with her. 

Readouts flash across J's HUD, the thrill of battle spreading through her chassis like liquid fire. Her targeting systems paint V's form in infrared, highlighting weak points and predicting movement patterns.

Metal scrapes against metal as V's blades slice through the space where J's head had been fraction of a second before, and J drops low, sweeping her leg out in a precise arc. 

Making a choked noise, V catches herself on one hand, twisting like a cat to land in a low crouch and lunging outward. J meets her charge head-on, bodies colliding with enough force to send a small shockwave reverberating through the air that displaces a puff of snow.

A particularly vicious swipe catches J across her midsection. She hisses, more from surprise than pain, retaliating with a precise strike that nearly catches V's throat. She dodges by a hair's breadth, the movement causing her to slip back on the icy ground.

"Getting tired?" J taunts, chest heaving. 

V responds with a feral grin, her visor flickering into a dangerous cross pattern. She circles J like a wolf, joints whirring smoothly as she searches for an opening. "You wish."

Their next collision sends them both sliding across the ice-slicked ground, sparks flying violently. 

Her opponent flows like mercury, each strike precise yet unpredictable as they trade blows that would shred through lesser machines. Metal screeches as their claws lock together, and V's face hovers inches from J’s own, obscured by a world painted in red, blue and yellow from infrared thermography.

With a shrill, hydraulic hiss, their wings deploy near simultaneously, and they launch themselves upward.

V fights like a demon possessed, claws unfurled, hackles raised, teeth bared. J parries a sharp blow to her side, hooking her leg around the other’s thigh to twist them midair as they spiral higher, higher, higher until, like mated eagles locked in their courtship dive, they reach an apex. 

Hovering for a split second at the peak of their ascent, they sit suspended, thunder booming between flashes of lightning strikes. She can feel the heat radiating from their proximity, radiating from their forms with an intensity hot enough to instantly reduce flying shards of ice to water droplets.  

Then gravity reasserts itself.

“Going down.” V challenges, and J lets a smirk tug at her lips. With a single motion, she disables her antigrav, locking her wings and gracefully allowing herself to fall backward, plummeting toward the earth below. 

The world spins as they continue their desperate grapple, wind velocity screaming in J’s aurals as the hail hits her exposed chassis with rapid, successive tinks. All she can focus on right now is V—the flash of her eyes, the arc of her sword—the way she makes fighting feel like dancing .

They hit the ground hard enough to crater the frozen earth, snow exploding outward from the impact. When the haze clears, J is on top of her, pinning V by her chest with a clawed hand as it heaves with rasping pants. 

"Yield," J manages to say between breaths.

V's response is a low, dangerous purr. "Oh yeah?” 

Before J can process the warning, a tail wraps around her calf and yanks .

Her vision tilts again as V flips their positions, and suddenly J finds herself flat on her back, staring up at a triumphant smirk. Her weight straddles her hips, one blade pressed against J's throat while the other hand presses against her chin, angling it up roughly with her palm. 

"Gotcha,” she growls, way too satisfied for J's dignity. 

The grip on her chin tightens, forcing her head back further to expose more of her neck, and J whimpers, eliciting a dark, pleased chuckle. 

"V…" she manages weakly. 

"Shh," she rumbles back, trailing the flat of her blade along her jawline. "Good girls stay quiet."

Her tail writhes helplessly in the snow beneath them, and J has to bite back another pathetic sound. She feels exposed, vulnerable—and worst of all, she kind of likes that.

An animalistic snarl tears through J’s throat, thrashing futilely in a final attempt to shake her, but V bears down, shoving her back against the rough, icy concrete.

“ Down.” 

Almost involuntarily, J feels herself limpen beneath V's weight, claws retracting as her wings flop submissively at either of her sides.  

Submit . That deep, basal coding purrs. Show your belly. Be good. 

She tilts her head back further, exposing more of her neck, and the edge of V’s blade is pushed down just hard enough to make J gasp.

"I-I yielded already," she manages shakily, though she makes no move to actually escape. "You don't have to— ah—!” 

Shifting, V grinds down against her hips in a way that makes her vision blur. 

"What was that about being sloppy?" V croons, leaning down until their visors are barely touching. Her free hand traces along J's jaw almost tenderly, contrary to the deadly edge still ghosting along her plating. 

“I wasn't— nnngh! ” She gasps as V's thumb brushes across her bottom lip. "This isn't… standard sparring conduct…”

"Are you complaining?" 

The vibration sends a shudder down J's spine as she speaks, tracing a line down J's throat just hard enough to leave a thin scratch in the paint. "Because I can stop…"

"Don't you dare," J gasps before she can stop herself, then flushes hot with mortification. 

Robo-god, that sounded pathetic. 

”Do what?" V's fangs graze J's audial. 

Lifting her saber, the missing pressure is replaced by the scrape of fangs. 

"I-I don’t know…" She's not even sure what she's begging for. J just needs… something. Everything. J can feel V's hunger, her own need building hot, hot, hot in her core like a supernova. 

Crunch.

