Archive of Our Own

There’d been a noticeable absence of a certain presence lately, presenting itself in little cookies with messy pink icing and an awkward mood made from whipped tension in the air. Everyone was clearly aware of it, and while they tried their best to remain positive and helpful, they all had the same thought: no one really understood how much Sprout helped around in the abandoned educational center until he pushed himself too far.

The pastries that were routinely made in bulk were effectively cut in half, resulting in many becoming familiar with the dull sound of a cookie being broken in two. Cosmo had been trying his best, but without Sprout’s guidance, the confections that would once be served with precise attention to detail now looked a little more rough around the edges; Cosmo’s small hands weren’t built to make these things one after the other, especially at the level of detail Sprout expected them to be at sometimes.

The strawberry’s absence in the kitchen wasn’t a complete obstruction to their work, though, and Cosmo was seemingly very eager to prove it. The lack of pastries was only noticeable due to the amount the Toons were used to regularly receiving. If anyone took a second to step back, they’d realize how much effort he’d truly been putting in.

Those who did so took the time to seek him out and properly thank him, and those who didn’t only took their share with a smile and a quick “Thanks!”. However, that was more than enough for Cosmo, who excitedly kept those words of appreciation in the back of his mind like a pocket, waiting for the moment to proudly present them to Sprout when he recovered.

Sprout hadn’t left his room in over a day. The tension in Gardenview had been due to that fact. Over the course of the week before, his ever-persistent presence grew dimmer, eventually being replaced with one of deepening eye bags and a cough that didn’t seem to go away.

“It’s probably just something in my throat,” he had said in passing. “Y’know, I’ve noticed the elevator’s been pretty dusty recently. Have you kept up with it, Tisha?”

That was a question meant for the sole purpose of deflection. Everybody knew Tisha always kept up with her cleaning. Unbeknownst to Sprout, he had also used that same exact excuse before.

Despite the increasingly worried looks he’d receive, and how many Toons would come up to him and ask, his response was always the same: some variation of the phrase I’m all good. Sprout would say it a hundred times to please even the most stubborn of the group. Usually, it worked. And if it didn’t, oftentimes they were too preoccupied in their own bubbles to truly push it. After all, Sprout was a Toon who valued his space and privacy. If he wasn’t fine, someone like Boxten wouldn’t be the first to know.

And he kept it all under wraps as best he could. Even though the tips of his leaves began to pale in color, and the air around him grew exponentially colder, he continued cooking meals, and mediating little arguments, and perfectly icing cakes, and going down to floor who-knows-what just to tag along and make sure those who went down stayed safe.

The day before he was sentenced to rot away in bed was a supply run day. Despite his lidded eyes and constant sniffles, Sprout still volunteered to join when asked, even though every drop of ichor in his body was practically begging him not to, pushing into every crevice and nook his bones didn’t quite reach to make him feel weak and tired in some feeble attempt at getting him to change his mind.

But of course, Sprout was all good.

And of course, the expected happened soon afterwards. A sick individual pushing himself past his limits can only last so long.

The team that was put together consisted of Looey, Cosmo, Sprout, Vee, and Shelly. Cosmo only joined at the last moment due to his immense worry for the sickly male next to him. He’d silently been watching him for the past few days, uncharacteristic for someone who couldn’t keep a secret from the taller Toon if he tried. It was for the best though; If Sprout didn’t want to tell him what was truly going on, he could find solace in being the overprotective one this time.

Floor 8: an old friend of theirs, now drenched in ichor and contorted beyond recognition, had been a little too swift for their liking. The group had gotten split up, and Sprout and Looey found themselves huddled in a corner while they caught their breath, the latter wrapping a bandage around their wounded arm. The curious sound of air returning to the balloon’s head rang clear through the abandoned room, serving to unnerve Sprout.

While they sat, a dim green glow caught their eyes. Vee, seemingly unaware of the danger that lurked right outside of the room they sat in, bolted past them in the direction of an uncompleted machine. Neither of them could warn her before it was too late: their shadowy friend practically leapt onto her, and the echo of a sharp, pained gasp partnered with the loud sound of a technological error made Sprout’s stomach drop like it never had before.

He ran. One injury, one heal, and then he quickly slumped to the floor. He doesn’t remember what happened after that, only properly waking up once everyone was already in the elevator.

Through blurry vision, he recognized dark figures looming over him, Cosmo’s the clearest of all. His chocolate cheeks were damp, and his figure told Sprout that he had used one of his heals on him. The wrecked expression Cosmo wore softened when he noticed the boy he was straddling had begun to stir, swiftly being replaced with relief.

There was an expectant silence, and then a strained cough, and then a faint: “I think I'm sick.”

Sprout wasn’t allowed outside of his room thereafter.

-

Quiet, slow footsteps landed themselves in front of a familiar door.

Vee felt guilty.

That was an emotion she rarely ever felt, much less admitted to herself she felt.

Guilt was a wave of nausea pouring onto her and ruining the technology inside her body. There was something so disgusting about the feeling that, despite being a TV, all she wanted to do was get under running water and scrub it away.

She held a plate of fresh pancakes, courtesy of Cosmo, in her hands awkwardly. The warm smell of the syrup emanating from them served as a constant reminder that she was seriously here: standing outside of Sprout’s door with a cute little plate of breakfast.

Her pride would have never let her do this. She’d never been one to do favors like these, much less for someone like Sprout.

They never really got along as well as they should’ve. To point that fact out to anyone near them would be like pointing out a fork in a kitchen drawer: obvious and right where it should be. They remained as friendly as they could to each other in passing, but their clashing personalities served to do nothing but quickly bring down a room if they were both in it for too long.

Vee had her fair share of mutual disdain. It wasn’t a feeling she was uncomfortable nor unfamiliar with: as someone who thought so highly of herself, she was bound to have a couple of acquaintances who rightfully wanted her brought down a notch. However, when it came to her relationship with Sprout, when both of them were stars of Dandy’s World, it gained much more traction than either of them really wanted it to.

Their relationship wasn’t disdain by any means, though. Despite that, Vee still quite couldn’t put a name on it. They respected each other, of course, but just enough to the point where it didn’t seem suspicious to any wandering eyes. Past that, Sprout would rather be in a room with anyone else. He cringed at every Berry-Boy, rolled his eyes at any smart comments that came from her mouth, and shut down their conversations if they lasted a little too long.

That’s why her programming couldn’t come up with an answer to the stupid question that had been eating at her for the past day, sent to her in the name of Guilt.

Why had he healed her?

She would’ve been fine. Yes, she had gotten hurt, but so had everyone else. He didn’t put on such a dramatic show when Shelly had gotten hurt, so why the big fuss over Vee all of a sudden?

The grip she held on the warm plate tightened. Frustration, both towards Sprout and at her inability to answer her own question, filled her senses.

His pancakes are getting cold.

Vee felt her jaw clench, but the thought brought her back down from wherever her mind was going. It’d be stupid to disturb Sprout for cold pancakes, and it’s not like she could save them for herself instead.

Dismissively shaking her head as though she was physically swiping her thoughts away, she gripped the knob to the door and opened it. There was no urge to knock.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dimness of the room due to the only thing illuminating it being a faulty desk lamp, but once they did, surprised to see it wouldn’t even cut it. She’d never been in here before, but its current state definitely didn’t make much of a good first impression.

Papers littered the floor, often in piles, with what seemed to be recipes scribbled in waxy crayon and semi-crude drawings of pastries beside them. A spare pink and white scarf (Sprout owned several) lay alongside them, clearly discarded without a second thought. The faltering light from the lamp on Sprout’s nightstand made it difficult to point out much of anything else. Her screen didn’t help; when it was entirely black save for a few lines of code, the light it gave was feeble.

