Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hollow. 

A void to fill, ravaging as it is, eager to consume. A black hole, sucking in light and matter alike with no end in sight—no plan, either. What’s the fun in calculated destruction? Premeditated acquisition leaves room for hesitation, and Bender is not one to question himself; no room for doubt. 

One fembot had the gall to call him psychopathic, which he disagrees with. He’s opportunistic, hungry to conquer what life has to offer. 

Not once has he been satiated, though. He’s running toward the light at the end of the tunnel, digits outstretched for whatever’s beyond the gleam. So close, yet impossibly far. 

Does that stop him? 

Absolutely not. 

Bender lives to do as he pleases; to fuck, drink, and and steal at his leisure. 

Leisure’s the name of the game, too. For all his antics, there’s always room to laze about and indent himself into the couch. 

What’s there to enjoy in life when there’s no time to relax? Today’s no exception. No half-baked plans to dive into, no transports for Planet Express. No hookerbots or fembots vying for his attention—which, frankly, should be considered sacrilegious that he’s not being worshipped at this very moment. At least there’s no nagging, so cheers to that. 

Bender’s sitting on the couch in his apartment, watching TV. He has both legs propped up on the scratched-up coffee table. That thing’s seen better days, but it's got grooves that fit his titanium feet perfectly, so he wouldn’t trade it for anything. Unless he steals something better. Then he’ll toss that hunk of junk out his window. 

With a beer in hand and a Zuban cigar snug between his metallic teeth, Bender’s bulbs are honed onto the TV. His free hand taps against the grimy couch rhythmically to a tune stuck in his head. He’s captivated by Elzar creating culinary wonders behind the screen, a marvel to the 30th century. Seriously, that guy’s amazing.

For a meatbag. 

Commercials come on, and he huffs, lowering the TV enough for him not to be bothered. It’s a quiet night aside from a consistent, odd noise (likely something wrong with the fridge, damn humans and their need to keep their sustenance at a certain temperature). This isn’t usual, though—Fry’s often up late enough to be rowdy until he has to boot down in his room. They usually drink together and watch whatever they can find until then. Actually, why isn’t Fry here right now?

Bender wasn’t paying close attention earlier, but he’s fairly certain Fry retreated to his bedroom early. 

It irritates him, digs under his finish. Does that meatbag think he’s too good for him? Doesn’t want to stick to their routine, as if he has better things to do? What’s that sack of flesh got to do other than pine toward a one-eyed orphan that doesn’t reciprocate? 

What’s better than hanging out with Bender? 

Taking a swig, Bender drops the empty beer bottle on the floor, alongside the growing pile. The bottles clink loudly, and that weird noise stutters, then grows quieter. Bender squints his eyes and puffs out a cloud of smoke. What the hell is that? 

The sound is repetitive, unlike anything he’s heard before. It sounds organic. On second thought, it’s definitely not the fridge. 

Pulling out the cigar, Bender regretfully stubs it out on the ashtray, setting it down altogether. Best to investigate. It could be human-sized rats, or another pest he’ll have the thrill of putting an end to. No pest gets to live in his domain! Only the meatbag can since he’s pathetic and would die off quickly in the concrete jungle. 

Bender stands, meandering toward the source of the noise, all the while checking his software for potential causes. When he comes up empty, he realizes he’s standing in front of Fry’s door, which is slightly ajar. 

Intuition isn’t exactly Bender’s strong suit, nor was he programmed to be discreet, but something tells him to be cautious. Whatever this noise is, it better be interesting—Bender can hear Elzar in the background and it sucks to miss his favorite chef for whatever this is. Eyes narrowed, his hand comes up and pushes against the door, cracking it further, enough for him to take a gander into the bedroom. 

It’s dark, but Bender can make out movement. He switches to night mode and sees Fry lying back-first on the bed, sheets tangled between his legs, eyes scrunched shut. The human’s got some bizarre black device to his dick and is dragging it up and down the appendage. A sheen of sweat is on his forehead, and his face is flushed.

Oh. 

The meatbag’s masturbating. Bender’s heard of it—hell, he’s seen human dicks before. Online, on nights when Fry’s been out of the house, Bender’s taken a peek at what human anatomy is like. Not because he’s interested, he’s no robosexual, but curiosity got the best of him after Fry moved in, and he succumbed to a weird part of the internet. 

Whether or not he enjoyed looking up the bizarre porn human males were capable of is entirely out of Bender’s awareness. Mostly because he deletes unwanted thoughts the second they occur. 

It is interesting, though, now that Bender can see a human writhing in pleasure firsthand. It’s gross—Fry’s fleshy appendage is throbbing, and… wet. No wonder they keep those things hidden. The consistent squelch as Fry sinks the toy onto himself is gross. Interesting, though. But gross. 

Robots are clean and simple, no need to do much of anything other than plug in and trade electricity. That's what really interests him, fucking whatever fembot hussy catches his eye and moving on to the next. 

Not what's in front of him. A squirmy, bag-of-bones, fragile creature succumbing to his carnal desires that he can't get naturally, not with how many times Leela's rejected him by this point. Resorting to fucking a toy is pathetic at best, but what did Bender expect? Fry, although his best friend, is a weak-willed human. 

A quiet part reminds Bender that this is supposed to be a private event for humans, so he reaches for the handle to shut the door and leave his greasy friend alone. Enough ogling, he's not a virtuous man, but even he can recognize that Fry would be mortified if he found Bender staring. 

He'll definitely crack a joke or two at Fry's expense, though. Preferably in front of everyone, maybe at tomorrow's team meeting? The look on Fry's face is gonna be hilarious. A vile grin spreads across his mouth at the thought. 

Just as his digits latch onto the door, breathy moans cause him to freeze. “Bender…Ah, fuck, Bender, just like that…”  

Oh, fuck. 

The robot's frozen, CPU overclocking to try and make heads or tails of the situation. There's a 0.3% chance he misheard and Fry said something else completely. Like Blender or Fender. That would be more believable than—

“I'm g-gonna cum,” Fry breathes out, hips buckling under the toy. “Bender, oh fuck—Bender, please—” 

The door shuts harshly, to Bender's dismay—he didn't mean to do it that loudly. Now the meatbag will know that he knows, and—this is bad. So, so bad. 

Hasty steps lead Bender to the kitchen, where he snags a beer. He chugs it and tosses it haphazardly on the floor, the bottle bounces twice before shattering. He grabs another and repeats the process, hoping to energize himself enough to understand what's happening. 

Surely he had just gotten critically low on alcohol and had a hallucination, and his best friend isn't a robosexual that's got his sights set on him. 

Four beers down is when he hears footsteps. He grabs a fifth beer, paying Fry no mind. 

“Bender,” Fry calls out, uncharacteristically timid. 

Fans start to whir in Bender’s head, trying to cool him down from within. Talking to Fry is the last thing he wants to do right now. Addressing whatever situation Bender's found himself in just isn't in the cards. Now, gambling and fucking some fembots sounds great, maybe he'll just leave for the night and pretend that none of this ever happened—

A hand touches his arm. He squeals, drops the bottle, and scrambles away from Fry, pressing his back against the fridge. 

A frown splits Fry's face. He's clad in his pajama pants now, bare chest rising and falling. It's clear he tried to wipe the sweat off his body, but his skin still has a flushed hue. 

“Bender, if you heard anything, I just…” Fry stumbles through his words, fidgeting and looking away. “It wasn't what it sounded like!” 

“Au contraire!” Bender barks back, taking a step forward, feeling emboldened by Fry's nervousness. “It really seemed like you were having a human wet daydream about me! I mean, the gall!” 

“No!” Fry cries out, waving his hands around wildly in front of him. “No, no, really, Bender, i-it was nothing!” 

“Nothing my shiny, metal ass,” Bender bites out, stepping forward and jabbing Fry in the chest. “You're a robosexual. I do understand why you'd pick me, but that's besides the point. I can't believe you! How long have you been obsessed with me, the perfect robot?!” 

Fry hangs his head, hands twisting themselves into knots. “I-I don’t…It won’t happen again. I’m sorry. I don’t want this to get between our friendship.” 

Bender crosses his arms and taps his foot. On one hand, it’s pretty flattering that Fry couldn’t resist him. No human or bot on this Earth can pry away from the temptation of ones and zeros that constitute Bender. Honestly, it’s not even that surprising. On the other hand…

Hm. What’s the downside to this? 

“Alright,” the robot settles on, waving a dismissive hand. “It won’t get between us. But you have to keep this shit to yourself. Seriously, Fry, don’t let anyone find out about the fact that you're into me. I’ve got a reputation to uphold, and if people start finding out I’m fraternizing with the likes of you, they’re gonna think I’m into humans or something. Which I’m not.” 

Fry winces and scratches the back of his head, seemingly unable to make eye contact. “Yeah, yeah, I know…Sorry Bender. I won’t bother you with this ever again.” 

“You better not! Now, bask in the glory of how kind and gracious I am for not kicking you out and ruining your relationships with your friends,” Bender spreads his arms and shuts his eyes, fully anticipating the meatbag to worship him in some capacity. When he’s met with silence, an eye cracks open. 

Fry has an unreadable expression on his face, which quickly morphs to a blank look. “I get it,” the human deadpans, before turning around to walk away. 

“Hey!” Bender follows behind Fry, who starts to walk faster, beelining for his bedroom. “What is it about me that gives you the hots? Is it because of my good looks? My devious wit? The fact that I could fuck you relentlessly—” 

“Bender!” Fry whips around, brows furrowed and cheeks pink. “Stop! I already told you I won’t bother you about this ever again. Stop asking me questions about it!” 