"V!" J cries out, back arching sharply as those deadly teeth work into her shoulder. Her claws extend and retract spasmodically, scratching deep, shaky furrows into the permafrost before letting them fly up to clutch desperately at V's shoulders. 

Biting down harder, the cry devolves into a long, whining moan as a hot spill of oil from the wound makes her tremble violently. 

" Mmpf— " She buries her face against V's shoulder, inhaling deeply, gasping, grasping for anything she can reach, salivating shamelessly through pants punctuated by breathless whines. 

She’s dimly aware she's babbling, but over the roar of their engines and the scraping of metal on metal as V is humped feverishly from below, J can't bring herself to care.

Lips caught next in a bruising kiss, J eagerly lets V pry open her mouth with her tongue, clenching her eyes shut between muffled sounds J wouldn’t dare admit left her throat. 

More, more, more.

—

“Yo, we’re home!” V echoes out into the apartment, brushing a snowflake off of her jacket on her way in. 

J stumbles through the doorway in tow, desperately trying to smooth down her rumpled dress. Her face is on fire —yellow, burning blush across her visor threatening to seep in and color her faceplate. 

She can still feel the sting of residual bite marks on her chassis, smeared oil stains marking her collar where hasty cleaning couldn't quite reach. 

V's satisfied smirk widens, which is steadfastly ignored with an embarrassed scowl. 

Idiot. I hate you. 

No, no you don’t. 

“About time, we’ve been waiting to start this movie for like, hours!” 

“We” being dumb and dumber sprawled out across the couch, Uzi’s gangly limbs tossed over N’s hull like someone was trying to take him away from her. 

He grunts as the smaller drone lifts herself up from her position, supporting her full weight on her palm against his chest to peer over the backing. Then, with another uncomfortable noise, Uzi uses her poor boyfriend as a stepstool to clamber over, hopping to the floor with a soft thump. 

N’s head pokes up next following Uzi’s first footsteps forward, offering a bright smile and a wave. “Heya, friends! You two have fun?” 

”Y-Yeah,” J squeaks, hating how nervous she sounded, core pounding against her ribcage giddily. She avoids eye contact, fingers shaking while she works at a particularly stubborn button. 

"Here," Uzi offers as she approaches, reaching toward J's midriff before pausing. "Can I?"

Blinking, J cocks her head. Thats…

Oddly… considerate…

Swallowing down a lump in her throat, she glances to the side awkwardly, lifting her hands. 

"I… I guess…?” 

Careful digits make quick work of straightening J's shirt, the gentle touch sending pleasant tingles through her chest. J finds herself leaning into the contact before she can stop herself. 

"V must've really put you through your paces, huh?" Uzi teases softly, smoothing down J's rumpled dress. 

J's tail lashes agitatedly as she watches V nod with a smug, "Mhm," making her face burn hotter.

"Both of you shut up," J mutters, though she can’t put any heat behind her tone. 

When Uzi finishes with a gentle pat to her midsection, J finds herself unconsciously pressing closer, a soft rumbling chuff escaping her throat before she can stop it. The sound is unmistakably pleased—like a content big cat greeting its trusted handler.

Horror floods her systems the instant she realizes, and, jerking backward with a mortified squeak, she claps both hands over her mouth in embarrassment. 

Oh robo-god oh no oh what the hell was that

A rich chuckle cuts through her panic. J turns to V, who shoots her a sidelong glance, and with a fluid motion, she smirks, turning back and sauntering with a deliberate languity toward the worker. 

Tail upright, curved and vibrating, V nudges the top of Uzi’s head with her cheek. She lets out her own series of rumbly warbles, pressing against her until she’s earned a laugh, and a set of fingers carding through her silvery bob. 

“Yeah yeah, okay, get off me, stupid.” 

V snickers as Uzi shoves her off with a decent effort, purple optics rolling playfully as she shakes her head with a smile. “Go lay down.” 

Watching in morbid fascination, J stares as V practically prances to the couch, affectionately headbutting N before curling up beside him. It catches her equally off guard when her hand is suddenly taken, breath hitching in her throat. 

"C‘mon," Uzi says, giving an encouraging tug. "You’re gonna love this one."

J doesn’t even remember agreeing to a movie night—until the painfully ironic memory of N’s voice, and the ghosts of hands kneading her back flood into her tanks unbidden.

Crack.

“Mmnn…” 

“Ooh, rough one! That must’ve felt nice, huh!” 

“Mhm…”

“Anyways, like I was saying, Zi said she found another VHS in the city today.”

“Uh huh…”

“…Watched it…dying to show you…something something something, I’m dumb but I’m strong and handsome and my fingers make you feel like your IQ’s dropped into the single digits.” 

“Yuh…”

Uuuuuuuugh. Stupid. Stupid, Stupid. 

This is fine. It’s just a movie. Just a good old fashioned night in with your… Whatevers .

Stiffly, J situates herself onto the upholstery with a soft creak of springs, gaze following Uzi intently as she breaks away from J’s hand to sandwich her way between N and V’s embrace—to which she is quickly accommodated for. 