Uncertainly, Vee took a couple of steps forward, her feet gently landing on the several papers scattered on the ground with a soft crunch. She winced—- there goes to hoping this would be easy. All she wanted to do was just set the pancakes down, tell Sprout they were there, and leave. While she definitely had a list of questions and a set of strong feelings to pair for the blanketed blob on the bed, she recognized that now wasn’t the time to bother him with that.

She’d feel… guilty.

As if on command, Sprout stirred with a groan, alerted by the shuffling of papers Vee had just caused, albeit unintentionally. His face wasn’t visible, and the quiet noise he had made sounded more like a thought in her mind behind the thick layers of blankets he’d piled onto himself.

“Cosmo, I told you to stay out of here..” He croaked. Literally. God, he sounded awful. “I don’t want you getting sick too.”

“I can’t get sick.” Vee replied.

There was a pause before Sprout, almost immediately, began yanking blankets off of himself in a blind panic. When he emerged, his disheveled appearance and wide eyes gave away his reaction to Vee being in the room in place of Cosmo.

A single leaf of his fluttered over his eyebrows, further accentuating the exhaustion in his expression. It unfurled teasingly, as though it was asking to be pulled back into place, on top of his head.

“Vee.”

“Hello to you too, Seedly.”

She couldn’t help but give him a smirk, one full of confidence. She always made it clear she had the upper hand, no matter how trivial or subtle. There was always a silent challenge when it came to anything involving her.

Sprout didn’t respond at first, seemingly unconvinced that the TV was standing in the middle of his room. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, like he expected her to suddenly take the form of the swiss roll he had anticipated before when he opened them.

…But, nope. Still Vee, looking as annoyingly uninterested as usual.

“Um,” Sprout took initiative, visibly ill at ease by the awkward silence as the two stared at each other. His eyes darted down to the plate in her hands, then quickly back up to her eyes. “Why are you here?”

A light scraping sound buzzed in his ears for just a moment, a noise many toons had familiarized themselves with: Vee’s microphone tended to thrash when she was irritated. Sprout had noticed she and Scraps had that in common, as much as Vee would hate to be compared to her. It was a warning, something many of their friends learned to find out.

Despite his familiarity with the noise, Sprout found it odd that the microphone laid on the floor, almost like a dejected animal’s tail, instead of retracted into her body where she usually kept it. Vee hated when people touched her without permission, especially if it was her microphone or the cord it was connected to.

Her image was important, and she kept it as tidy as possible, but now that Sprout took a proper look at her, the microphone had minor scuffs, like she had been dragging it around for a while. Her irritated face held an uncertainty behind them. Tiredness, maybe.

Noting she was being analyzed, Vee swiftly turned her head away, choosing to present the plate of pancakes instead, which served as both a distraction and a meal. “Why does it look like I’m here?” She questioned, in the assertive tone she always kept on hand.

The pancakes were soggy now, thoroughly soaked with syrup, but the sugary toppings that sat on top of them remained intact. Gumballs took the shape of eyes, and a thin piece of candy represented the mouth. There were chocolate shavings littered on the top half of the cake, scattered without much thought, as though whoever was adding them got distracted halfway through.

“Cosmo made these.” Vee said, though Sprout didn’t need to think twice about it. “He thought you would appreciate some breakfast, but he sent me in here instead so he wouldn’t get sick.”

That didn’t sound like Cosmo. At least, the ‘avoiding entering Sprout’s room’ part didn’t sound like him. If the situation were up to him, he’d spend every waking hour sitting on Sprout’s bed, helping around and keeping him company while he recovered. Sprout practically had to pry the swiss roll off of him when the time came to it. While he did feel the deep desire for company, the worry that Cosmo would also catch a cold due to his own selfishness swayed his decisions far more than his own needs ever would.

Vee looked about ready to drop the plate in his lap and walk away, so Sprout gingerly took it from her. It was pleasantly warm, an addicting feeling for someone who had only felt cold for the past week, even with his raging fever. He was handed a fork, but something inside him told him to put off starting to eat until Vee had left. Besides, while he knew Cosmo had good intentions, the sugary mess looked like its only intention was to give Sprout a headache.

He set the fork down beside a syrup puddle, making sure to avoid it. “If Cosmo wanted to give these to me, he’d be in here.”

“Like I said, he didn’t want to get sick. Didn’t you kick him out?”

“Yeah, no, he hasn’t been listening to a word I say for the past couple days. Ever since I fainted, he’s been acting like he knows best.” Sprout laughed a little, mostly at himself and the warmth he felt when he thought about his friend. The mixed emotions towards the girl standing in front of him were much more of an afterthought.

The expression on Vee’s face that followed his words gave the impression that he had said the most offensive thing on Earth. The uninterested look she previously wore hardened at the mere mention of the incident that took place two days prior. As much as she tried to play it off, Sprout was good at these things: he took notice of that tiny shift.

He glanced at the TV, then at the plate of pancakes, then back at the TV, who now had her back turned to him, as if she was ready to leave him to it.

“Wait. Did you ask him to make these?”

Vee tensed, and her microphone made that familiar sound once more as her cord began to whip. She remained silent, something incredibly difficult for her to achieve, for once at a loss for words. Her mouth opened, however, but quickly clamped shut.

Nothing in her immediate vocabulary even sounded vaguely appropriate in terms of a response. Sprout had caught her off guard; even though this question was bound to be asked in some way, not once did it occur to her that he would ask so abruptly.

Vee knew she was good at playing it cool, but that was solely due to the fact she wasn’t very in touch with her emotions. Toons generally viewed her as arrogant, and she couldn’t ever praise someone without it coming off as backhanded. Whether all of that be due to her programming or a much deeper set reason, the absence of her handler would leave her questions unanswered.

This entire thing was uncharted territory for her. The frustration prickled at her, her body itching to let off some steam in the form of shaking fists and gritting teeth. All of her thoughts lead to the same thing, all of her equations lead to an error: a conclusion coiled so tightly around her psyche that, while she didn’t want to admit it, confused her.

“Mhm.” She stated plainly. Internally, she attempted to claw her feelings away from that psyche. “Do you have a problem with that?”

The surprised look that washed over Sprout’s face was swiftly brushed under the rug as soon as it came. There was something so puzzling to him about Vee, the Vee, admitting to his question so simply. The Vee, the stubborn Vee who would rather fight until she bled to death than lay and accept defeat by waving a white flag. “No, I… What are you trying to do?”

“What do you mean ‘what am I trying to do’? I’m doing you a favor.”

Sprout knew he wasn’t achieving anything other than pissing her off. Vee’s progression in losing her cool was anything but subtle; she kept her emotions on her sleeve, clearly. And on her tail, which was beginning to rattle around once more.

…At least, it was clear to Sprout. He noticed she really only wore a selection of feelings, ranging from disinterested at the mildest, to aggravated at the worst. He knew most toons saw her aloofness as a front, and if he hadn’t been around her for so long, he’d be a part of that crowd too. But there was something so… off about it, something he couldn’t put his finger on, that made him question what was really going on in her head, past all the fronts, and past all the stupid computer code she used as a bullshit excuse.

And he really, really, wished Vee was a thousand percent more tolerable than she actually was, because knowing all of this made him feel uncertain in her presence, and he didn’t like letting Toons sit with negative feelings, but she practically made it impossible to have a heart to heart with anyone who tried. Those sleeves were always worn, always proudly presented, and when they’d run their course, she'd put them in the wash, hang them to dry, and wear them all over again.

Sprout bristled, confused and irritated at the TV’s complete lack of any explanation, and the continuation of their tricky, uncoordinated waltz as she avoided doing so. What did he expect, though? “You’ve never done any favors for me before. I didn’t even ask for these.”