“I have to know!” Bender counters, crowding into Fry’s space. Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. “Seriously, meatbag. Do you like just any strong and sensual bot that gives you the time of day?”

“No, it’s—”

Bender gasps, putting his hands up to his face. “You’ve fucked robots already, haven’t you? Am I simply a name on your list to cross off?! The unattainable Bender, that which you chase in others! Oh, the pain you must feel, never being able to achieve me!” 

Fry’s brow twitches. Oh, Bender must have struck a nerve—but can anyone blame him? It’s much too fun to tease the meatbag about his lecherous desires. 

“I don’t know, maybe I like you because you’re a huge fucking jerk,” Fry’s voice takes a dangerous edge. 

Bender laughs boisterously, “I mean, that much is obvious, Fry. Why don’t you tell me the real reason?” 

“And have you keep making fun of me? No thanks.” Fry turns around and enters his bedroom with Bender still hot on his heels. A perfectly timed foot in the door keeps the human from shutting him out completely. 

“Come on, buddy,” Bender pushes the door open, and Fry scowls. “Just tell me what you like so much about me and I’ll leave you alone.” 

The human crosses his arms, “No, Bender. Can’t you respect me for once in your life? Leave me alone.” 

They stare at each other, a battle of the wills. 

“Welp,” Bender steps back and lifts his hands in surrender. “I’m bored. You successfully bored me. Keep your filthy, fleshy secrets to yourself.” He walks back into the living room and plops down on the couch, noting that Fry shuts his door and locks it. 

…

The following day is as average as can be, if one could call Fry’s glum behavior normal. No one at work bats an eye at Fry’s attitude, though, likely assuming that he got rejected by Leela once more.

They’re having their daily meeting, and Bender's taken the opportunity to sort through his internal files.

“...and that’s where you lot will be headed, yes,” Professor Farnsworth nods as he turns off the hologram. Bender wasn’t paying attention, and he also doesn’t care. 

They begin to disperse, likely preparing for another delivery on the Planet Express ship. 

Leela loudly asks Fry, “Why’re you so down?” 

“So you didn’t reject him?” Amy questions, wide eyes glancing between Fry and Leela.

“Not this time,” Leela responds. 

“It’s nothing,” Fry insists, standing up. 

“Well, you look like shit,” Leela observes, tapping her chin. “I know something happened, and you’re a terrible liar, so fess up.” 

Bender laughs lowly, eyes narrowed and a smile on his grill. He rubs his hands together in excitement. “I know what’s wrong.” 

Just as Leela asks, “You do?” Fry hastily barks out, “Bender, no!” 

“Well, there I was, minding my own business, when suddenly I heard this noise, and when I went to investigate…” Bender starts the tale, gleeful to be captivating both Leela and Amy. And Hermes, but it looks like he’s debating whether or not to order them to work. “And bam! I see Fry masturbating!” 

Both Leela and Amy voice their disgust and Hermes storms out with a slew of curses. Fry appears shell shocked. Pale, wide-mouthed, and unable to protest Bender’s regailing. That’s the exact reaction Bender was hoping for. Now, for the hook, line, and sinker… “Yeah, and you won’t believe this part! He was jerking it to none other than—” 

Wait. 

“Than, uh…” Bender’s eyes shift back to Fry, who looks worse for wear. “...Than Leela,” he lamely states, and the girls eat it up. Leela says some scathing remark toward Fry, and Amy somehow whips it around to look bad on Leela, but Bender’s bulbs are focused on Fry. Who looks equal parts exhausted, grateful, and irate. 

A weird feeling bubbles in his circuits, so Bender quickly stalks out of the room. This time, Fry’s hot on his heels, and they reach the empty locker room quickly. 

“Bender, you’re being such a—” Fry balls his fists and shakes his head vigorously. “An ass!” 

“Tell me something new,” Bender retorts, crossing his arms and leaning against a locker. That odd feeling in him persists, and he does his best to ignore it. “Look, I didn’t say what actually happened, so don’t be such a wuss, Fry. It’s still our secret.”

Fry opens and shuts his mouth, heaves a sigh, and drops his shoulders. Defeat. Good, Bender much prefers obedient humans. 

“Just, cut it, will you?” Fry requests. 

“Yeah, yeah, quit nagging. Come on, we got a delivery to do,” Bender pushes off the locker and walks back into the main room, noting a distinct lack of footsteps trailing behind him. 

…

Although it takes only a day to reach the planet, it feels more like a century. Not that Bender does more than he’s required to, lugging what’s too heavy for the fleshy creatures when ordered to by ye ole Captain One-Eye. 

The atmosphere is off the entire way there. Fry even refused to sleep in the same cabin as Bender, like they always did—instead, he set his hammock up in the cargo bay, since the spare cabin is full of junk. Good riddance, if Fry wants to make it weird, Bender isn’t going to do anything to stop him. Frankly, Bender has treated the meatbag much too kindly throughout this ordeal; he’s the one who was victimized, treated like fuckmeat within Fry’s imagination. He’s perfectly content letting this weird tension play out. It doesn’t bother him in the slightest. No, he enjoys being without Fry so much so that he’s spreading his newfound freedom throughout the rest of the crew. 

“And that’s how I became the most incredible bending unit in all of Mexico,” Bender finishes the elaborate recount with a swirl of his digits. The story was mostly true, only half-embellished, and surely it will impress Leela, like it would’ve Fry. 

One-Eye didn’t face him the entire forty minutes of the story, dutifully piloting the ship. Didn’t say anything either. “Hey! Were you even listening?” He accuses. 

“Yes, Bender, your heroism knows no bounds,” Leela replies flatly. It’s good enough for him. “So what argument did you and Fry get into this time?” She clicks a few buttons on the steering console and stands up, facing Bender directly. 

“Argument? No argument,” Bender says, crossing his arms. “He’s just being a wuss.” 

“A wuss about what, exactly?”

“How should I know? You humans are too emotional and strange,” Bender asserts, fishing a cigar from his chest. He opens his mouth plate and bites down, hesitating when Leela glares at him. Grumbling, he opts not to light the cigar and places it back inside his chest. She’s always on his ass about not smoking on the ship. Something about it circulating. Why's he gotta care about their fleshy internal organs breathing in the fumes? 

“Well, his morale’s shot, and he rarely holds a grudge longer than a few hours. What did you do?” 

“What did I do?” Bender glowers at Leela, crossing his arms. “Why is it always me doing something wrong? Have you ever considered that Fry could be the one in the wrong? That he’s slighted me?” 

“I doubt it,” Leela rolls her eye. “If he had done something, you’d have thrown him into the shark-infested waters at the Shark-Infested Waters planet we were just at. So you definitely did something, and are now turning to me for company. As your captain, I order you to make amends and stop distracting me while I’m piloting the ship.” 

Bender grumbles something fierce before raising his voice, “One, you aren’t even piloting the ship right now. And two, I haven’t done jack shit. I’m not gonna make amends when Fry’s the one that’s being weird.” 

“That’s an order,” Leela reminds, making a shooing motion with her hands. 

Bender takes the cue, for some odd reason, and storms out of the room. Grumbling and cursing as he makes his way to the cargo bay, where he spots Fry snoozing on his hammock. He stands at the doorway, analyzing the meatbag. 

Why did he have to do anything? Seriously, Fry’s the one who started this weird tension situation. Bender was perfectly content to continue riffing on Fry behind closed doors. And semi-transparent doors. 

Bender storms over to the hammock, frustration building with each step, until he grabs the side of the hammock and pulls it so that Fry falls off. The meatbag screeches and crashes onto the ground face-first, groggily scrambling to his feet. “What the hell?!” 

“As decreed by Captain Leela: Stop being a wuss,” Bender relays, taking creative liberties on what she wanted to convey. 

Fry wipes the sleep out of his eyes and glares at him, “I’m not being a wuss, jackass. You’re the one that’s being an ass, you ass. Jerkface.” 

Bender groans. This is a lost cause, the meatbag has some stick up his ass and it’s not Bender’s job to reach in there and take it out. Still, this interaction is more thrilling than staring out the window. “What’s your problem, Fry? You’re the one who said, and I repeat, ‘I don’t want this to affect our friendship.’ But now you’re completely messing things up!” 

“I’m not the one who almost spilled the beans after insisting that I not tell anyone!” 

“Wuss,” Bender grouses, unhooking the hammock, fully intending to bring it back to their room. 

“I'm not a—hey!” Fry grabs onto the hammock, doing his best to tug it out of Bender's hands. It's a futile attempt. “I'm sleeping out here until we get back!” 

Bender's patience, although grand and majestic, wanes. Humans are too complicated, and it's causing Bender's CPU to work twice as hard. “I don't get it. First, you're thinking about me in bed, and next, you want nothing to do with me! Just pick one and stick with it.”  

Fry's still trying to pull the hammock out of Bender's hands, now prying at his digits, which don't budge. “I'm trying to pick one, but you keep bothering me!” 

Bender tugs his arms away with minimal force, which causes Fry to yelp in surprise and let go entirely. He extends his arms a few feet upward, and Fry jumps a couple of times, doing his best to latch onto the fabric. The human promptly gives up and glares at Bender. 

“You're being annoying!” 

“Flatter me some more,” Bender retorts, keeping his hands up. “Get over yourself and let's go back to being friends.” 