Someone hits play on the remote, and J realizes with dawning dread as the lights dim that she's actually going to have to sit through this whole thing while still buzzing from earlier.

V’s arm slings itself over the back of the couch, nestling her companions closer. They’re quiet—for the most part—aside from the constant low rumble of purrs and the occasional share of a soft murmur. 

In her peripherals, N angles out his side almost invitingly, as if the space next to the three of them was intentionally being left open. 

J clears her throat, attempting once more to focus on the grainy video—though, she can’t parse the plot over the sound of her own very loud, UNHELPFUL THOUGHTS. 

It would be so easy to just…

Stop it…

Grimacing, J glances away. 

Don’t…

With agonizing slowness, J shifts a microscopic increment closer. 

Hey… No! Bad J. 

Another awkward, stilted scoot closer to the group.

Are you even listening right now? Hellooo? 

She finally feels N’s hip press against her own and instinctively, J tenses, hands clasped together neatly in her lap while going about as rigid as a board. 

There’s no tease that follows the dramatic display, simply another shift, allowing her to nestle further in. 

If she wanted. 

Which, well…

Robo-Jury’s still out on that one. 

…but…

At least for… right now, as awkward as she regrettably knows she looks, after the day she’s had this is a… comfortable distance for her. She could only handle so much touching before she could feel it in her teeth. 

Still, J can’t help the dopey grin she can’t seem to wipe off her face the rest of the night. 

Chapter Text

Fingers flex, twisting, curling, balling the sheets into fistfuls punctuated by the sound of open mouthed gasps. V's hands rest on her shoulders, steadying J’s form as desperate movements rock her whole frame from between her legs. 

"Gentle, buddy.” Uzi lilts, voice muffled from where she presses into her boyfriend’s back. She giggles as he whines eagerly, hips stuttering as he forces himself to slow down. 

“Here, lift her leg up like—yeah theeere we go…"

With the assistance of a smaller pair of hands, his trembling grip is relocated to J’s thighs, squeezing the hazard stripes marking the absolute territory stripped bare from her blazer. She groans as her knees are angled open wider, pegs suspended in the air. 

The sound of metal on metal rasps, and J has to suck in a breath—biting back a noise caught between a sob and a moan as N continues his rut. 

From where her head rests on V’s lap, she allows herself to go limp, lulling her neck to the side to punctuate every beautiful, rhythmic creak of the bedframe with a rewarding gasp. 

“N-gh—!” He chokes out, simulated sweat droplets beading along his brow. 

He clenches his eyes shut, gritting his teeth as the pressure of Uzi behind him keeps him firmly situated against the apex of her pelvic cradle. J makes a similarly strangled yelp, vaguely aware of yet much too stimulated to really care just how debaucherous she looks splayed out in front of her squadron like some sort of… some sort of hussy.

Her back arches helplessly, casting a lazy arm over her visor to shield her face in embarrassment as her vocoder mewls at a pitch she wasn’t aware she was capable of making. She squirms, other hand pressing down into her core, frantically trying to relieve the pressure building up, up, up, every circuit in her body revelling in the undivided attention and singing with fire while she’s ground into again and again and again and oh, yes please robo-god use me use me use me love me love me lov—

Snapping back into reality with a jolt, J barely registers her hand slipping from beneath her chin, forehead nearly colliding with her work desk before she catches herself at the last second, blinking rapidly. Office fans hum overhead alongside old fluorescent strip lighting. 

It’s still mustier down here than she’d care for it to be. Oh well. 

Her current pile of reports she’s supposed to be finalizing lies forgotten beneath her, serving more appropriately as a pillow than for its intended purpose.

She shifts in her chair, clearing her throat before placing her hands on top of her table and clasping them together. Jill stares at her from across the room, brows knit in both confusion and concern over the brim of her coffee cup.

“You uh… you good there?” 

“I—I, Yeah. N-No everythings—“ J nearly stumbles over herself as she gathers up her papers, pretending somehow her coworker didn’t just witness her falling asleep at her desk in favor of shameless maladaptive daydreaming. ”Everything’s fine.” 

“Are you sure? You look tired.” 

“Yep. A-okay.” J pats her desk reassuringly. The oak echoes with a hollow smack in the brief awkward silence. 

”Just uh… up… late. With… “

Please don’t say anything stupid. 

“Um. Cramps.”

No, Her processor supplies unhelpfully over her blatant lie. You just finished your monthly data cycling. The only cramps you had were from staying up past your bedtime playing idiot sandwich with the second situationship you’ve had in twenty years because you’re sad and lonely. 

J was always so full of very smart decisions that sometimes she even surprises herself. 

"Ah. Been there. Need me to grab you anything?” Comes the response, followed by the soft squeaking of wheels as Jill slides out of her spot. 

With an instinctive dismissal, J waves her hand. “No, No it’s fine.” 

“Are you sure?”

“I said I’m fine—“ J bristles slightly, then stops, snapping her mouth shut with an audible click. “Nothing’s bothering me.” 