There was an increasingly wet feeling slowly sliding down Sprout’s face as he spoke, starting at the middle. Yuck. He rubbed the soft fabric of the scarf he wore against his nose, hoping to alleviate some of the runniness, but in doing so, there he accidentally began to build up a different, uncomfortable sensation, one that he already knew only led to one thing.

Vee didn’t seem to notice, Sprout’s stupid remarks doing nothing but distracting her. Another soft crunch of paper being stepped on echoed out when she began to take small steps backwards to the door of his room.

She sounded both offended and baffled as she spoke, to no surprise. Her crooked antenna twitched in annoyance. “You know what, actually? You’re right. I don’t, and I shouldn't. I have better-”

ACHOO!

“things…” Abruptly cut off by Sprout’s sneeze, she suddenly resembled a deer in headlights to a tee, with big eyes and a stiff stance to pair, but it was short lived after she processed what had happened, reclaiming her composure with crossed arms. “…is it seriously that bad?”

Sprout barely resisted opening his fat mouth and questioning her on whether that was really the best thing she could come up with asking. “Yeah. Yeah, it is. You’re lucky you don’t have to deal with it, huh?”

That seemed to stir something personal up deep inside of Vee; Sprout could practically hear the cogs in her head turn as she got lost in it. She tilted it to the side in her best efforts to hide the scowl that overtook her face from the boy in front of her.

He’d seen this type of body language hundreds of times: most Toons weren’t good at hiding their feelings, and they weren’t very good at lying when he questioned them on whether they’d eaten the last slice of cake, or broken someone’s favorite crayon.

She feels guilty, doesn’t she?

Hah.

Silence.

What followed after Sprout’s quip was deafening, and he felt it fill his senses almost completely and practically suffocate him in the process. He wasn’t sure why Vee wouldn’t move, or speak, or do anything, but he guessed the stuffy feeling was affecting her in a similar way.

She was here for a reason. If that wasn’t the case, she would’ve been long gone. Neither of them enjoyed fighting like this. Sure, Vee found pleasure in giving Sprout stupid nicknames, and she found pleasure in seeing the way his facial features tried to hide the disgust that followed the word Seedly, but no Toon genuinely enjoyed seeking out petty squabbling like this. Except for Shrimpo.

That.. thing that she was here for. Sprout knew what it was. He just wouldn’t be the one to say it out loud.

“What did you want from me?”

“Excuse me?”

“I know you’re here for a reason. What do you want from me?”

Vee finally seemed to take a second to think, because she didn’t bark the first thing that came to mind for once. Instead, her eyebrows furrowed, leaving Sprout with a curious expression he didn’t see from her often.

“I don’t want anything from you.” She stated. Monotone, like she’d practiced this twice in her head before she said it out loud. “I just came to give you your breakfast. I’ll leave now.”

She turned without sparing even a second glance at him, ignoring the sounds of paper being crushed beneath her heels as she headed towards the door.

“Wait,” Sprout blurted without thinking. What the hell was he doing? “wait. Wait- Vee.”

It took a moment for him to register that Vee actually listened. She froze in place at the sound of his voice, almost a little too quickly. His stomach lurched at the realization of what he’d done, but it was a little too late to backtrack.

As she angled her head a final time, her full, illuminated expression was on display now: something confused and unsure, layered underneath a blanket of concern. Her mouth hung slightly open, giving away that she was just as surprised at his sudden demand as he was.

Sprout’s mouth felt dry, as though it was resisting his advances, never voting on going through with whatever the rest of his body was trying. He licked his lips and swallowed, becoming increasingly aware of the tension in the room the longer they stayed like this.

“Can…” He couldn’t look her in the eyes. “Can you stay?”

That was the last thing Vee expected to hear out of his mouth. She had expected him to get in the last word, or maybe argue one more time before she left, but here he was instead, asking her, of all people, to.. Stay in his room with him.

It was almost unnatural how fast she turned her face forward, confirming it was completely hidden from Sprout’s view. She wasn’t sure what he would say if he took notice of the way her body reacted to his request, acting without command.

Vee’s heart thumped in her chest with some sort of nervousness that was begging to be acknowledged, and the mechanical parts inside her thrummed with increasing heat, leaving her feeling hot and uncomfortable while the sensation radiated from her head. She had no control over any of it, and that fact freaked her out more than she liked to admit. There was nothing she feared more in the world than not having control of a situation, even if she’d never admit it.

The foreignness of hearing such a genuine ask from the strawberry, especially one directed at her, only served to further overwhelm her. The tone itself wasn’t unfamiliar: she had overheard him use it plenty of times while he baked with Cosmo, or when he interacted with children and the little Toons, but there was a new layer to it now. Something hesitant, like he wasn’t sure what was too much when it came to the TV in front of him. Like one wrong move would send her stomping towards the door and slamming it with a force that would alert any Toon in their nearby vicinity.

He wouldn’t be wrong to form a judgement like that. That’s what their relationship had always been. All talk, all show, never anything beneath that. Sprout always had other people to fall back on; Vee was content enough being at a comfortable arms length from everyone. If either party wanted more, their pride would never let them admit to it.

“Sorry, I just.. It’s been rough, being alone in here. It’s.. nice to have some company?”

Sprout didn’t look like he believed himself when he spoke, an invisible question mark presenting itself at the end of his sentence. It felt like he had just managed to put the first excuse that came to his mind into words at the last moment.

Vee knew there was some truth behind it, though. The Toons were created to be social creatures: that was their entire purpose. They were crafted so delicately so that social interaction wouldn’t tire them out. If anything, they fed off of it. When they were away from the action for too long, it affected them heavily.

Despite that, Vee couldn’t deny that she felt like an exception to the status quo. Even if no one pointed it out, her behavior didn’t exactly make it a secret. She was an electronic, so her batteries needed to recharge every once in a while. That’s what she made herself believe, at the least. (So what if that made her irritable sometimes?)

She did somewhat relate to Sprout’s desperation to keep someone in here, though she wasn’t sure if it was because the state his bedroom was in was making her restless.

“Why are you choosing me out of everyone to be your company?” She couldn’t help but ask him, regardless of the knot her stomach molded into at the lack of certainty she had in his reply.

Sprout looked confused. “You’re the only one who can’t get sick.”

Oh. Right. She looked away, the unfamiliar heat in her head forcibly pushing against her screen in an attempt to shame her. How she lost track of that detail so quickly was beyond her, but she chalked it up to her faulty navigation of social situations catching up to her. She silently begged her ducks to form a row before it became too obvious, but she couldn’t change code.

The silence that seemed to haunt them threatened to return again, in the shape of bloated awkwardness and forgotten whipped cream left to melt. Now that Sprout had managed to keep Vee in the room for a couple more minutes at least, both of them soon realized they had nothing to talk about, at least not on hand.

They couldn’t keep eye contact for very long. When they accidentally locked eyes again, Sprout stifled a cough. Vee watched his attention dart back down to his, definitely cold, pancakes in an attempt to find something other than the TV in front of him to focus on. He poked at them with the fork she’d given him, clearly turned off by the diminishing quality after they’d soaked in syrup for too long.

“Cosmo burnt the pancakes a little. He can never get them quite right.” His comment was fond, with no malice or annoyance behind it. He stuck his fork into the Skill Check candy that represented the pancake’s mouth while he spoke, unaware of the gaze carefully analyzing him.

“He’s been trying his best.” Vee noted as she watched him take a small bite from it, then immediately reject it. He continued to chew uncomfortably, like he was convincing himself the flavor was enjoyable. “I’m not sure anyone else would be handling the position he’s been in as well as he has.”

Sprout nodded, humming in a pleased tone. He appreciated that someone else took notice of Cosmo’s determination when it came to a call-to-action. “He’s so much stronger than most people wanna give him credit for. All he wants to do is prove himself, I wish everyone saw just how great he actually is.”