“I can't!” Fry replies hotly, hands balling into fists at his side. “I can't just forget this all happened, it's making my head hurt, and I've never thought so hard about something in my life!” 

“Why's it such a big deal? Robosexual or not, you're still my buddy. I don't care.” 

Fry opens and closes his mouth, face contorting in what Bender can only assume is confusion. “You don't care? That I like you?” 

“Like I said, my dearest meatbag, as long as no one knows, I couldn't care less what gets your rocks off,” Bender earnestly replies, a rare moment of sincerity from the bending unit. Maybe yesterday's antics had him feeling a little guilty. 

“Well…” Fry furrows his brows. “I don’t know. I still need time, or something. I have to think more.” 

“What more is there to think about? I’m incredible and amazing and caught your eye. I found out, and now we can both keep being best friends regardless.” 

“It’s not that easy, Bender—you wouldn’t understand.” 

Bender detracts his arms and drops the hammock, irritability spiking. What’s so damn complex that Fry has to be so mopey? Fry should just accept it and get on with his life. And yet, here they are, arguing in circles. It’s almost like Fry feels more than a fleeting—

{Thought Deleted.}

Bender blinks a few times. Huh. Guess whatever he thought about was unpleasant. 

What usually gets him feeling better during times like these? Fucking someone does the trick most of the time. 

“I know!” Bender declares, slamming his fist into his palm. “I’ll just take you to a robosexual bar when we get back, and help you meet someone. You can hit it off and live an amazing life with your robosexual buddy. No one will think I’m into you, because you’ll have a partner. And bam, we’ll be normal best friends again!”

Fry wipes his eyes and smiles weakly at him, “You’d do that for me?” 

“Sure, why not?” Bender grins, ruffling his friend’s hair. “What’re best friends for? I’ll have you know, I’m an excellent wingman.” 

“Thanks,” Fry sniffles. “Okay. I’ll move my hammock back." 

Chapter Text

Everything goes smoothly once they get back home. Fry has perked up, returning to his typical, goofy self. Leela is pleased. No one is the wiser in regards to what’s happened between him and Fry. Bender’s reputation is secure, and all is well. 

If only Bender could piece together why he keeps choosing to delete his thoughts. It’s jarring to blink back to awareness. It’ll happen randomly, too—when his bulbs have drifted to Fry at work, when they’re watching TV on the couch back home, when he’s walking into the ship with delivery items. The phrase Thought Deleted rings throughout his mind and leaves him stumped. 

Bender isn’t one to dwell too deeply into what he chooses to do, though, so he’s ignored it. 

A week passes, and the two are back to their usual antics.

They’re getting ready for their big night out at the robosexual bar, as promised. Fry’s taking a shower and Bender’s drinking beer on the couch, flicking through the channels. Nothing good is on, and a weird feeling is twisting in his circuits. 

Bender hears the water shut off, and Fry pops out not too long after, dressed in what can only be described as the human’s pitiful attempt at Sunday’s best. A white shirt that’s almost too tight for his frame, with baggy, blue jeans. His damp hair is sticking to his forehead, and he’s wearing his signature, dopey smile. 

“Do I look good?” 

{Thought Deleted.}

“Yep!” Bender replies, bouncing up onto his feet. “Looking like a million doubloons, meatbag. Get ready to have every manbot whistling in your direction! Now, let’s get this over with, shall we?” He starts to walk toward the door, stopped by the meatbag’s hand snagging his arm. 

“Hey, uh…I’m sure you already thought of this, but what if people think, we’re um…You know?” 

Oh. Bender hadn’t thought of that. “I’ve thought of that,” Bender replies coolly. “I’ll keep a respectful distance from you, which will signal everyone around that we’re just friends. Because that’s what we are.” 

“Oh, okay,” Fry nods, glancing at the hand on Bender. He slowly lets Bender go, and the two walk out the door. 

They embark on their journey. Thankfully, the bar (aptly named Lust ) is within walking distance. Fry prattles on about something or other, Bender doesn’t pay close attention, lost in thought. He’s going to have to take drastic measures to make sure people don’t get the wrong idea about himself and his meatbag friend. All he is is a supportive ally, one who acts as a wingman for his best friend. Nothing more, nothing less, and anyone who thinks differently will get a metal knuckle sandwich. 

When they arrive, it’s bustling with humans and bots alike, and the two have to wait in line for Fry to get carded. Music oozes out of the building, rattling Bender’s chest door lightly. There are too many victims—er, patrons for Bender to count. He’s like a kid in a candy store. No one would miss their wallets too badly, he thinks.

“Thanks, by the way,” Fry says, pulling Bender out of his pickpocketing daydream. 

“Don’t get all mushy yet, I still haven’t found you a bot to fuck.” 

“Yeah,” Fry laughs. 

They inch forward in line, nearly at the entrance. 

“What’s your type?” Bender asks because he’s got to know if he’s going to be a successful helper. 

Fry’s face flushes, “Strong, someone that can make me laugh, and uh…I don’t know. Someone I get along with?” 

Bender rolls his optics, “Come on, meatbag. That’s way too general. What kind of bots have you fucked already? Give me an idea of what they look like so I can hunt them down, at least.” 

“Well, there was one fembot…But I didn’t enjoy it that much. And there was one manbot…” Fry starts to count his fingers as he mutters, reaching the second hand. 

Bender hoots and smacks Fry’s back, earning an oof. “Slow it down, meatbag! What’s your body count?” 

“Uh, like ten robots.” 

{Thought Deleted.}

“You ever dated any?” 

“Never,” Fry shakes hs head, stuffing his hands in his pockets and slouching. “Hasn’t worked out like that.” 

“We’re changing that tonight!” Bender claims, pounding a fist to his chest for good measure. 

They reach the front of the line. The bouncer, a large manbot, scans Fry’s ID, and they slip inside. It’s chaotic, metal and fleshy bodies crammed together like sardines. Bender’s leading them, but for a brief moment, he loses Fry in the masses. Once he finds that head of red hair, he grabs the meatbag’s wrist and drags him along until they reach the bar. 

Fry’s head is on a swivel, so Bender takes it upon himself to place their order. Lucky for both of them, he snagged a wallet in the sea of bodies, so he shoves the cash toward the bartender. Once their drinks are produced, he hands one to Fry and skulls his own. 

“Alright,” Bender starts, bulbs landing on quite the fembot. “Us standing together won’t do your dating prospects any good, so I’m going over there.” He slips away, leaving Fry to fend for himself. Surely, he’ll do fine—ten bots as a human is nothing to sneeze at. 

That promising fembot turns out to be a dud with a fleshy boyfriend. Right, he almost forgot this was a robosexual joint. Most, if not all, the bots here have a hard-on for humans. Seems like he’s not scoring tonight. Bender roams around the floor aimlessly for a while, picking up a few wallets until he grows bored enough to wander back to Fry. 

As he navigates around the bodies, he spots Fry speaking animatedly with someone, sitting at the bar. The closer he gets, the more a weird feeling inside him builds, until he’s standing a few feet away from his best friend and a tall, sleek manbot. The two are unaware of his presence. 

Fry’s got a shy smile on as he speaks, and the manbot is honed in on what the meatbag’s saying. The manbot reaches a hand out and places it on top of Fry’s. 

{Thought Deleted.}

{Thought Deleted.}

{Thought Deleted.}

Bender shakes his head, trying to clear his vision. Forcibly ejecting whatever those thoughts are feels like he’s skipping time; it’s jarring. 

Whatever, he’s got to focus—he’s a wingman , after all. He has to do what he came out here to do. Closing the distance, Bender wraps an arm around Fry’s shoulder and smiles as wide as a robot can toward the newcomer. The manbot pulls back, keeping his grimy hands to himse—

{Thought Deleted.}

“Howdy, partner!” Bender greets the other bot with faux warmth. 

“Hey Bender!” Fry grins, patting Bender’s chest. “I was just telling Copper about you!” 

Copper, huh? Sounds suspicious. Part of being a wingman includes spotting what Fry can’t—any toxic, weird manbots he needs to chase away. Bender’s eyes narrow, looking Copper up and down. He’s a sturdy robot, could probably scrap if it came down to it. Copper returns the gesture, optics scanning up and down. If the two of them could bristle, they would’ve by now. 

“Ah, yes, you’re the best friend I’ve heard so much about already. It’s very nice to meet you. Fry was just telling me you’re not a robosexual yourself? You’re just tagging along to be a, um, wingman , correct?” 

“Yup! I’m no human-loving degenerate,” Bender affirms, pointedly keeping his eyes on Copper.

Fry, completely unaware of the tension, tries to squirm out of Bender’s grip, but he holds him tighter to keep him still. 

Copper leans further back and crosses his arms. “I used to say the same thing, you know. Hating humans indiscriminately like every other bot.” 

“Let me guess, you had a change of heart and decided to fetishize them instead?” Bender asks, subconsciously snaking his arm tighter around Fry’s neck, who revitalizes his efforts in squirming out of Bender’s grasp. Both robots are ignoring him entirely now. 

“Fetishize is such a poor choice of words,” Copper shakes his head. 

“Yeah, well, that’s what you’re doing, right?” Bender’s tone drops, hostility taking shape. “Hoping to use unsuspecting meatbags to fulfill your twisted desires.” 

“Bender, I can’t breathe,” Fry rasps, and the two robots finally look at the human. Bender releases Fry, but remains close to his friend’s side. “Geeze, you always forget your strength!” 