Her coworker sets down her coffee, unconvinced. J slumps back in her chair, supporting her head against her hands for a brief moment to pull back her bangs along her hairline. She feels a gaze boring into her from where she presses her palms into her optics, letting out a soft trill through her lips. 

“Just… a little stressed.” 

“Why don't you take five with me? You look like you could use a breather."

J mulls this over for a minute, a refusal dying on her tongue as she decides almost a little too quickly that the air in her office is suddenly much heavier than she could stand to be in right now.

Sighing, she closes her eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah okay. Just let me sign off on this real quick.”

—

The hallway outside the management cubicle is dim and dingy, the smell of wet mildew clinging to every surface surrounding the walls and pipes overhead. 

A small light flickers just shy from where they stand, illuminating a dilapidated vending machine that casts a harsh blue glow in its vicinity. 

Punching in a few buttons and tapping her rations card against the reader, Jill’s 5th caffeinated beverage of the afternoon lazily slides forward and clanks into the dispenser tray. 

She crouches down, rummaging through the flap and producing a small can, which she cracks open and takes a sip. 

Digits tap against J’s thigh as she debates whether to get something for herself, eventually giving in with a defeated grumble. She inserts her own card and selects the crudely, recently included ‘OIL’ option on the menu. 

“Sooo…” She starts with a prodding look, which J makes a point of avoiding for as long as the convenient distraction of retrieving sustenance would allow. 

“Do I have to guess again, or are you actually gonna tell me what’s on your mind?”

Jill leans against the wall while J mirrors her previous movements, puncturing her container with the provided straw. 

"I said it was nothing," 

"Uh-huh. And I'm Khan Doorman."

"That would be quite the plot twist."

"Come on, J. You've been out of it all week! Sleeping on the job, missing deadlines… we both know that’s not you…” 

It wasn’t that bad. Sure, J may have been dragging her feet a little on some odd jobs lately, but it wasn’t enough of a crime to warrant an intervention this early in the day, was it? 

She just… had a lot to think about. It’s made things hard to focus. 

Upon the predictable hesitation, Jill crosses her arms over her chest, twirling her wrist expectantly. 

The vending machine stuff was always a little on the stale side. It leaves an aftertaste of pennies on her tongue. 

Ugh. 

“… Okay,” J starts defeatedly, glancing over her shoulder and shifting from peg to peg, waving vaguely as if the gesture might somehow clarify things.

“Do… you… remember that…hypothetical situation I…discussed with you a couple weeks ago?” 

"You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“You know, the one about... workplace boundaries and... interpersonal dynamics…?”

"The… totally theoretical office romance issue that definitely wasn't about you?" Jill’s lips quirk up in a teasing smile.

"It wasn't—" 

Another exhale. "I—Fine. Yes. That one." 

With a soft tink her finger catches on the tab of her drink, fiddling with it until she can twist it off the hinge and flick it into the garbage on the other side of the corridor.

"There may have been some... developments. In regards to… that.”

Her mouth hovers just shy of her straw, trying to not so subtly guide it closer with her tongue before eventually deciding she’s already made herself look dumb enough today. 

“Like… What kind of developments?”  Jill asks. 

J spits out her oil.

“I'm not seeing anyone!" She says on instinct, then falters as the worker drone next to her watches J process the giant, Freudian-shaped banana peel she just slipped on in real time. 

"We're just... exploring... compatibilities. Nothing else.” 

“ …Compatibilities ," 

"I-It sounds worse when you say it."

"How should I say it then?”

Making a frustrated noise, J crushes her empty can in her grip. "I don't know!”

"Maybe start with who we're talking about?"

"W-Well, I’d rather not specify individuals but—“

Like a nervous dog, J can only bring herself to shoot her a look through a sidelong glance. She sets her shoulders, rolling them slightly before angling her chin upward. 

…Oh, what the hell. She’s already been caught. J figures now is a good time as any to spill the tea —or whatever the hell it’s called these days. She’s stopped trying after one too many failed attempts at being hip with the kids —which apparently sounds lame too, according to Uzi, at least. With a sigh, she slumps against the wall next to her coworker.

”I- I may have also been exploring… other avenues. Alongside this… happenstance. And it’s made things… weird.”

“J!”

“What!?” 

“You mean like… a side piece? —“ 

"Robo-God no, what kind of person do you think I am? They're all—" J winces, hearing her voice growing smaller with each word.  "I mean... everyone involved is... aware. Of each other." 

"Wait, 'they're all'? As in..." Jill pauses. "Wait, wait, wait, back up. How many people are we talking about here?"

"That's... not… “

She clamps a hand over her visor, as if that might somehow hide the incriminating yellow flush burning up her face—unable to stop the way her core hammers against her ribcage while the rationality of her consciousness grapples with the very irrational teenager inside her who wants to gush about her first kiss behind the bleachers. 

“…Three. There’s three of them.” 

“ Three?” 

"I-I don’t know! I just—Guh! One minute I’m—I’m trying to be professional and civil like you said, and the next I'm…” 

“… Feeling things."

Something shifts in the worker’s expression.