Sprout’s fondness for Cosmo poured out from the seams of his voice, coating his speech in warm, velvety icing. Vee felt the corners of her mouth threatening to move without command, and she allowed it- very slightly, that is. She couldn’t deny that the relationship they shared was nothing but unadulterated wholesomeness, sometimes to the point where it made her a little sick.

Only when Sprout reflected her half-smile with a gentler one of his own did she realize he had taken notice of her subtle facial expression. They both swiftly looked away when eye contact was made again, a habit they’d begun to develop apparently, with Sprout deciding to continue messing with his pancakes, and Vee gazing at the, rather plain, walls of his room.

“Um…” Vee’s focus was brought back to reality when Sprout’s hoarse voice began a drawl. The silence after the ‘um’ dragged on distinctly longer than he would’ve liked to admit, because the low feeling of fever in his face turned into proper heat.

Vee stayed silent, letting him decide when to tap out of his side of the conversation on his own.

“Uh,” He set his fork down, “I just wanted to say thanks for bringing me these. Sorry I’m not eating them.”

“They’re not appetizing,” She agreed, nodding. “you don’t have to.”

Sprout’s eyes quickly widened— was that not what he was implying? “No! No, it’s not that. They’re just cold. And soggy. I don’t think they’re good anymore.”

Vee grimaced— that one was on her. She, of course, didn’t mean to occupy so much of Sprout’s time, but between getting lost in her own mind, and butting heads with him as they habitually did, there was no proper window for the strawberry to actually begin consuming the sustenance she brought him.

That twinge of guilt groaned in her gut again, and she chose to ignore it as best she could. There was no point in entertaining it, even if each recurring pang of the emotion she felt brought her closer and closer to a metaphorical edge.

Vee stared at the food on Sprout’s plate as he leaned over, gently setting them on the nightstand beside his bed. His facial expression had since changed from the faint smile to something more difficult to decipher. “I also just… think they’d make me feel worse. I mean.. Do you see how much sugar is on them?”

Was… Was he..?

Sprout was definitely trying to lift some weight off of her shoulders. She wasn’t imagining it. What did he even gain from that?

These sort of interactions were transactional to Vee, someone didn’t act kind without expecting something in return. However, it turns out that that was Sprout’s exact nature. Knowing he considered her deserving enough to warrant that sort of behavior left her feeling conflicted. She could take accountability for her own actions, and didn’t need him softening the blow.

“No, you’re right. I should’ve said something.” She admitted, albeit a little reluctantly.

Looking back on it, Vee distinctly remembers watching Cosmo pile topping after topping onto the, already heavy, plate as he handed it to her, when she first asked him for the favor. She wasn’t very good at judging whether something was over the top or chaotic when it came to food and its taste, so she had just assumed that it would be something Sprout would enjoy, but upon recalling his reaction when he bit into the candy still embedded in the discarded fork, it said otherwise.

Sprout perked up at her words. “Ah, no worries.. You’re good.”

His tone wasn’t entirely convincing, but it was nowhere near Vee’s place to call it out, so she just acknowledged it and let it pass, choosing to nod silently in response.

The quiet stillness of the room further fueled the feeling that grabbed at her, pulling her stomach in and sinking it to the floor. She was out of place, like a puzzle piece that just wouldn’t fit into the big picture, no matter how many times it tried to forcibly press itself into position. She adjusted the position of her bowtie in an attempt to distract herself, suddenly becoming very aware of how tight it felt around her throat.

“Don’t you have better things to be doing, anyway?”

“Excuse me?” Vee couldn’t stop the offended color that painted her voice almost instantly, the words darting out of her mouth without a second thought. “Where did that question even come from?”

Sprout shrugged, his face visibly clammy— something that had just caught Vee’s eye. Maybe it had already been like that, as she wasn’t watching him too closely anymore. “You’re always busy, with your shows and whatnot. I’m surprised you even stayed in the first place.”

He was so ungrateful. Did he even want her to stay?

“Yeah, well..” She couldn’t come up with an excuse of any kind, because he was right. She definitely had other tasks to attend to, ones that her time would be better spent doing. “Are— Are you ok?”

When her full attention was back on the boy in front of her, she quickly realized she wasn’t imagining the sickly look she’d seen before. The warm hue in his face was now a noticeable pale lack of it, the color having drained in mere seconds. It almost felt like he’d found a way to reverse time; the white gave him the false appearance of an unripe strawberry.

“Yeah, yeah, fine. Just lightheaded.” Words piled out of his mouth in an attempt to say the least he could in the shortest time possible, further proven by the audible breathlessness in his voice. His eyebrows knit together when another wave of nausea seemed to course through his body, though he tried his best to act as though it didn’t happen.

Vee didn’t waste a second in running up to his bedside, her feet driven by a state of concerned panic that she didn’t quite understand. As her eyes scanned over Sprout’s disheveled appearance, the realization that she didn’t know what to do in this situation quickly set in. She never paid much attention to these things— what did the other Toons do when they were about to be sick?

“Vee, what are you— umph!” Sprout’s head suddenly fell backwards from where it hovered over his pillow with a firm push of his shoulders. His eyes widened in surprise, though as soon as his body processed that lying down took the edge away from the sickening feeling he was experiencing, he sank deeper into the bed with a noise of satisfaction, screwing them shut.

“..You’re so lucky that’s helping.”

“Lucky? I helped you.” Vee frowned, upset that her usefulness was being spun back on her.

“You don’t really touch someone without their permission,” Sprout spoke without opening his eyes, the sudden onset of nausea still settling into his body uncomfortably. “I thought you out of all people should know that.”

He didn’t need to open them to hear the thwap! of a metal object smacking against the floor.

Even through his scratchy voice, and Vee’s irritated reaction, there was still no genuine frustration in his words. He wouldn’t lie and say he was pleased with what had just happened, especially in the moment before he had fully processed it, but Sprout recognized that the only thing she was trying to do was help, and she did succeed in doing so.

Besides, he wasn’t really sure how familiar she was with something she didn’t experience, and something he knew she wouldn’t bother to learn about because of that.

A loud sigh escaped his lips without thinking about it, almost like second nature. Even with his vision shrouded in darkness, he somehow still felt the TV’s persistent gaze on him, watching him without a word. While he didn’t feel frustration at the weird attempt at helping him that came out of nowhere, he did feel an overwhelming amount of it at her refusal to get to her point: the reason why she was still here.

Knowing that she felt obligated enough to go out of her way to counteract Sprout’s sickness said more than her words ever would (or could, for that matter). She was concerned, and he didn’t like that. He loathed the idea of being seen in such a raw form, so physically weak and out of his prime.

He also didn’t like people fussing over him, and when that person was Vee, it fell nothing short of patronizing, whether she meant it or not. It was sickeningly patronizing, on top of silently knowing she was only here because she needed answers, and her mind wouldn’t let her rest until she got them.

Vee could beat around the bush all she wanted, but her intentions were clear. Since this was a situation she couldn’t rely on her little fact-bank to reliably solve, here she was, using him as one last attempt to close this pointless chapter in her book.

Sprout’s sense of urgency almost asked the question itself, but he managed to quell it with a bitten lip. He imagined a fumbling mess as he did, a girl scrambling to compose herself and think of a reply that didn’t betray her at the same time.

He breathed in sweet air of satisfaction at the thought, but it remained just that: a thought. As enticing as it was, he wouldn’t ever pass up the opportunity to hear Vee wave a white flag— to openly admit that she was giving up the advantage that always seemed to favor her in social interactions.

“Seriously. Why are you still here? What is so difficult to answer about that?” Sprout willed his voice to sound less exasperated than he truly felt, but his efforts fell flat, landing at Vee’s feet with a sudden, unpleasant sound.