“You’re just weak,” Bender retorts without heat, patting Fry’s head and sliding his hand down until it’s resting on the human’s back. “Copper, you wouldn’t believe how many times Fry’s almost gotten himself killed. Humans have a knack for that, don’t they?” 

Copper’s optics slide from Bender to Fry, before slotting themselves on the bending unit, clearly unimpressed. “I’ll give you some advice, Bender. If you’re trying to be a wingman, don’t be so possessive.” 

It takes half a second to register what the other robot said. It takes Bender the other half to become enraged. “What are you implying, scumbag?!” He growls, taking a step toward Copper. 

The offending bot raises his hands. “Plenty of robots are robophobic before they find themselves. I believe they call it projection.” 

“I’ll kill you!” Bender snarls. 

“Bender, calm down!” Fry quickly gets up and stands between them, facing him. “What’s up with you?! I thought you were supposed to be helping!” 

“I am helping! Helping make sure you don’t get with any run of the mill sleazebag like this piece of shit!” 

Copper scoffs and stands up, “It was nice meeting you, Fry. Feel free to reach out to me whenever you want to hang out without your… ally .” The robot walks off, blending in with the crowd in seconds. 

Fry focuses his attention back on Bender, positively fuming. “What the hell was that?! I’m pretty sure you just ruined my chances!” 

“Delete his number,” Bender demands. “That guy’s a freak, Fry, he’s just gonna use you for your body!”

“That’s what I’m here for!” 

“No, we’re here to find you a robot boyfriend! Not someone that’ll hit and quit! Now, delete his contact. I don’t want you talking to that manbot ever again!” 

A weird look crosses over Fry’s features, one Bender can’t decipher. The meatbag slinks back into the barstool and hunches over. 

“You can’t boss me around, Bender,” Fry sips on his drink. “If I just score a lay, that’s fine. It’s gonna take a long while to find someone that wants to date me.” 

Bender starts to cool off. Literally—his body expels some steam, which exits through his mouth plate and chest. He’d gotten a bit too riled up, but who wouldn’t? This is his best friend, for Mom’s sake. No degenerate bot is going to take over Fry’s life, not if he has a say in it. 

And maybe—

{Thought Deleted.}

“Stop being so pathetic or else you’re going to be swarming with creeps!” 

“I don’t see why you care so much. If I didn’t know any better—”

“You don’t.” 

Fry glares. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re jealous! Copper’s right! You’re pro-whatever!” 

Bender’s eye twitches, and steam oozes out of him, his hardware desperately trying to cool down. A system warning flashes across his vision. 

{Overheating. System Unable to Cool Down.}

The meatbag’s determined expression falters, mouth agape and eyes wide. “I-I’m sorry, Bender, I didn’t mean to—”

“Can it, meatbag,” Bender gruffly cuts him off, exhaling a cloud of steam. He’s starting to shake, his CPU running through violent options too fast for him to register. He shoves a digit onto Fry’s chest, “You’re gonna get this through your thick fucking skull right now or else. I’m not interested. Never have been, and never will be.”

{Thought Deleted.}

“If you want to twist my kindness toward you, turn it into something it’s not, be my guest—but you won’t be crashing at my place anymore if that’s the case. You can live on the streets for all I care. Then you can throw your ass to any bot with cash! Get laid to your heart’s content! I bet you’d happily do that with the way you’re acting!” 

A pained expression cuts into Fry’s features. Bender pivots and roughly shoves the masses out of his way as he exits the building. Determined to leave before anything else happens and what's left of their friendship crumbles to dust. If Fry wants to act like a hussy, fine. But he’s not going to get his reputation dragged in the process. 

It takes the whole walk home for the system warning to disappear. Stupid Fry, making Bender act like the bad guy. What’s so wrong about setting and maintaining a boundary? 

Entering the apartment doesn’t help his mood whatsoever. Fry’s essence is everywhere, tainting his sacred abode with human filth. Maybe Bender should just kick Fry out and be done with their friendship. It’d vastly improve his mood in the long run, not having to navigate this complicated mess anymore. 

But—

{Thought Deleted.}

…

Bender wakes up on the couch, delirious. A system warning is plastered across his vision, blinking repeatedly, he can’t make out what it says. He groans and slumps forward, collapsing onto the ground. A weak laugh escapes him, CPU barely able to form simple sentences. Shaky arms push him up, and he staggers to his feet, holding his head. 

He tries to access his memory of last night. The files are corrupted. 

Glancing at the couch reveals a large stain where he was sleeping, but he doesn’t have the mental acuity to piece together what it could be.  

Bender groans, shutting his eyes and swaying on his feet. He takes a second to try and read the system warnings. 

{Fuel Critically Low. System Failure. Replenish Immediately.}

It barely makes sense to him; he drank last night. Why is he this low?

He drags his feet to the fridge, where he struggles to pull out a beer. It takes him several, bumbling tries to grab it, knocking over condiments and other bottles. He finally latches onto one. Chugging it offers immediate relief.

{Fuel Very Low. System At Reduced Capacity. Replenish Immediately.}

“Yeah, yeah,” Bender grunts as he grabs another bottle, flicking the cap off. Before he slams it, his optics land on the couch, honing in on the stain.  

{Fuel Very Low. System At Reduced Capacity. Replenish Immediately.}

Though his memory is shot, Bender can put two and two together. He must’ve manually emptied his tank—or, better put, he Drained himself. It’s one way to get royally fucked up, with the price being system corruption. If he’s lucky, the corruption ends at last night’s memories. 

{Fuel Very Low. System At Reduced Capacity. Replenish Immediately.}

He brings the bottle up to his mouth plate and tilts it, slowly drinking as he processes the situation. This is a tad drastic. Draining is an act that some bots do when they’re in distress, and it’s often portrayed in the media as the lowest point of their lives. Bender’s known a few robots that have gone permanently offline from doing this. 

{Fuel Low. Replenish Immediately.}

It doesn’t surprise him that this happened. Bender isn’t afraid of dying, so toying with his life is nothing new. But the reason he’s done it this time is alarming. 

Was it because of Fry? 

No. It can’t be, he’s not a damn pansy. He wouldn’t have Drained because of Fry. Sure, he’s let his fuel get low because of Fry, but he’s never Drained himself for anyone. So there must be another reason, one that eludes him because he can’t recall last night. Whatever the case, he’s done dwelling on it. What’s done is done and Bender is alive and well, so screw it. He downs a few more beers until his system stops annoying him and meanders to the living room. 

Finally able to think clearly, Bender takes note of the state of the apartment. The coffee table’s smashed, and the remote is lodged into the TV. The couch is stained, and all posters are ripped off the walls. 

For the first time in Bender’s life, he feels embarrassed. 

Bender’s eyes land on Fry’s door. He walks up to it and tentatively knocks. “Fry? You there?” 

No response. 

Opening the door slowly, Bender glances in. The room is empty, and it’s just as messy as it was the night before. Untouched. He heaves a mechanical sigh of relief that he didn’t also trash his best friend’s room and shuts the door. See? If he was feeling any type of way about the meatbag, he’d’ve set this room ablaze. 

{One-Eye is Calling.}

Great. Just what the person he wanted to talk to. 

Not. 

He hangs up, muttering obscenities. She calls again and in a moment of poor judgment, Bender picks up the call. 

“Bender,” Leela’s voice is curt. “I’m sending you my address. If you don’t show up in an hour, I’m hunting you down.” 

“Leela,” Bender greets in a cheery tone. “I’ve checked my calendar for today, and you won’t believe it, but I’m booked up! Let’s reschedule when you find a boyfriend. Or better yet, a husband!” Bender laughs heartily.

“If you even give a single damn about Fry, you’ll show up.” 

“Is he okay?” The question is so sincere, it catches him off guard. 

Leela’s tone notably softens, “He’s fine now. He showed up at my place at three AM. It’s the drunkest I’ve ever seen him.” She sighs, and Bender hears her shuffling something around. “I’m serious about hunting you down. You’ve got an hour.” 

The line disconnects before he can get a word in edgewise. 

…

At an hour on the dot, Bender knocks on Leela’s door, and she opens it not long after. 

“Where’s the meatbag?” Bender questions as he saunters in, spotting Fry dead asleep on the couch. “Alright, I got it from here, Toots.” 

“Oh no you don’t,” Leela quickly steps between the two, crossing her arms and narrowing her eye. “You’re going to explain what the hell’s going on.” 

Bender tuts, mirroring her body language. “Ain’t nothing to explain, Captain. Also, none of your business.” 

“I’m not asking as a captain, Bender. I’m asking as a concerned friend. I’ve never seen Fry this upset,” she explains, glancing behind her. Fry begins to snore lightly, and she smiles warmly. A weird feeling spikes inside him. Her smile falls when she looks back at Bender. 

Bender taps his digit onto his arm, looking away. This is irritating all around. “Stick your concern where it don’t shine, Cyclops.”

Leela sighs, dropping her shoulders. “Look, I wanted to give you the space to be honest, but you’re clearly incapable of doing that. I know Fry likes you.” 

Bender freezes. 

“And I also know you’ve been rejecting him. I completely understand that you’re not robosexual. And that’s not the problem here; everyone is entitled to their preferences. Hell, I can’t count how many times I’ve rejected Fry. The problem is that you two are living together.”

She glances back and continues speaking in a hushed tone. “Fry’s emotions run deep. If he likes you as much as I think he does, it’s unhealthy for the two of you to be living together. I was thinking about asking Amy if he can borrow one of her apartments until he can get on his feet.” 