“… Feelings aren't the end of the world, you know." 

“Easy to say when you’re married with kids.” J scoffs—then hunches slightly. 

“I-I can’t even explain it, It's like running too many processes at once. My systems keep overheating and I can't even look at any of them without feeling like something’s about to go haywire and now it’s interfering with my career and—"

"Breathe, J.” Jill interrupts gently— and J concedes with a shuddering exhale, looking uncharacteristically vulnerable. On her next breath in, Jill follows suit. 

“Okay,” She starts, deliberate and cautious. “So, just to get this straight, you’re in a relatio—“

“A business arrangement.”

”Fine, You’re currently in a business arrangement with someone.” 

“I-I guess,”

“And that business arrangement now has extended to two other consenting parties?” 

“S-sort of?—I-I mean! Yes! Yes to…to the last part. About the—consent… stuff…and, yeah...” 

“…And this has something to do with the coworkers you were mentioning some… boundary problems with a few weeks ago?” 

"Well they’re… they’re not actually coworkers .” J corrects quickly. “S-Since that would be a breach of my contract agreement, I just said that because I—“ 

Because what? Because she has this weird, infuriating compulsion to default back to stupid corporate handbook vocabulary whenever she was uncomfortable? Because the concept of acknowledging any of this beyond the realm of J’s La La Land would somehow will it more into existence than it already is? Becaus—Stop it. Shut up. 

“T-That’s besides my point.” J says, spitefully ignoring the buzzing in her head. "They're my…“ 

Wince. 

“My flatmates.”

"Flatmates," Jill repeats skeptically. "With benefits?"

“Don't—don't call it that!" she hisses back, ducking her head as if someone might overhear them. "It's... complicated.”

The fluorescent light above them flickers, casting strange shadows on the wall. J watches them dance. 

“Doesn’t help any that they were already... involved ...with each other before I..." 

She desperately wishes she could crawl into the nearest filing cabinet and die.

“...Joined the merger.” 

Jill clicks her tongue, chewing on the knuckle of her index finger. “Huh.” 

Letting out a strangled laugh somewhere between self-deprecating and genuine distress, she runs her hand through her bangs while humiliation sizzles in her chest like a sad firecracker.

“... Yeah.” 

“Well… are you happy? ” 

“It’s… tolerable.”

"Interesting answer.” 

An itchy feeling blooms just underneath the casing of her hull at the inquiry. J feels like she’s been gutted enough this week that the idea of another game of twenty questions might make her physically nauseous. 

"Well it's the only one you're getting," 

“Fair enough.” Jill shrugs, holding her hands out in mock-surrender as J crunches the canister in her grasp, flattening it into a compact disc shape and tossing it in the bin nearby. 

"Listen.” She warns with an anxious crack in her vocoder. "I-I have a reputation to maintain, and I would… appreciate it if–” 

That awful scratchy sensation returns when the idea of someone on the outside finding out about J’s certain pastimes off the clock worms its way into her mind. What would they think? Cold, professional, efficient J is... is...

A desperate, touch-starved lap dog who can't handle basic social interaction without freaking out and resorting to office speak? 

"Hey,” Jill says gently, but J barely hears it over the static in her head. ”Your secret's safe with me," 

—Who lets herself be pinned down and marked up like some kind of—

Shush. 

“Thanks.” 

The quiet is uncomfortable. J hates it. 

"Well, speaking of reputation—those quarterly reports aren't going to file themselves." J says quickly, making a show of straightening herself out while Jill steals another glance up. 

Exhale.

“…R-Right. Unless you need more time to...?" 

Something in her chest tightens. There's more she could say. Should say, maybe. But J's never been good at putting feelings into words. Especially not the messy, complicated ones that frankly she would rather not think about anymore.

Besides, Jill's already doing more than enough, covering for her recent... distractions. The least she can do is pull her weight with the paperwork.

So instead of spilling her guts about love and fear and redemption, J builds her walls back up. 

"No, no. I should get back." 

Her tail thwaps against the wall in an arrhythmic pattern, filling the gaps between conversation. Jill doesn't press further, which is something J appreciates about her. She knows when to back off, unlike certain other people in her life who seem determined to bulldoze through every emotional barrier she's ever constructed.

"I’m swamped today, anyways. Khan's team sent over those requisition forms from last week's tunnel collapse and it’s a mess."

"Need a hand with those?" Jill offers–partly, J assumes, out of obligation and partly because diving into paperwork sounds like heaven compared to continuing the previous line of thought. 

"Nah, I've got it. It might just be a late night." She replies, rubbing her neck. "The new intake coordinator doesn't know how to fill out a basic supply form to save his life."

J makes a mental note to follow up on that. Maybe some remedial training is in order. Or threatening. Threatening usually works faster.

They start walking back toward the office. 

It's…strange having someone know about her... situation . Someone outside of it, anyway. Not that she'd told Jill everything. Robo-God no.

Maybe she should get business cards made. "Serial Designation J: Project Manager, Crisis Coordinator, and Reluctant Participant in a Polyamorous Relationship." That would save her some explaining next time.