When his questions were met with silence, he had no choice but to open his tired eyes and confirm Vee was still there. His heart sank when the possibility of being greeted with an empty room entered his mind, but he quickly realized how stupid that was; Vee’s technology was far too clunky to move without a sound.

So, there she was, still standing in the same position she was in before he shut his eyes. Contrary to Sprout’s stupid ideas, it looked as if she hadn’t moved a single inch. There was an unknown emotion in her eyes, intertwined with a deep, misaligned frown.

She finally spoke, “Fine. I’ll ask. But answer me honestly.”

Sprout couldn’t stop himself from making a swipe at Vee, one he already knew would increase the rising tension in the room. “I already have a hunch about what you’re gonna ask me, anyway.”

That one sentence set her off. Something about the way she was acting, shaky hand motions and a demeanor indicative of holding something back, told Sprout that this wasn’t a good time to continue their usual bickering, although a little late. “Then why did you heal me, during that run? You know I would've been fine. I don’t understand. No matter how many times my programming thinks it over, it's the one thing I can't answer.”

The cesspool of Sprout’s confused emotions bubbled beneath the surface of his stiffness, which caused him to squint his eyes in disbelief. There was that excuse again, the thing that Vee seemed to so-comfortably fall back on. No matter the subject, she always managed to bring up at least something about code, or programming, or her tech.

“Your programming.” He called it out, without sparing the action a second thought. “Do you ever think without it?”

Vee stared at him in incredulity. “Is that ser—”

“No, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Sprout found himself apologizing for the words before he even registered it was happening. And he was being honest, he didn’t mean it like that; while Vee was definitely a character he didn’t like expressing apologies towards, there were boundaries he’d long set for himself, and he wouldn’t prioritize his satisfaction, albeit minuscule in this scenario, over his morals, not when she was making an attempt at genuineness.

The sense of superiority Vee carried like a handbag pretty much pissed everyone off at least to some extent, but he couldn’t kick her when she was already in the process of going down. Not to mention, when he thought about it for longer than a moment, he wasn’t sure what he’d do in her position, if he was filled to the brim with trivia and information to the point he couldn’t confidently draw a line between himself as a person and a walking ATM of knowledge.

For the first time, Sprout felt a pang of pity for Vee.

And then, at her expectant look, and her metaphorical bluescreen when expected to handle a sincerity in his words that she didn’t seem acquainted with, he felt it for a second time.

She didn’t say a word; it was his turn to speak.

“I don’t know why I healed you,” He lied. “I panicked. I was sick, and tired, and.. you mean a lot to this place. I don’t know what I would’ve done with myself if I was responsible for.. Y’know. You need to be more careful.”

His first claim was definitely false, he knew exactly why he did it, and why he felt so compelled to, even in sickly delirium, but the rest of his statement wasn’t. It just felt weird to be genuine with Vee when the topic wasn’t something they both agreed on and were responsible to discuss, like Dandy or his relationship with Astro.

Vee scanned Sprout’s situation, and she didn’t need to speak for him to understand exactly what she was implying, but she did anyway. “You shouldn’t tell me what to do when you’re bedridden because you don’t even take care of yourself.”

Everytime Sprout thought he was finally having a heart to heart with her, or finally getting past her thick screen, she somehow managed to find a way to get under his skin all over again. It was a hideous routine; she would rather be comfortable in familiarity than let her walls down. Why did she think he let himself get so sick, just for fun?

“Ugh, forgive me for looking out for you, then! You’re gonna get yourself seriously hurt one day— what’s your plan when that happens? You’re way too valuable to be recklessly running into danger like you did.”

That was the wrong thing to say, at least from Vee’s perspective. Her expression regressed to resemble fury, though teetering on the cusp. “Are you serious? I’m so much more than what I do for Gardenview! You of all people should know that!”

Whatever organic Toons felt when they experienced illness, Vee was certain this came close. She knew the only thing anyone saw her as was a computer first, and a person second, even if they wouldn’t speak that thought aloud. It was something she’d long since accepted, especially when her personality didn’t come close in making up for it. But to hear it from Sprout, of all people, and so blatantly..

The word valuable used to describe herself made her feel sick.

That feeling was then directed towards him, in the form of anger. “Do all of you just view me as an asset?!”

Sprout’s eyes widened as his face gave away his frustration. “Wh— No! I know you’re not just your stupid programming, Vee. You, okay? You, as a person. You’re important to me, alright?”

Oh. Okay.

The room abruptly fell into that familiar silence. The tension that seemed to hang above them like rain-filled clouds grew heavier, leaving them both with an unnerving feeling in the shape of stillness while the shock settled in, pelting them in a similar way that chilled water droplets from the sky did.

Vee quickly became aware of a methodical beep in her head and a pop-up on the inner side of her screen. She internally cursed; this hasn’t happened in a while.

She knew exactly what the alerts signified, and if she wanted them to stop, she’d have to leave Sprout’s room. However, something inside her body forced her to make no effort in satisfying the alarms. Her feet stayed planted to the floor, as though they were glued down with a paste she held in her hands. She wasn’t certain she could get herself to move even if she tried.

Sprout, on the other hand, appeared stunned at his own words. It was typical of him, to speak without thinking— whatever that meant for Vee. Flushness rapidly flooded his already hot face, and she didn’t need to think twice about it: he was embarrassed, rightfully so.

“Listen, um,” He spoke hesitantly, with his lip held captive between his teeth as he thought on how to articulate his words coherently, “I don’t think we’ll ever get along. That’s fine, I've accepted that. But, I don’t know.. When everything’s the same around here, it helps to have someone like you.”

Vee spoke, but realized she had nowhere to lead it into as soon as she did. The heat steadily increasing inside the walls of head did nothing but completely throw her off. “I.. Uh.”

“You’re unpredictable, you know?” Sprout ignored her meek decision to speak. His words almost overlapped each other, as if he was insistent on getting them out before they could be misconstrued. “And it sounds weird, but it helps me out. Mentally, I mean.”

“It helps you out.. Mentally.”

Vee’s question fell disgustingly flat, and it sounded more like a wry mockery of Sprout’s openness than a genuine query. She felt the grasp on her emotions continue to slip, heading in a downward spiral that could only lead in one direction if she didn’t get out right now.

“Whatever. Forget I said anything.” Sprout scoffed, then rolled his eyes in visible vexation. He didn’t, and couldn’t, feel surprise anymore. “I need to lie back down for a second.”

He’d somehow gone back to sitting upright during their argument. Despite his red face, the color of nausea had crept back into his cheeks. He was visibly out of breath, and the little spike in energy from arguing with Vee was sapped out of him as soon as it came.

“Are… are you ok?” Vee asked for the second time, in the same hesitant tone.

She regained her proximity to Sprout in her fit of concern, as she realized she should probably do more than just stand there with a mouth hung agape, like an idiot.

The strawberry sunk into his pillow, nodding. “Yeah, I’m— Oh. You’re— You’re very warm.”

The heat sent a pleasurable buzz down Sprout’s spine, clear in the satisfied noise that escaped his lips. Though his face was full of uncomfortable fervor, his body remained cold, aching for a proper remedy that wasn’t in the form of several blankets piled on top of him.

He’s sick. Just do this one thing for him. Vee leaned in the slightest bit, her warmth appreciated with the ghost of a smile.

“I’m overheating.” She then blurted, immediately clamping her mouth shut as soon as the statement left it. She couldn’t think straight, and the alerts rattling in her skull further begged for her attention, like a lost child who had wandered from their mother. What the hell?

Sprout’s short-lived pleasure became concern, in a bizarre stare and upturned eyebrows. If he couldn’t fall back on annoyance or nonchalance, his last option always seemed to be concern, for whatever reason. His kind-hearted nature never failed to cause issues for him.