But I like him too. 

{Unable to Delete Thought. System Corruption. Try Again.}

I like him so much it hurts. 

{Unable to Delete Thought.}

He’s mine. You can’t take him away from me. 

{Unable to Delete Thought.}

Bender remains stock still, his world crumbling apart around him. He can’t digest all of this information at once. A million questions arise, and a million more fears crash into him. His temperature spikes. 

“Bender?” 

“You’re always sticking your damn nose where it doesn’t belong,” he growls, but his voice is strained. “None of this involves you. I’m taking Fry back home.” 

I need Fry. 

{Unable to Delete Thought.}

“Bender, you can’t,” Leela asserts. “It’s not right.” 

“Who the fuck are you to tell me what I can or can’t do?” Bender raises his voice. Steam pools out of his mouth. “I can do whatever the fuck I want.” 

I need him. 

{Unable to Delete Thought.}

“You’re not taking him. Not until he wakes up and decides for himself.” 

What if Fry doesn’t want to come back?

{Unable to Delete Thought.}

“Like hell I’m waiting for that,” Bender takes a menacing step forward. Leela gets in a fighting stance, fists up. 

“Guys?” Fry questions groggily. The two look at him in surprise, tension broken. He’s disheveled, skin gaunt, flushed, and sweat is sticking hair to his face. “Can you two stop talking? I’m so hungover.” 

He’s so cute. 

{Unable to Delete Thought.}

{Overheating. Emergency Shutdown Imminent.}

Bender feels like a cornered animal. His thoughts are running rampant, Leela isn’t letting him get what he wants, and Fry…

I love him. 

{Unable to Delete Thought.}

Bender starts to shake. 

“I told you not to tell anyone, Fry.” Bender’s voice crackles, electricity shooting throughout his system. He takes a wavering step back, sparks flying and steam billowing out of every nook and cranny. “Now look at what y-yo—u’ve done. I-I-I t-to—ld—” 

“Bender!”

{Initiating Shutdown Sequence.}

Chapter Text

{Rebooting. Time Spent Shutdown: One Hour. Diagnostic Scan Indicates Corruption Still Present. Resolve Corruption? Estimated Time to Resolve: Twelve Hours.}

Resolve the issue. 

{Error: Manual Reboot in Progress. System Restoration Postponed.} 

“Do you think it worked?” 

“It should’ve. The thing on my arm said pressing this will force him back up.” 

Bender’s visor slides up. “Ugh,” he sits up, rubbing his head as he takes in his surroundings. Rebooting always slows him down, his system recalibrating itself. It takes a few seconds for him to see Fry and Leela in the right colors. 

“It worked!” Fry cheers. 

“What worked?” Bender questions, realizing his chest plate is open. He promptly shuts it. “Did you two force me to boot up? I’ll have you know, that’s incredibly invasive!” 

“Sorry, Bender. I made Leela do it. You looked dead!” 

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t,” Bender huffs, standing up. “How would you feel if I smacked you awake in your sleep?” 

“You’ve already done that, and I didn’t like it,” Fry points out. 

“Exactly! So don’t ever do that again.” 

“Alright, you two,” Leela says, clearing her throat. “I think it’s about time you spoke to each other civilly and figured things out. Bender, I’ve already contacted Amy, and she’s having people set up the apartment as we speak. I’ll be in my room if you need me.” 

Bender watches her leave, thoughts chugging. His recent memories, now accessible, flood into him. The last thought he had was…

“So, guess this is it, huh?” Fry offers a small smile, cutting into Bender's brooding. “Sorry I ruined things between us. I hope we can still be friends eventually.” 

Bender flexes his hands, staring at his feet. He simulates what it would be like to be honest, even if that is intimidating. In rapid succession, it all ends horribly—in a thousand iterations, Bender can't compute a reality where things work out. He's not built for a relationship, and he knows that's what Fry would want eventually. He's a free bot, fucking whoever catches his optics. 

Bender can't change who he is for a mere human. 

But I want to. 

{Unable to Delete Thought.} 

The only tried and true reaction is putting up his usual front. Sure, it's the easy way out, but at the end of the day, it's better for both of them for him to keep his mouth shut. Whatever feelings he may have will fade; Fry will move on, and things will return to normal again. 

“Can't blame you too much,” Bender shrugs, fishing out a cigar. He fits it into his mouth plate, but doesn't light it. Damn Cyclops would have a conniption. “You ruin shit. It's what you do.” 

Fry drops his shoulders, “Yeah, I know.” 

Silence stretches between them, a canyon Bender can’t reach across anymore. 

“Welp, I’m headed back home. I’ll pack your shit up. Tell Leela I’ll be off work for a while,” Bender lights the cigar by flicking his digits and turns to walk out the door. He’s leaving, so Leela can’t get that mad, and frankly, screw how she feels. 

I’ll miss you.

{Unable to Delete Thought.} 

“Bender, wait!” Fry calls out. Bender’s hand halts on the doorknob, cigar smoke rising languidly around him. He doesn’t turn around. “Do you even care? That we aren’t gonna be living together anymore?”

Bender forces a laugh. “Of course not, are you kidding me? I get my place to myself again. I can bring home any bitch I want, whenever I want. It’s only up from here! You’ve been holding me back from living my best life, meatbag. Farewell, loser!” 

I’m sorry. 

…

Hours pass. Packing up Fry’s belongings isn’t difficult; he’s always been unintentionally frugal. Maybe forced to be with the crummy pay they get. All the important things fit in a box that Bender sets next to the front door. The rest, such as the human’s bed, are left untouched. Amy’s wealth is beyond Bender’s perception, he’s certain she’ll have the new place furnished. 

The apartment is still in a state of complete disarray, so he spends the rest of the night clearing things out. Dragging out the broken furniture to the dumpster, cleaning the floors, and disposing of the trash he has accumulated while cleaning. When all’s said and done, the apartment reverts to its original state—barren, save for the stained couch and the bed in the spare bedroom. 

Memories still haunt the walls, though. Recollections that Bender debates on deleting altogether, but he can't bring himself to. 

Once late enough, he initiates his system restoration protocol. Instead of rebooting in his usual spot, he rests on the couch. By the time he wakes up, Fry’s box is gone, and the spare keys are in the kitchen. 

…

Months pass. It was admittedly difficult at first, but time heals all wounds, even self-inflicted ones residing in binary. Distractions were paramount in helping the bending unit remain operational; criminal adventures and acts of lechery were enough to keep his CPU from overexerting. Day in, day out, he partied and pilfered to his metaphorical heart’s content. 

Nighttime was when Bender struggled the most. 

Tonight is no different. He’s low on fuel while sitting on the stained couch, a recurring theme as of late. Replaying memories, ones centered around himself and his former best friend. Better times when they would laugh and roughhouse. Fry’s elated expression, his wrinkled nose, and smile lines around his eyes. Malleable features only humans have, unique in every way. A testament to their mortality—those lines will be permanent, a stamp of the mirth they carried in their life. Wandering hands find themselves inside his chest, toying with the fuel line, idle tugs at his lifeline. Not enough to pull it loose, but enough to remind him it’s possible. Potential corruption, a tantalizing prospect.

Is this normal? He’s never cared so much about anyone in his life. Robot or human, they all have passed through him like apparitions; he’s remained unchanged by them. Who he is, what he’s composed of, the bits and pieces that create him, he’s always put above anything else; Bender’s too amazing to be influenced by anyone. And yet this idiotic meatbag is solid, the first touch Bender has felt. Warm, unlike the metallic husk Bender resides in, with hands that can grab onto him, reach inside his chest to pull apart his hardware. Hell, they can alter the very programming he has—change the very thing he was made to be. 

It’s nights like these that make Bender mourn. An ache that blooms throughout him, reaching every wire, and the lack of fuel makes it so he refuses to delete a single thought. 

When he’s this low on alcohol, the capacity to understand what’s best for him flies out the window. He finds himself in front of Fry’s old room. The door has been shut all these weeks, he’s refused to enter out of fear. Or respect. Or something else altogether, he doesn’t know. Hands shake (from the intoxication, surely) as they reach toward the doorknob. It opens with a low creak, darkness etched throughout the bedroom, light from the living room cutting into the peace. 

It’s just as Bender left it, a bare mattress atop a bed frame. Dingy and empty. It feels wrong to be in here, like he’s intruding on something sacred. Should he kneel and pray to a cruel god? And if they listen, will they reconstruct him? Make him a better fit for Fry? Take away his cruelty and hedonism? 

Bender’s pious streak ended long ago. No god will listen to him. 

Swaying toward the bed, Bender sits at the edge of it, appreciating the new perspective he gains. He’s able to see into the closet, anticipating it to be empty. Instead, his optics adjust, and he notices fabric on the ground. A pair of socks. 

Standing isn’t easy; his system’s balance protocol is shot. Yet every step feels more certain than the last, until he’s bending over to pick up the socks. Bender imagines them to be soft in his hands as he rubs them between his digits. 

I should give these to Fry. They’re important, aren’t they? 

A plan devises itself, manifesting as if he weren’t the one stringing it together. An intricate web, a way to recapture Fry’s attention once more. To at least be friends again. 

Bender falls asleep on Fry’s bed. 

…

“Hey, Bender!” Amy’s voice resonates inside of Bender, tinny from the reception, making him wince. He’s still refueling after last night, a bit slower than he should. “I haven’t seen you for a while! And now you’re calling, it’s kind of crazy. You never call! What gives?” 