Ugh, why does she keep thinking about this? Paperwork. Professional thoughts only. Starting now.

…Three ? She'd said three ? Out loud ? Great. Perfect. 

She really needs to get better at keeping her mouth shut. Or at least not rambling to her assistant manager of all people.

Stop it. Enough. 

There's a comfortable pause that settles between them. J reaches for the door but hesitates.

“Hey.” 

The next words feel… strange in her mouth. 

"Thanks for... listening and stuff.” 

Jill stops. 

Smiles.

“Anytime,” Her tone is carefully optimistic. "I really hope things work out for you, J.” 

As much as she’d hate to admit it, under everything, there’s something weirdly nice about having someone in her corner. J feels herself flush again. 

"Y-Yeah. Well. We'll see."

With a quick nod, she retreats back into her office sanctuary, already plotting how to bury herself in enough paperwork to forget… this ever happened.

—

"Despite their fearsome reputation, dingoes display remarkable tenderness toward members of their pack, forming strong social bonds with complex hierarchies that help maintain order..."

The room beyond the entryway is dark, bathed in a flickery white-blue as J storms through their front door. 

”You’re off late," 

V notes, leaning on the wall adjacent to the couch. She turns her head over her shoulder, dilated optics re-orienting themselves to the change in light. 

“Ugh.” Is the only thing that J can grumble back, hanging up her coat, then grimacing as she holds her arms out. 

Sweaty. Great. Nothing like ceaselessly yammering about your complicated love life to really get the cooling systems working overtime.

"Rough day?" She asks.

"You could say that." 

"Nice pit stains."

Honestly, sometimes J wonders if V has some kind of built-in radar for when she's at her most vulnerable. Or maybe J's just that predictable. Either way, it's annoying.

“…She carefully tends to her young, ensuring they learn the skills necessary for survival in one of the most unforgiving environments on Earth..."

"Got any plans for the night?" V asks, swirling whatever's in her mug. The question seems casual enough, but there's something in her tone that makes it…suspicious.

“ … Why ?" 

"Uzi's locked herself in her workshop and hasn't come up for air in hours.” She shrugs, tilting her head toward the living room. "N's been moping all evening. I've been keeping him company, but he’s getting all..." V waves her hand vaguely. 

"... Needy . Could use another set of hands. We're watching some documentary about wild dogs right now.”

“ Dingoes. ” N corrects from the couch, only visible from the tuft of hair poking up like a sprout from a mound of blankets he’s situated himself in.

"I-I need to freshen up first," J says, already backing toward the hallway before she even registers that she’s moving.  "I'm... disgusting.”

"We'll be here."

… Robo-god Damn it.

Great. Perfect. Just what she needs after the day she's had—more social interaction. More opportunities to make a fool of herself. More... temptation . 

It’s not that it's an excuse . She really is gross right now. Sweaty and flustered and probably smelling like industrial-grade anxiety. 

Once safely in the bathroom, J leans against the closed door and exhales. She catches her reflection in the mirror. Rolls her eyes. 

Nothing quite says "professional authority figure" like looking like she's just run a marathon in business attire. 

She just… needs a moment to herself. Dealing with… personal matters was exhausting in ways that twelve-hour shifts never could be.

Unbuttoning the fabric at its closure, she lets her blouse slide off her shoulders to pool on the floor. No pants—perks of being a robot, she supposes. Practicality over modesty. Then, she bends down, picking it up before neatly folding it over her arm and setting it on the side of the sink. 

Her fingers reach up to untie the ribbons in her hair, carefully loosening each one until her silver locks tumble free, falling nearly to her mid-back. 

Funny, J often thinks, how something as simple as letting your hair down can make you look like a completely different person.

93% operational, cooling systems slightly overtaxed, temperature elevated, but within acceptable parameters.

The shower hisses to life. Not water—some proprietary cleaning solution that dissolves oils and debris without damaging sensitive components. It's technically unnecessary. She could just wipe herself down—but there's something comforting about the ritual of it. 

Tilting her face upward she closes her eyes, hands moving mechanically through the motions of cleaning, muscle memory taking over while her mind wanders. She works the specialized chemicals through her tresses, the metallic strands catching the light as they slip between her fingers like mercury, fat rivulets trickling down the smooth contours of her frame where her chassis narrows at the waist before flaring at her hips. 

Without conscious thought, her hand drifts down to her core. The little skull insignia at her center pulses with a faint yellow glow, warming at her touch as she traces the seam where it meets her chassis. 

She pulls away quickly.

Absolutely not.

Still, her systems whine with the ghost of tension—phantom aches that’ve been building since... Well, since this morning's little daydream . Since last night's... activities . And… maybe some other… unrelated stuff…

…Argh, this is stupid! J is a professional ! A former terror of Copper-9’s perpetual onslaught of snow and ice! Ex -employee of the month at the most prestigious culling operation this side of the galaxy.

Her hand drifts back toward her core almost of its own accord. 