“You’re..?” Sprout replied, lamely. He frowned. “Uh, just.. relax. You’ll be fine, right?”

Vee shook her head, like doing so would somehow make Sprout forget what she said. Regardless, she stayed quiet, hoping that diverting her attention from speaking would get her system to cool down, even if it was only slightly.

She ignored Sprout’s worried look, one that betrayed his lackluster reaction to the flustered TV in front of him. His eyes never left her, and she couldn’t blame him for it; it had been so long since she brought herself to the brink of overheating, so much so that even she felt a twinge of panic when the realization first dawned on her.

That troubled look brought back the uncomfortable feeling she had been getting so used to over the past few days. Vee wouldn’t be this close to overheating if she hadn’t pushed Sprout to his limit, and he wouldn’t be so sick if she had just been more careful. Guilt reared its ugly face again, and the pit in her stomach made it felt like it was toying with her wires in a sickeningly taunting way.

Guilt compelled her attentive eyes to linger over Sprout’s body. It wanted to unbury something far deeper inside her than she ever wished to look, forcing her hands to dig only to then throw the blame onto her. Whatever she was feeling, it was more than just guilt, but Sprout’s sudden insistence on the idea that he cared for her only served to muddle any clear indication of what else it may be.

“Thank you.” She finally stated, and only felt worse.

Sprout’s eyebrows furrowed, and his concern was gone in an instant. “Huh? For what?”

“For healing me. I would’ve been fine, but,” Vee struggled to speak. It’s not that she didn’t want to have this conversation, but every single nerve in her body sent distress signals each time she tried. “I can… still appreciate what you did for me.”

Sprout laughed, completely out of nowhere. It was quiet and weak, but his head still tilted back and his eyes scrunched up when he did, complimenting the sound. The contrast to his demeanor mere seconds ago securely landed itself as warmth on Vee’s cheeks.

“Man, you really don’t know how to express gratitude normally, do you?”

The cord to her microphone made its presence known by slamming the heavy object attached to it on the ground with a hefty force, recalling Vee’s tendency to easily become frustrated into Sprout’s head.

He appreciated the microphone, as weird as it sounded. The long cord was both a visual and audible cue that told him to watch where he was going, and when Vee’s feelings were something even she didn’t fully understand or grasp, when Sprout played his cards right, it was the one thing that stood between making their conversations a useless interaction that lead to nothing but fighting.

“Sorry, I’m kidding! I’m kidding, I…” He began, getting the apology out quickly, in case Vee had already made her own assumptions. His voice started off strong, though as he continued to watch her face and body language, his concern took the reins, leaving him with a statement that awkwardly trailed off. She was uncomfortable, visibly so.

“I don’t… You don’t have to do—” his eyes motioned to her, reminding them both how close she was to him, “—all this, y’know.”

“I just feel so guilty, Sprout,” Vee blurted without thinking, again. Her words were delicate, and the edge that she usually kept intertwined with them was nowhere to be seen. “And I— I don’t know how to stop it.”

“Woah,” Sprout’s eyes widened, like he was expecting quite literally anything else to come out of her mouth. “don’t, Vee. We’re both fine, right? That’s what matters in the end.”

Somehow, even with Sprout’s attempt to soothe her, the pit in her stomach only grew heavier. She didn’t know how to take it all in— her sudden openness, Sprout’s desire to help her, and the fact that he cared about her more than he had ever said to her face— not to mention, the newly forming thought that it might even be reciprocated on her end— it overwhelmed her processing.

“But you’re so sick, and I,” She tried to argue, though it came out more like a weak attempt at convincing herself that this situation was in her favor. Her focus never left Sprout’s face, searching for a wordless solution to her problems in the form of an expression.

Sprout cut her off gently. “Hey, I did that to myself. I’ll be better in no time, trust me. I just need some rest.”

Vee wasn’t satisfied. The need to dispute compelled her, even though there was no end goal in sight. “Right, and you made it worse by putting yourself at risk for me. I don’t—”

“I’m not the one made of glass, Vee.” He stated, a little bluntly. “Listen, you’ve gotta chill out. At least for a second. You’re starting to overheat again.”

Oh. She hadn’t even processed that the beeping in her head had picked up again, now urgently and at an increased volume. The heat she was producing must have begun to make Sprout uncomfortable, as he shifted awkwardly underneath the blankets.

“Are you okay?” He asked when he noticed her composure start to slip.

She didn’t answer.

“Vee, are you okay?” He asked again, with more pressure than before.

“Yeah, I’m…”

There was a hand approaching her face. She cut herself off abruptly, instead choosing to stare incredulously at it. Sprout had stopped before he made contact with her head, his arm outstretched just slightly before it. He didn’t need to speak for an understanding to be reached between them; he was silently asking for permission.

The moment lasted longer than he wanted it to, but Sprout resisted pulling his hand away until Vee said something. Her gaze worried him, however, and he feared the worst— would she judge him?

But she let him, or rather, closed the gap between them for him. Although hesitant, she tilted her head, letting Sprout’s hand come in full contact with the side of it before she could really think it over. She craved this: something to ground her, to tell her that she was okay.

He had flinched, shocked at how much heat was truly coming from her, though he soon began to relish the feeling, spreading his hand out so that it covered as much of Vee’s head as it could. In doing so, her face was unintentionally brought closer to his.

Sprout’s voice was completely wrecked. “Are you sure?”

The query could be taken several different ways. He wasn’t positive about what he was asking. Was Vee sure she was okay? Was she sure about what they were doing?

Both responses were firm nos. But somehow, seeing Sprout just as nervous as she was lit a fire in her stomach, melting the pit that previously occupied it. It was finally something other than pure dread. Vee had never once pictured him like this, but now that it was right in front of her, she couldn’t deny that she wanted more.

Her body seemed to move by itself, and the machinery inside her whirred rapidly to compensate for her internal temperature steadily rising, but she allowed it. She allowed herself to feel, to finally put her wants in the form of actions before a persona that only spoke facts, even if doing so left her vulnerable.

Sprout wouldn’t hold it against her, not when she was making an effort.

His question was wordlessly answered when she began to lean in. Bewilderment overtook his face for a split second, though when his lips finally softly met her hot screen, his eyes fluttered shut. Their bustling minds seemed to be instantly silenced, and the only thing they could focus on was each other.

It took a moment for the two to fully pull away. Even though Vee’s method of kissing was simply pressing her screen against Sprout due to her lack of lips, there was an invisible force bringing them together that wouldn’t let up. It was impossible to ignore, but when being so close incited such pleasure, it didn’t feel like a bad thing.

They were alone in the comfort of Sprout’s room. The lives they lived outside of his door were arduous and lacked the comfort they found in each other. Indulgence was guaranteed, in the form of breathless kisses and speechless proximity.

“Oh, God, I don’t know why I did that…” Sprout finally mumbled when they broke apart. “You’re so much hotter than before.”

“I know. It’s kind of hard to focus with the beeping in my ears.”

Sprout pulled his arms away suddenly, from where they had found themselves carefully wrapped around Vee’s neck. He stared daggers at her. “Has that been happening this entire time?”

When Vee remained silent, primarily to avoid taking accountability, because yes, it was, Sprout pushed her away. “Vee, seriously. You can’t be doing that.”

“I’m fine.” She retaliated, their usual bickering falling back into place. It was the same routine, but there was now a sense of intimacy that wasn’t there minutes before. A mutual feeling of understanding, comfortably nestled deep in the cracks of their words.

Vee still moved along with the sudden shove, choosing to stand a ways from Sprout’s bed now, despite the only thing she could focus on being the pink fingers that thoughtfully hovered over their owner’s lips. And the deep red that rushed his face in an enticing manner. And the conflicted expression he wore when she had leaned in to kiss him.