“I, uh, need to give something to Fry. He left something really important. So I need his address.” 

“Spleesh, Bender, you really know how to put a girl in a difficult spot! Fry doesn’t want you to know where he lives. Something about not trusting you to not barge into his house?” 

“What?!” Bender snaps. “What the hell does that mean? I would never do that!” 

“I dunno. He only just told me that recently. I mean, can you blame him? He’s da—” Amy cuts herself off. “He’s, um, dancing a lot lately! Yeah! You know, we humans love moving around! But he’s shy about it,” she laughs wearily. 

“Dancing?” Bender repeats, suspicion in his voice. What the hell is that about? As if Bender would give two shits that the meatbag can bust some moves now. “If you don’t tell me where he lives, I’m telling your parents you got a fugly tramp stamp.” 

“Aieyah! Jung lei! ngo da sei lei!” Amy barks out, then sighs heavily. “Fine, I’ll shoot you his address. Just don’t tell him it was from me.” 

“You got it!” Bender promptly hangs up. He snags the socks off the bed, refuels to an adequate level, then heads out to get to Fry’s new place once Amy sends the address. 

It doesn’t take long for Bender to be at Fry’s front door. The apartment complex is beyond bougie, Bender almost loses track of why he’s there in favor of stealing a few things from the lobby. He does, however, sneak someone’s keycard off them as they pass him by, which lets him up the elevator.  

Building up the courage to actually knock takes a while, and after ten minutes of pacing up and down the hallway, reciting different ways to squirm himself back into Fry’s life, Bender positions himself at the door and raises his hand. 

“You…know how to…” 

Bender freezes, fist inches from the door. That was a robot’s voice, coming from Fry’s apartment. Was it his TV? 

“Thanks,” Fry responds. “I…to…” 

Bender lowers his hand, diverting more energy to his auditory hardware, boosting its sensitivity. 

“I should be thanking you, Fry. It’s great to finally be at your apartment.” 

“Hah, yeah,” Fry sounds shy. “I mean, I guess it was time? Since we’ve been talking for a while now.” 

“I’m lucky to have gotten to know you,” the robot’s voice is smooth and insanely familiar. Bender runs a scan to try and pinpoint who it is. “I mean, after what happened at Lust, I was sure you’d end up with Bender.” 

Bender drops the socks on the floor. 

Emotions explode and ricochet throughout him, causing him to shake. 

“I’m sorry, Fry. I shouldn’t have mentioned him.” 

“It’s okay, Copper. I’m just glad I’m with you now.” 

Bender breathes out, steam erupting from him. A system warning pops up, but he’s already starting to come down. Rage and sorrow snake throughout his insides, bated by a single thought. He already knows exactly what he’s going to do.

Killing Copper is going to be the most gratifying experience he’ll ever have. 

…

It takes all day for Copper to leave the building. The sun hangs low, painting the streets in an orange hue. Bender waited patiently, hidden behind the dumpsters across the street, for the other robot’s exit. A steel pipe he found lying around fits snugly between his digits, and throughout the hours, the most movement he’s done has been squeezing the bar periodically. Meticulous simulations of what he’s about to do nearly fry his CPU. 

Not that he needed to think that hard. Just as breathing is second nature to humans, so is murder to Bender. 

Once Copper strolls down the sidewalk, Bender follows behind, far enough to remain undetected. After a while, the streets clear out and he hastens his pace, getting close enough that the other bot’s head turns toward him. Too little too late, Bender swings as hard as he can at Copper’s head. 

A loud crash resonates throughout the streets, alongside a confused yell from his victim. Copper’s head disconnects from his body and it bounces several times, sliding into an alley. “Home run!” Bender cheers, quickly grabbing onto Copper’s disoriented body by the arm. He drags it into the alley, shoving it hard enough for it to lose its footing and collapse. 

Copper’s head lies a few feet away, sparks and confused grunts emitting from it. Whistling an old tune, Bender strolls up to it, stepping on it forcefully and leaning down. At this angle, he can see Copper wincing. “Told you I’d kill you, didn’t I?” 

“I-I’m not surprised,” Copper’s voice box glitches, sounding decidedly less smooth. A delicious edge of desperation lapping at the bot’s faux confidence. “Your reputation precedes y-you.” 

“Of course it does,” Bender boasts, putting more weight down on Copper’s head, which creaks. 

“Ki-lling me won’t fix anything,” Copper insists. “You put yourself in this position. Fr-y told me all about it. He thinks you’re robophobic, a-and hate him as a result. How w-will you fix that? And when he finds o-out I’ve been killed, what the-n?"

“That’s for me to figure out, and for you to never know,” Bender retorts, pausing when he hears Copper’s body moving. His eyes narrow and he relieves the pressure on the head, turning to face the body. It rushes him, arms out in a desperate attempt to reunite with itself. Bender kicks Copper’s head away and swings the pipe indiscriminately.  

It connects, and one of Copper’s arms goes flying, the body staggers backward. Bender places a heavy kick at its abdomen, and it falls once again. This time, he follows through. The unit beneath him is lithe to a fault, not built to take damage. No access to its wiring via a hatch, either, so Bender smashes down once. Twice. Three times until there’s a hole in Copper’s chest. He drops the pipe and uses both hands to bend the rest of the metal, creating a large enough opening for him to reach into. 

Though unfamiliar with Copper’s specs, Bender knows how to render any robot immobile. He latches onto the body’s wiring just as he hears Copper start to plead. 

“Don’t! I’ll le-ave! I swear, I’ll nev-er c-come back!” 

Bender grins, squeezing the jumble of wiring, feeling the thrum of electricity thundering up his arm. “I don’t think you understand the situation you’re in. You can keep begging for mercy, though.” 

Ripping out the wiring isn’t as smooth as he’d’ve hoped—it snags on his makeshift hole, shredding instantly. Bouts of electricity race up Bender’s arm and give him a pleasant rush. Copper’s body lies completely still, disconnected from his head. Offline.

“A-all of th-is for a h-h-human?!” Copper’s voice loses all its earlier composure, fear etched into every syllable. 

Bender shakes his hand free of the robot’s innards and drops the pipe. “He’s not just a human. He’s the only one I give a damn about. And you’ll never fucking get that.” His head turns, followed by his body, glaring down at the pathetic hunk of junk on the ground. He walks over and picks up Copper’s head. 

“W-w-what gives you the right to kill me?!” Copper hisses, eyes darting around, likely looking for a way out. 

“‘Cause I can. Oh, and before you die and aren’t able to perceive anything…” Bender grins, reaching into Copper’s head, searching for his motherboard. “Just remember, you did this to yourself. You chose to go after Fry. This is your fault.” 

“Stop! Please! I-I’ll leav—” 

Bender crushes the motherboard, cutting off Copper’s final plea. The robot’s eyes glitch out, sparks and smoke billowing as he stops being able to compute. After a minute, Bender pulls out the crumpled motherboard and opens his mouth plate. He ingests it, turning on his blender to crush the board to a fine powder. Then he turns the head around and forces open the hatch with Copper’s personality chip. He grinds that up as well, ensuring the robot’s complete demise. 

Enjoying his kill, though tempting, isn’t in the cards right now. He has to get rid of the body first. Bender makes quick work of Copper’s limbs, stuffing them into his chest alongside his head. For the body, he lugs it to the dumpster in this alley. Prior to dropping it in, Bender ensures to scratch off the robot’s serial number wherever present. That’ll delay the police indefinitely—they’re (thankfully) incompetent, and robot murders are at the bottom of the list for solving anyway. 

Carrying a dead robot’s parts inside him should have Bender feeling a certain way, but it’s not the first time he’s done it. It won’t be the last, either. 

He litters the rest of the parts around different dumpsters throughout the city, taking his sweet time. When he returns to his apartment, Bender’s as happy as can be.  All obstacles have been removed. He’ll lie low for a while, then rekindle his friendship with Fry. They’ll be able to go back to normal now. They can be best friends, without distractions, and Bender can continue to delete any ridiculous thoughts of love. 

Chapter Text

A week passes. It’s early in the morning, the birds are chirping, and Bender is whistling as he enters the Planet Express Building. He’s perfectly on time for the morning meeting—a grand entrance for a grand robot. Bender saunters through the sliding door, optics scanning the crew. Their shocked faces revitalize him. His optics land on Fry for a beat longer than the rest. Fry looks equal parts shocked, scared, and happy. Bender pushes the bubbling emotions aside and clears his voice box. 

“The best bot around has returned to grace you meatbags with his incredible presence,” he extends his arms, “I welcome gifts in the form of cash, checks, and direct deposit. And gold bars.” 

“Sweet giant anteater of Santa Anita! I was just about to fire you!” Hermes is the first to pipe up, breaking everyone’s awe. 

“I’m inclined to agree. You should be fired, Bender!” Leela crosses her arm, glaring. “You’ve missed so many deliveries. Do you know how difficult it is to get Zoidberg to pick anything up without breaking his outer shell?”

“Yes, it’s been so difficult, it has!” Zoidberg laments. “I just got this crack on my claw and Hermes says worker’s comp won’t cover it!” 

“It won’t, you crustaceous abomination!” Hermes huffs, directing his attention to Bender once more. “I should fire you!” 

Amy waves at Bender, “Sit down, we’re just about to start!” 

“Amy! We can’t accept him back that easily. Isn’t that right, Professor?” Leela asks. 