Not some... some... desperate, touch-starved adolescent…

Liquid trickles along her face and pools at her struts, hair hanging in soaked tendrils against her shoulders as a few minutes later, J finds her back against the steel wall, teeth gritted, optics rolled and half-shuttered like the hypocrite she was.

At least no one can hear her moans over the shower.

—

Steam curls around her frame as she secures a towel under her arms, the old, scratchy fibers barely covering what could be considered essential components as she pads back into the common area—only to freeze mid-step. 

There, nestled in what can only be described as an architectural nightmare of blankets and pillows on the floor are N and V.

He’s talking animatedly, gesturing with one hand while the other rests comfortably around V's shoulders, tails intertwined and swaying. 

Meanwhile, V is looking directly at her. 

Not glancing. Not noticing. Looking , tracking water droplets as they slide down J's bare chassis to disappear beneath the towel.

"I—“

J lets out an embarrassed cheep, clutching the towel tighter as she backs toward the hallway. 

"Just forgot something."

Without waiting for a response, she darts into her room, door sliding shut with a hiss that sounds far too loud in the silent aftermath of her exit. 

The reflection of a flustered, dripping mess stares back at her from the mirror across the room—towel clasped in a white-knuckled grip, visor flushed an embarrassingly deep gold. 

…. Why is she suddenly rummaging through her closet? She never wears anything to sleep. 

J picks up a black shirt. Holds it up. Puts it back. 

This is moronic. She doesn’t care what she looks like around these idiots. What are they going to do, judge her fashion sense? They're just her squadmates. Her insufferable, irritating, inexplicably attractive squadmates. 

Her attention is caught briefly by a small cardboard box tucked away in the corner of her closet, clearly marked with a big fat label of  “PAPERWORK - DO NOT OPEN” in her own handwriting. 

With a furtive look over her shoulder—as if someone might apparate into her locked bedroom—she reaches for it, hesitating just long enough to question her life choices before pulling it down from the shelf.

How did she even get these again? Some corporate retreat gift basket? A misplaced package? Some kind of practical joke? It's almost as if some desperate author needed a convenient plot device to fluff out this scene and just... materialized an entire box of provocative sleepwear without bothering to explain its origins. Lazy writing, if you ask her.

She holds out a negligee against her frame between her thumb and forefingers, grimacing. Sheer, dusty pink, silky. It would leave absolutely nothing to the imagination, especially with the way her core would glow through it…

Promptly, J throws it back almost just as quickly as she pulls it out and scowls, turning away from the mirror. The shirt would do. 

Fabric settles around her like a warm embrace by a worn tee—the same one of Uzi's that somehow migrated into her possession weeks ago. It's still ridiculously oversized, faded band logo across the front is barely legible anymore through countless washes falling just past her thighs, and hanging off one shoulder where the stretched-out collar refuses to stay put.  

Briefly, J considers doing something with her hair… 

No. No , that would be too much. She was already wearing the damn shirt, wasn’t she? No need to look like she was actually putting in an effort.

With a steadying breath, J reaches for the door panel. 

It’s not like she cared . She didn’t care. She was just going to go out there, sit down, and watch a documentary with her roommates about...what was it? Dingoes ? 

Whatever. 

—

"Unlike wolves, dingoes only breed once a year, forming strong pair bonds that sometimes last a lifetime…”

A couple of throw pillows from the armchair hit the couch cushions with a soft pomf, meticulous digits nudging, rearranging, patting, smoothing. J flicks her tail, her hands on her hips with a frown as she moves back to examine her handiwork while pretending not to watch N turn in his spot for at least the fifth time since she’d joined them out of her peripherals.

It earns him an annoyed grunt from V— curled around his form on the floor like a possessive centipede. 

Her hands brush over the blanket again, kneading it into an awkward crevice. The fabric bunches wrong—unacceptable—so she just pulls it out and restarts, tucking it just so. Perfect corners. Even distribution. Then promptly, J stakes her claim on the couch, knees drawn up snug to her chest. 

She fixes her eyes on the screen while her processor runs at least seven background operations, analyzing the volume of space between her and the others laying on the carpet beneath her. 

V and N exchange a look that J pretends not to notice–fingers digging into her shirt—Uzi's shirt—and twisting it nervously. 

Not nervously.

She doesn’t care, remember?

Languorously, V stretches. Her hands move through N's hair, and he tilts his head back into the touch with a contented sigh. 

…From a purely practical standpoint, joining them would be the logical choice.

Optimal temperature regulation through shared body heat, maximized comfort. All perfectly valid, non-emotional reasons to reconsider her position— makeshift nest no longer satisfying some deep-seated subroutine that keeps insisting that she's doing something wrong.

Stupid instincts. Stupid programming. Stupid stuff making her think about stupid... things.

"Did someone mess with the settings again?” 

”Huh?” N glances over his shoulder, and J quickly averts her gaze. 

“I—t-the saturation’s wrong. On the TV, I mean," She continues, gesturing vaguely. “Everything looks all... washed out."

V snorts. "Looks fine to me."

"Well, you're not sitting from this angle," J retorts. 