An indescribable fuzzy feeling coursed through her body, reaching down to her fingers and toes with a prickling sensation; Vee didn’t know if it was due to overheating, or being embarrassed, or both. Her thoughts were still catching up. She kissed Sprout, not the other way around, and he reciprocated. Why did she do that? Why did he do that? What did that even mean for them?

“You didn’t have to get that far.” Sprout spoke with hidden longing, toying with one of his leaves as he did. “...Are you sure you don’t want to sit down?”

“Sit down? On your bed?” She questioned, like he had just spoken another language.

“Uh… Yeah?”

Sprout patted the spot by his feet. Vee obeyed, although tentatively. The bed was softer than they had both anticipated; her heavy machinery sunk into the mattress with a depressing sigh. The bed was comfortable, and the mound of blankets Sprout had stolen were downy, the afterthought of laundry detergent wafting from them.

Neither of them spoke.

They couldn’t deny that it was painfully awkward. They had just shared a kiss, but here they were now, unable to find a single word to say to each other. Sprout was sure there were plenty of things running through Vee’s head, racing to make it through to her past the critical temperature warnings, but outwardly, she sat there quietly, fiddling with her hands in an attempt to ground herself.

He remained still and watched her. If she hadn’t been so preoccupied, he was positive she would’ve noticed him by now. He didn’t exactly make his lingering gaze a secret; he studied the intricacies of her framework, from every groove in her plating to every bolt that held her in place. He spotted the bump on the side of her head his fingers had brushed over when they were busy.

Sprout then parted his lips, but closed them soon thereafter when his brain denied him the privilege of coherent speech. There was nothing for him to say, nothing that wouldn’t point out the obvious or push Vee further into overstimulation.

It was uncalled for, but irritation threatened his psyche at his failure, although he wasn’t sure for what reason. Did he expect things to suddenly change, after a kiss, like the end of a movie? This was the real them, with real emotions and conflict, unlike the characters they were created to be, molded into little caricatures specifically for insignificant lessons and storytelling.

Vee kissed him with purpose, she wasn’t the type of person to act without it, and it certainly wasn’t for comfort either, because genuine panic radiated from her at the concept of frying her system because of it.

She acted with purpose, even if it was evident in her demeanor, akin to one of a thoughtful child, cheeks damp with drying tears after being scolded, that she didn’t fully understand her own system, or the things it made her do.

Vee broke the silence, proving the observations Sprout had made with astounding accuracy, “I want to be closer to you. Can I?”

Any irritation he had felt, or could’ve felt, was immediately thrown onto the backburner. She was always straight to the point. “...You’re still so warm, are you sure you’re fine?”

He avoided the request with intent. The heat would definitely be appreciated; something told Sprout that the way he reacted to it earlier was part of the reason why Vee wanted to be near him again. Although, if he was met with the same ardent tension they had created before, there was no certainty in his mind that he could stop himself from doing something that would serve to make Vee properly blow a fuse. He’d rather keep her at a distance if it meant keeping her safe, even if all he wanted to do was agree profusely to the question.

“The beeping stopped.” She said, and he wondered for a brief second if she could read his thoughts. “I’m ok.”

Sprout must’ve looked unconvinced, because she frowned and defended herself. “What? It did. Why would I lie?”

To get close to me again. Sprout bit his tongue, preferring the temporary disappointment of silence over fanning the flames that would circle them back to a completely different type of tension.

“Mm.” He acknowledged at last, as though he was mulling it over, as though he hadn’t made a decision the moment Vee had asked the question. “Okay, then.”

He moved over, leaving room for her to settle into at the edge of the bed, the sunken indent he’d left still wrinkled with sleep.

Vee didn’t move at first. She didn’t think Sprout would agree so simply, and so quickly too. She expected at least some sort of resistance, but he didn’t seem to have given his answer much thought. Relief echoed in her head, bouncing off the walls in a rhythmic pattern.

Physical actions were always easier to go through with than words, requiring less thought and direction in comparison to the vast array of vocables a walking dictionary like she was had. She attempted to swallow imaginary nervous saliva. Maybe that’s why she had closed the gap between them.

Gingerly, she shuffled across the bed to replace the dying warmth Sprout had left with her own. She settled into the plush bed, comfortably leaning back into the spare pillow that laid behind her.

Her beating heart, the one that pressed at her throat, refused to silence. Vee tried not to think too hard about their contiguity, even if it was the entire reason why she asked for permission to move closer; Sprout felt worlds away, despite the only thing that kept their arms from brushing against each other being 3 inches of space, existent solely for the excuse of politeness. She fed on the concept of intimacy that was certain to happen, like she had never been fed before, bloating her chest, in place of her stomach, with uncertain sustenance.

Vee caught Sprout angling his body towards hers subtly, his eyes squinting as he savored the sensation of shivers leaving his body, like he’d done when she first neared him.

She realized she was staring at him— from the discolored leaves on his head, to the grip he held on the hem of his blanket. He looked peaceful, half-dozing underneath the velvet fabric, and Vee wondered if he always appeared so, or if he was just sickeningly tired.

Sprout was perpetually preoccupied with keeping the other Toons both fed and in line. There was always something on his plate, whether it be cooking, or baking, or attempting to heal stubborn individuals who turned their nose up at the thought of receiving help. If Vee were in his place, she’d experience countless restless nights.

He deserved communication from her, just as much as she deserved the patience he so selflessly gave, when he barely had any left to give.

“Sprout,” The word came out foreign, and so did the following ones when determination swiftly turned into discomfort. “about the…”

“It’s okay. I think we’ve done enough talking for today.” He replied, unmoving, save for the tiniest twitch of his eyes. There was no doubt in the topic of discussion, in either of them.

“But, when we—”

“Vee, can’t we talk about it when I feel better?” It was spoken more like a command now, rather than a suggestion, even if the command was weak and sleepy.

She nodded after a moment, remembering how disgusting he might’ve been feeling. Sprout’s sickness somehow always ended up somewhere in the back of her mind, behind everything else that occupied it; it was easy to forget, simply because she’d never experienced anything like it before. She didn’t envy the fact that illness was one of the things that alienated her from the organic toons.

There was a long period of silence, until Sprout spoke again, and turned it into a pause. “Besides… You’re not planning on going anywhere, are you?”

Don’t look down. Sprout shifted from the corner of her eye, drawing attention to himself as he spoke.

Vee disobeyed herself, choosing to quickly glance down in Sprout’s direction, though she almost instantly regretted the decision. Sprout was looking up at her, from where he laid, his shoulder now flush against hers. The sudden contact had caught her by surprise, and the fans inside her body regained relevance in her brain as they began to pick up speed, the internal temperature of the TV threatening to rise again.

Even though Sprout’s question was simple, and contained no pressure for her to stay, there was a hidden want behind it— a desire he couldn’t bring himself to ask verbally and so directly, just as Vee had done.

Did she seriously still give the impression that she wanted to leave?

He helped her out, mentally. Sprout’s comment suddenly clicked into place, and it all made sense.

Even past all their history, and all of Vee’s mixed emotions, he was nothing short of a magnet to her, and all the metal in her body was dangerously attracted to him, content to ignore all the warning signs in favor of emotional wants that manifested themselves in impulsive actions.

And she gave in, grabbing his wrist gently. It was impetuous, but Sprout took it as an invitation to move his hand further, sliding it directly under her palm, as though he had been waiting for the go-ahead. Why did he always know exactly what to do, to make her want more of him and his newfound tenderness and make her fall deeper in this mess?

“No.” Vee’s voice was quiet, and so much more broken than she intended it to sound. “No, I'm not.”