Professor Farnsworth wakes up with a start, having been snoozing in his chair. “Huh? Oh,” he adjusts his glasses and leans his head forward to take a better look at Bender. “Oh, who are you?” 

“It’s me! Bender!” Bender pats his chest. 

“Oh, yes, Bender!” The Professor nods, motioning toward the empty seat next to Fry. “Yes, yes, sit down, we’re about to discuss the next delivery.” 

“Professor!” Leela chides, but Bender’s already making his way to his seat. 

The rest of the meeting is dull, their delivery isn’t for another few days, and Bender’s mind is preoccupied. His eyes shift toward Fry a few times, who doesn’t glance back once. In fact, he keeps looking at his phone for some reason. What is so important that Bender’s return isn’t met with joyful tears? 

“It’s time for my nap!” The Professor barks out grouchily, signaling the end of their meeting. He passes out in his recliner. It elevates and transports him to another room so he can rest peacefully. 

The table disperses, all things operating as normal. Aside from Fry, who doesn’t immediately go to Bender’s side like he used to. Bender walks to the kitchen, whereas Fry and Leela veer off to the other side of the room. Bender boosts his auditory receptors so that he can eavesdrop from afar. 

“It’s been a week and he still hasn’t reached out,” Fry says in a hushed tone. “I’m worried. We were talking everyday for months.” 

Leela sighs, “Maybe something came up, Fry. Or maybe he just feels differently now. It’s shitty of him to be ghosting you regardless, but you’re worth more than how you’ve been treated.”

Bender risks a glance and sees Fry wiping his eyes. He quickly returns to snooping in the fridge, as if there’s anything in there that would capture his interest more than the conversation at hand. 

“I guess. But now Bender shows back up and I’m super confused, I just… I don’t know.” 

“Bender can fuck off,” Leela says, and he quietly fumes. “Just do your own thing and ignore him for now. If anything, we can clear out the spare room in the Planet Express ship today, so when we’re on the mission, you can sleep separately. How’s that sound?” 

“Okay…Thanks, Leela.”  

The two walk off, and Bender shuts the fridge forcefully. How come Fry isn’t running straight to Bender? And why is he still thinking about that shitbot Copper? It’s been a week, Fry should take the hint and move on. Sure, Copper’s actually dead, but Fry doesn’t know that—a week with no contact usually means ‘not interested’! 

The rest of the day is extremely lackluster, with Bender slacking off on the couch. It’s still got his signature imprint, so there’s that. He’s watching All My Circuits when Fry walks through the sliding doors, wiping sweat off his brow. Bender hops up, “Hey, meatbag!” 

Fry stiffens and scratches the back of his neck, “Uh, hey Bender.” 

The awkwardness doesn’t go missed by him, and frankly, he takes offense to it. “What’s up with you?” 

“Oh, uh, well, you know,” Fry says vaguely. “I gotta finish moving shit out of the spare room on the ship, so I’ll talk to you later.” 

“Need some help with that?” 

“Oh, we’re almost done. Thanks anyway,” Fry tries to sidestep Bender, who takes another step to cut him off. 

“I’ve been gone for what, four months, and you don’t even say hi?” Bender can’t help the frustration in his tone. 

“Well, you did say you’d be better off without me,” Fry’s tone is taking an equally frustrated edge. “Then you disappeared for months and didn’t try contacting me once. So, yeah, I thought you’d be better off if I didn’t say hi.” 

Bender’s CPU halts. He didn’t think this far ahead. Fry never holds grudges, and for him to be this upset after so long means Bender really did a number on him emotionally. He was only doing what he thought best at the time; they were both out of control and could have gotten into something they would have regretted. Bender knows he can handle their friendship again. They’ll be totally fine this time around.

He huffs, crossing his arms. “It was for the best, Fry. You were being all emotional, and we needed space. Now we can be friends again! Four months is plenty of time to get over a crush.” 

Fry opens his mouth, shuts it, then heaves a sigh. “Look, Bender, you’re one of my closest friends, and we had a lot of fun, but I think it’s better if we keep a distance from each other from here on out.” 

“Distance?” Bender repeats, blinking stupidly. This isn’t going well at all. “I—well, I…” He stumbles over his words, unable to think of an adequate excuse to get Fry to be friends again. 

Fry smiles without an ounce of mirth. He steps closer and pats Bender’s shoulder. “I care about you, but I gotta care about myself too. We can still talk at work, and we’ll still work together, but we won’t hang out anymore. Plus, I’ve just…got a lot going on right now, and it wouldn’t be right to put that on you, either. I’m sorry, Bender.” 

{Thought Deleted.}

With that, Fry sidesteps Bender and walks out of the room. 

He up and leaves shortly after. The whole point of showing back up to work was to get Fry to be buddy-buddy with him again, and since that’s not happening, there’s no use in staying there. 

That night goes about as well as any night has these past few months. Getting low on alcohol, staring at the wall, and reminiscing. It’s probably not the healthiest pastime, but it’s only in these moments that Bender can accept the nature of his feelings. He doesn’t want to just be friends with Fry. He wants to be with Fry. 

Bender lets himself get about halfway depleted, replaying their earlier discussion in his head. Allowing himself to feel something for once, instead of shoving it down or deleting it. The emotions that explode out are more than he bargained for—Bender ends up crying on the couch. Sobbing, more like. Artificial tears drop out in large quantities, and no amount of wiping can get his vision clear. After all he’s done, Fry won’t look at him now. Maybe ever. They’re finished, their friendship, potential relationship, all of it is gone. 

It’s his fault, at the end of the day. He’s the one who was incapable of bridging the gap when it was only a step away. Now it’s a canyon, and the pit below is filled with jagged spikes. Bender wants nothing more than to leap to his demise. 

So Bender does the only thing that makes sense, in that moment: he grabs onto the fuel line and unplugs it. Liquid gushes out, leaking out of him and staining the couch anew. He’s aiming to get fucked up, not killed, so he reattaches the fuel line once the system alerts start glitching and his vision fades somewhat. 

He laughs at himself. What a weak-willed bot, getting himself so torn up for a human. Draining himself for one. Killing for one. It’s all insane and pathetic, and he hates himself for it. He does it all aside from admitting his true feelings to himself or Fry. 

A thought forms through the haze of intoxication. He may not be able to admit to Fry when he’s clear-headed, but perhaps he can finally admit it when he’s completely sloshed. 

{Calling Fry.} 

The line picks up instantly. “Hello?” Fry’s voice is low, groggy, as if he’d just woken up. 

“Fry, I jus’ gotta admit somethin’,” Bender slurs his words together, verbal cursive, blinking blearily at the ceiling. He somehow fell to the ground and didn’t even realize. “I’m…a dick.” 

“Yeah,” Fry laughs lightly, then yawns. Bender hears shuffling on the other line. “Is…that all you want to say?” 

Bender hums and closes his optics, feeling as if he’s spinning. System warnings dance in his vision, glitched out from the lack of fuel to keep them on. He’s forgotten why he called altogether. “Yer voice is real nice, Fry.” 

“Uh. Okay,” Fry’s voice is uncertain, confused. “Are you okay? You sound…pretty messed up. Have you drank anything today?” 

“Yeahhh, I drank,” Bender says, and it’s the truth. He just dumped most of what he drank. “But uh. I jus’ remembered…What I wanted to tell you…” 

There’s bated silence on the other side. Bender can barely string thoughts together, but he pushes forward. 

“I love you, Fry,” tears start flowing once more, pooling between his bulbs, clouding his vision entirely. The ceiling looks like a garbled mess. “Whenever…I say, ‘Kill all humans’...I always add, ‘but not Fry’...in m’ head.”

Fry takes a sharp breath in and remains silent. Bender tries to sit up so as to at least have the tears out of his face. He’s too sloshed to get it right, though, and slams back down on the floor. 

“Bender, I…” Fry’s voice is weary, hesitant. “How low on fuel are you right now?” 

Bender frowns. “Whassit matter?” 

“It matters a lot,” Fry asserts. 

“I’m uhh… It says fifteen percent,” Bender reveals, then twitches as a current of electricity zaps throughout him. “Oh, wait. It’s fourteen…thirteen…why’s it goin’ down…?” 

“Bender, are you Draining right now?” Fry’s tone grows urgent, and Bender hears more shuffling. 

“M’not. I mean, not anymore,” Bender languidly replies, fumbling with his chest plate to open it. He shoves his hand inside, grabbing hold of the fuel line. He realizes then that he put it in too loosely, and it’s been leaking. He tries to attach it securely, but his digits are covered in fluid, and he’s lost most of his strength. Fry’s still yapping in his head, and Bender’s having a hard time understanding what he’s saying. 

{WarNiNG SYSTEM CRITICAL. CORRUPTION. ImmEdiate SHUTDOWN.}

Bender’s visor shuts, and he powers down completely. 

…

{Rebooting. Time Spent Shutdown: 3 hours. Diagnostic Scan Indicates Severe Corruption. Fuel is critically low. Manual Reboot Initiated.}

Lights pool into Bender’s vision as his optics slide open. The first thing he sees is Fry’s worried face, albeit it’s distorted, glitched out. Electricity zaps throughout his body, and Bender hears Fry curse. 

“Fr-y?” Bender’s voice box is on the fritz. Several system warnings pop up, and he’s having difficulty deciphering them. 