N turns, his body half-draped over V's, and pats the empty space beside him.

"You can bring your blanket down here if you’re feeling lonely.” He offers, eyes crinkling at their corners. “There’s lots of room.” 

J suddenly feels nauseous. Dizzy.

“I’m not lonely. ” She scoffs.

 Why did that smile make her feel so giddy ?

With a frustrated growl, she grabs the choicest components of her nest—the softest pillow, the fluffiest blanket—and holds them in her lap, hesitating until she’s fully sure that she’s no longer being stared at to slide off the sofa and down to the floor. 

She's just… getting closer to see better.

It’s for educational purposes. Knowledge is power, after all. 

6.7 inches of space now lie between them—just far enough for plausible deniability.

"Better?" V asks. 

"Marginally," J replies, focusing intently on smoothing imaginary wrinkles. 

"The color balance is still off."

”Sure it is.” 

Her processor offers calculations as the carefully maintained gap gradually shrinks—4.3 inches, 2.9 inches, 0.8 inches—until there's no space at all, and J honestly isn’t sure who moves first when N's arm shifts, draping cautiously around her shoulders, giving J every opportunity to pull away. She doesn't. 

Instead she allows herself to move closer, her head coming to rest against his shoulder. 

He’s running a little hot. Was he hungry?  

The sound of the front door sliding open snaps all three of their attentions toward the entrance. N's reaction is immediate—his entire frame perking up like a satellite dish catching a signal.

His enthusiasm is so naked that J feels a twinge of something that her emotional recognition software struggles to categorize. It's not quite jealousy—though there's a trace of that too—but something closer to... fondness? At his complete inability to hide how he feels.

“Uzi?” He asks excitedly. 

How exhausting it must be, J thinks, to wear your core on your sleeve like that.

Goggles pushed up on her forehead, her purple shag is mussed, looking like she's been through several small explosions. 

"Sup nerds," Uzi says, dropping her tool bag by the door with a heavy clank. She kicks off her boots haphazardly, one landing upright, the other on its side.

"What're we watching?"

Instinctively, J straightens herself out. 

"Documentary," she answers, aiming for casual and missing by approximately seven miles. V's greeting is much more on the mark—another lazy stretching of limbs and a soft chuff of acknowledgement without fully disentangling herself from the forms she’s curled around. 

"Cozy," Uzi observes, bending down to ruffle N’s hair affectionately before pressing a quick kiss to the top of his head. 

“No thanks to you.” V half-grumbles. “You’re aware you were gone for nine hours ?”

Uzi shrugs. “Time flies when you’re having fun, I guess. Now scoot over," 

It’s… an interesting problem J now has, unsure where exactly to "scoot" when she's effectively pinned by two clingy squadmates. Though… truth be told the rearrangement happens with surprising efficiency. N ducks, V uncoils, and suddenly J finds herself being nudged closer to the center of their tangle. Her tail vibrates nervously, but she doesn't protest as Uzi slides into the space they've created.

She’s barely able to settle down before N can’t seem to contain himself any longer, and  lacking any semblance of grace he practically clambers over J's legs and nearly knees her in the back to sandwich himself against his girlfriend like a conjoined twin desperately seeking reattachment to its other half. 

"Missed you," he murmurs. 

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” Uzi chuckles, shaking her head as arms are wound around her middle with the tenacity of a vice grip. The largest of the three leans in, angling her cheek to the side before she’s even finished talking and kisses it, then again, and again until Uzi starts squirming in his grasp. 

“Ack! Blargh! Gross!” She squawks, halfheartedly batting him away with a wide grin tugging at her lips that pull back to bare her teeth. 

Grimacing, J squeezes herself out of the crossfire, arching her spine and wiggling her hips until she’s half-perched half-sprawled herself on the edge of their shared pile–though most importantly away from the growling purple menace currently straining against her much heftier adversary. 

“You guys are gross.” She complains, watching the little drone wrestle her way out of N’s embrace. At least he seems to get the memo. 

Slackening, N tilts his head up to meet J’s gaze, upside-down from where he lays on his back with a lazy simper. Victorious, Uzi snickers atop him. 

"What, is saying hi to my boyfriend illegal now?” 

"Your observation skills continue to astound, Doorman. Did you spend those 9 hours practicing your deductive reasoning?" 

“9 hours practicing on your mooommm.” 

“This is the twentieth time you’ve involved my nonexistent mother in hypothetical inappropriate scenarios with yourself. I just thought I should let you know that.” 

“About to be 21.” 

“Uzi, don’t be dumb. You’re the only one here with a mom.” V drawls, picking at her teeth with a claw. She sinks back down into the cushions, hitting her with a particularly shit-eating expression. “I should know, I spent last night with her,” 

“Ew! Gross, dude! Don’t even joke about that!” Uzi says shrilly, whipping a pillow in her direction which she catches and tosses back at her. 

V barks out a laugh, then braces herself as the worker pulls back on her haunches, pouncing forward and knocking into her form. A flurry of limbs momentarily ensues before Uzi ends up in her lap, hands pinned against her chest.