A blanket of relief fell onto both of them. Vee watched Sprout audibly exhale, seemingly expelling all the doubts he had in his skull with a breath, as he took it upon himself to further lean into Vee. He was fully engaging in her warmth now, knowing that this gentle confirmation from her was his consent to press forward, because she was still far from being in a position where she could fully verbalize her wants and let her walls down without coming off as backhanded or inconsiderate.

They were still holding hands— or rather, Vee’s hand was still gently placed on top of Sprout’s. His felt cold, but she assumed it was due to the major difference in temperature between an organic being and an overheating robot, even with his fever.

There was nothing more to be said.

Vee would be dead before she finally closed that mouth of hers for good, but in this specific scenario, more speech would be redundant, especially if Sprout would most likely shut it down anyway. Besides, she didn’t want him feeling worse because of her, as she’d already done so twice in the span of an hour, and if that meant waiting for him to fully recover to discuss what this meant for them, she was fine with waiting, even if fine wasn’t satisfaction.

She squeezed his hand, and he subtly nestled deeper into her in response. Vee felt her fans sputter in retaliation; there was something so odd to her about this, to be in this position with a person she had convinced herself she had nothing but a work relationship with mere days ago.

While Sprout had his distinct personality and admirable traits that could be observed by viewing from afar, there was nothing about him, or anyone really, that made Vee go out of her way to search for him. It was only until she had truly gotten close, physically and mentally, and saw a demeanor from him that she’d never seen before, and was sure no one else had either, that made her search. It had toggled something in her head, and all those observations she had made about him started fitting together like a puzzle. It left her craving more; to see more, to feel more, to hear more.

She sat with those feelings, letting them wash over her, just as Guilt did, without putting in much thought. She could think about it more when they properly spoke. At the moment, the only thing she could seem to think about for more than five seconds was the mattress underneath her weight, and the body pressed against hers.

It was a little too comfortable. Vee wasn’t sure when the last time she felt so relaxed was— similar to Sprout, she was always busy, but in her own way.

The only noises left in the room was the rhythmic whir of machinery, and the strawberry’s soft breathing.

“Y’know,” Sprout randomly whispered, and Vee tried to hide the momentary scare he gave her. She assumed he’d already fallen asleep, so she had begun to doze as well. “When we—”

The door swung open. The lights flickered on a heartbeat afterward.

There wasn’t a single second wasted before Vee was up, both feet planted on the floor like she’d been there the entire time. Sprout, however, clumsily slumped head first into the Vee-shaped indent on his bed, landing in the sheets with huge, startled eyes. Neither of them tried to get a word in; whoever walked in was already speaking.

“Morning, Sprout! I know you said not to come in here, but I brought some— Oh.” Cosmo finally took notice of Vee, who was standing directly in front of him with a look that was anything but casual. “Hey, Vee. You’re… Still in here?”

He immediately attempted to change his wording, his star-littered cheeks darkening. Vee considered how high-strung Cosmo might’ve been as of late, and how offended she must’ve come across, even if it was unintentional. “N-Not that that’s a bad thing! I just didn’t expect it, is all. Um—”

Cosmo’s concern was evident in the way he held the china platter he’d arrived with in his hands; he gripped the porcelain tightly, and in a manner that told anyone looking at him that it wasn’t just because he was scared of dropping it. The hot teacup on the plate, presumably courtesy of Teagan, remained unmoving.

“We got caught up talking.” Sprout quickly took over, now sitting upright. This has never happened, not once. “Talking about…”

He not-so-subtly glanced at Vee, silently asking for help in finding some bullshit excuse with his eyes. Sprout was very good at that, rushing into speech without a proper plan of action. It was blatantly obvious, and Vee wanted to tell him off for it, but she’d directly throw herself under the bus in the process.

“What the plan is, for when he recovers.” She said, endeavoring with all her might to sound at least somewhat casual, but her earnest shot was completely in vain.

“Mhm.” Sprout added lamely.

Vee’s microphone cord lashed against the bed with a sudden thunk, highlighting her annoyance at Sprout’s inability to stay relaxed. She’d never seen him so uncool, especially in Cosmo’s presence, but she reckoned they acted leagues differently when they were alone together.

The pastry laughed awkwardly. The tone in his voice rang clear; he didn’t believe them, as he obviously wasn’t dense, but his core character would rather let them believe whatever they wanted instead of calling them out on it. “Haha, right..”

Something on Sprout’s nightstand caught his eye, and his gaze darted to the table in an attempt to peek subtly. “Uh, nevermind that, though. Did you like the pancakes Vee brought you? I made them. But she probably told you that already!”

Sprout took the bait instantly, perking up excitedly at the opportunity to talk about something other than the TV beside him still being in the room. “Oh, yeah! They were good. I really liked the, uh, Skill Check candy, those are my favorite.”

Cosmo smiled stiffly, but Vee could’ve sworn there was some sort of satisfaction in his expression, past the general discomfort. He inched closer to the bed, but didn’t say anything else.

If Sprout and Vee’s two-person silence was unbearably awkward, this was unbelievable in comparison. No party knew what to say— Cosmo was out of small talk already, and the newly formed duo was never on the same page, so communication on what to do wasn’t in the equation to begin with.

Wait, Vee thought to herself embarrassingly late, when the silence continued, they’re waiting for me to leave.

Her screen began heating rapidly, and she cleared her throat to distract from the fool she’d presumably made of herself. “I should get going,” she suggested, “time goes by fast when you’re not paying attention.”

Sprout made sure to look at the alarm clock on his desk when she spoke, then pretended to act shocked. She had been in the room for an hour, at maximum. “Man, would you look at that. Guess we got carried away. We can talk later, yeah?”

Vee didn’t need an ulterior tone to understand that we can talk later wasn’t in reference to their imaginary conversation. Her heart skipped a beat. “Yep.”

In her best efforts to not cause more of a scene, Vee simply nodded. She gave one last, very tense, smile towards Cosmo, then began making her way to the door. There was no physical resistance when she did: her tail followed her closely. The microphone was no longer trailing along on the floor and collecting dirt.

Vee exited the room without another second to spare. Her sensors felt heavy, clogged by the uncomfortable air that thickly covered the room. She closed the door, the handle of the knob shifting into place once fully shut. Once it did so, she exhaled heavily, dispelling all the built up tension in her body. Her breath was held hostage the entire time, despite the robot lacking the anatomy to do such a thing in the first place.

Curiosity crept up Vee’s spine when she realized Cosmo, without a doubt, wouldn’t wait to ask Sprout what they’d discussed. Vee was never near him—alone—for that long. While she’d normally just wander off without a care, knowing their imminent conversation involved her as a subject fueled the motivation she had to lightly press her head against the door she’d just closed, listening intently for any mentions of her name.

It was eerily silent on the other side. They were either waiting for her to leave, knowing she was outside the door, or talking very, very quietly.

Whatever. It didn’t matter. Vee rolled her eyes, pulling back with a huff. She folded her arms, deciding to just accept the fact that they were going to talk about whatever they saw fit.

She trusted Sprout not to run his mouth, or say anything that would betray her confidentiality. He wasn’t that type of person, no matter the reason. Regardless, that side of him was something she was certain no one else had ever been a witness to, and to go into detail would be to give himself away too.

She caught herself half-smiling at the mention of Sprout’s softer side.

The unknown, or rather, knowing what would be happening soon would be unpredictable, unnerved Vee. She didn’t know how Sprout would feel later, if his opinion on her would change after some thought, or if there would be something hindering them from properly taking the time to converse about this.

There was no use in thinking about it now. There was no stopping the inevitable; she just had to roll with the punches. Anything was better than the feeling of guilt, and that friend of hers was now nowhere to be seen. He was stomped out the moment she made physical contact with Sprout, and now resided in the shadows, with no clear motivation to step out.

Vee made it to the door of her room, and as she twisted the knob to let herself in, she recalled something vital.

Sprout’s pancakes were still on his nightstand.