“Drink,” Fry orders. Something taps against Bender’s mouth plate. He opens it, and alcohol rushes into his system. They repeat that process a few times, with Bender gaining more cognitive function with each drop, until he’s finally grabbing onto the bottles himself and slamming them.

Bender finishes his last beer and sets it down on the ground, finally sitting up all the way. The system warnings have almost disappeared, with one still running an additional diagnostic scan to determine which parts have been corrupted. 

“That was so fucking stupid of you,” Fry starts, brows furrowing and a frown cutting into his soft features. “You could have died, Bender!” 

“Well, I’m not dead, am I?” Bender huffs, standing up slowly, system taking a while to calibrate his coordination. “How’d you even get in here?” He questions, glancing at the front door, which is still intact.

“Well, you haven’t taken my name off the lease, so…I just told them I lost my keys,” Fry explains, before getting riled up once again. “I’m not letting this one slide. You went too far this time!” 

Bender tries to recall what happened, but his CPU draws a blank. Not even pieces of his Draining come to him; it’s just darkness. “Well, I don’t see why you’d care if I kicked the bucket, Fry. I’m not your friend anymore, right?” 

The human’s eyes widen, before narrowing into a fierce glare. “That isn’t fair. None of this is fair! First you call, and say all that shit, and then I’m saving your life, now you’re being a dick—what do you want from me?!” 

Bender stills, processing what Fry claims. “What did I tell you?” He asks carefully, keeping his tone neutral. 

Fry wipes his eyes angrily, “Don’t you remember?! Or was it just because you were fucked up, and it didn’t mean anything?!” 

Bender tries to piece it together. Thinking that advanced, though, sends electrical shocks throughout his system and causes him to falter in his footing. Fry’s expression melts into one of concern. 

“You…you really don’t remember?” 

“No,” Bender admits, a hand to his head as he tries to sort himself out. 

{System Corruption Identified. Estimated Time to Resolve: 72 hours.} 

Fry shifts on his feet, looking away. Something happened, but if Bender thinks about it anymore, his motherboard will overheat and fry itself. He has to rely on the meatbag to explain what happened. 

“Just tell me,” Bender requests in a tone that’s so unlike his usual self. Gentle. 

Fry shifts around, huffing a few times before his eyes land on Bender’s. “You said you love me.” 

Bender’s CPU ceases to function, and all power routes to keep him standing. His legs quiver, and his digits twitch. A blank expression overtakes him, flat as can be. After a few beats, he’s able to process it, to a degree. Did Fry just say the very thing Bender’s tried his hardest to eliminate? And Bender was the one who admitted it? Willingly? No, that can’t be right. Bender has worked so hard to keep it under wraps, losing countless hours to deleting his thoughts. Unfortunately, he couldn’t delete the memory of when he realized he loved Fry. But after he fixed that corruption, Bender did his best to squash every subsequent thought.

Bender isn’t a robosexual. He isn’t in love with Fry. He can’t be—they’re best friends, and Bender would have to give up who he is just to be with Fry. It won’t work out. It can’t work out.

I want it to work out, though. More than anything, I want Fry to be mine. No one can get in the way of what we’re meant to be. 

{Temperature Rising Above Normal Levels.}

“I…I wish you had said something sooner,” Fry says gently, cutting into Bender’s rumination. “Remember that Copper guy we met at the bar? Well, I…started dating him. And now he’s ghosting me, which sucks, but it makes all of this extra difficult. I have to figure that out before any of…whatever this is,” Fry gestures between the two of them. 

Bender’s frozen, tension holding his body together as if he were rusted. Every action he’s taken thus far has backfired. As satisfying as killing Copper was, Bender’s now dealing with the ramifications of it: Fry’s distance. He’s gear-tied and cracking at the seams. 

Even though he’s already killed the other bot, Bender’s itching to do it again. How dare that tin-can get so attached to Fry? He should have taken his time with Copper. 

“I told you not to talk to that guy,” Bender crosses his arms, looking away, desperately clawing at a way to turn this interaction back to something normal. A pitiful, resentful argument. Not a life-altering one.

“Now isn’t the time for that,” Fry bites back. “We’re talking about you, and how you fucked up. You shouldn’t have been Drained yourself.”

“Crucify a guy for having hobbies,” Bender rolls his optics, tapping his foot. 

“This isn’t a fucking hobby, Bender! You’re actively killing yourself!” 

“You don’t even care!” Bender snaps, facing Fry once again with fury oozing from his optics. “You don’t! You care more about that hunk of junk, Copper!” 

“Why would I be here if that was true?!” Fry’s fists shake at his sides, and he lets out a ragged exhale. “But, I can’t just…jump to you, and start talking to you as if nothing’s happened!” 

Logic flies out the window, and Bender’s having a hard time keeping his mouth shut. Thoughts that should be deleted pour out of him, “Why the hell not, Fry?! Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted? To be with me? Why’s it matter if a random fucking bot leaves you?! It seems like you clearly care more about him than anyone else!” 

“You don’t get it!” Fry’s voice rises, hands going up to his head in exasperation, twisting into his hair. “You don’t fucking get it! You’ve never, not once in your entire life, known what it’s been like to be in a relationship! You jump from one bot to the next, you’re unstable, you’re mean, and you’re fucking crazy! You do a bunch of shit no one should do! Copper’s fucking sweet! He’s nice to me, and he doesn’t fucking push me away!” 

“I did what I thought was right!” 

“And that’s exactly the problem!” Tears start to fall, staining Fry’s rosy cheeks. He wipes at his face roughly. “I thought I finally figured us out, and then you drop a huge bombshell—how am I supposed to know how to react to that?! I don’t! I don’t even know if what you said was real!” 

“It is real, Fry!” Bender knows damn well he should end the exchange. But something’s dragging him into this argument full-force. “It’s been real! I’ve felt this way about you for a long time!” 

“And yet you treated me like shit?!” 

“Because I’m scared!” Electricity zaps his insides, causing him to twitch. A steady stream of steam rises out of his mouth. “I’m scared of all of this! Getting with you changes everything! It’ll change me! I’m Bender for Christ’s sake, Fry! I don’t fucking change for anyone, especially not some goddamn meatbag!” 

“I—” Fry’s voice cracks. “I can’t do this,” he turns on his heel and tries to storm out of the living room. 

Bender follows behind, grabbing Fry’s arm harder than he means to. Fry cries out, but Bender doesn’t let go. “You aren’t leaving. Not ‘til we figure this out.” 

“Let go!” Fry tries to push Bender away. It’s like a fly trying to move a bull. “I’m sick of this shit! I don’t want to be this confused anymore!” 

Bender’s optics glance from his grip on the human to Fry’s pained face rapidly. He feels on edge in a way he hasn’t felt before. Facing what he’s been running from, diving into it headfirst—he’s falling into the canyon, hurdling toward the spikes at lightspeed. He’s never been afraid of dying, and yet, it’s almost like he has something to lose. A connection that ties to the center of his being, catching him just before he lands. 

Erratic and desperate, Bender pulls Fry close and presses their mouths together. Sparks fly between them, and Fry’s muffled protests fall on deaf ears. Eternity passes as Bender’s mind blanks. There’s but one thought floating in the cavern of his perception:

I love you, Fry. 

Pulling away, Bender opens his optics. Fry’s face is distraught and flushed, with fresh tears marring his skin and reflecting light. 

“This isn’t fair,” Fry says weakly, growing slack in Bender's grip. “You're all I've wanted.”

“Have me, then,” Bender replies. It's the easiest sentence he's uttered. 

“Let me go,” Fry mumbles, defeated. Bender complies, only because he knows the meatbag won’t make a break for it again. They stand in silence as Fry gnaws on his bottom lip, blinking away his tears. “I need time.” 

“Time for what?” Bender’s not even trying to be an ass at this point; he’s genuinely confused. 

“Time to process. And to see what happens between me and Copper. Because, well, he was my boyfriend. So I want to make sure that I don’t cheat on him.” 

Bender fights the urge to roll his eyes. If only Fry knew. He’s not going to say anything about it now, it’ll break the tentative hold he has on the human. Yet, the words start spilling out before he can hold them back, “I ki—” 

Cutting himself off hurts. Bolts of electricity wind down his arms and legs and he jerks his limbs haphazardly, optics and vision glitching out. He shuts his optics and releases the steam building up inside from his mouth, residual twitches wracking his frame. 

“Are you okay?!” 

“I’m fine,” Bender reassures, opening his optics. “You’ve got three days to sort your shit out, Fry. I’ve gotta fix the corruption Draining caused.” 

“Three—you’re putting a time limit on this? That isn’t fair!” 

“Life isn’t fair,” Bender retorts, pulling a cigar out of his chest. Only to realize it’s soaked and effectively ruined. He tosses it back inside himself, shutting the hatch to his chest roughly. “I’ll boot down for three days. When I get back up, we’re finishing this conversation.” 

Bender walks back to the couch and sits down, crossing his arms. 

“B-but, I just—I can’t—”

“Three days,” Bender warns. His visor slides down, and he initiates his system restoration protocol. The last thing he hears is Fry letting out a frustrated groan.

Chapter Text

Powering down for three days is like the blink of an eye for Bender. One second Fry’s next to him, and the next he’s alone in a dark apartment. It’s nighttime, nearly pitch black, and he has to flick on his night vision to navigate his abode. Thankfully, restoring himself doesn’t take a ton of fuel, so he only needs to throw back a few beers to feel right as rain. 

As Bender starts gathering his bearings, he checks his internal messages. There’s a couple of notifications from dumb broads that he forgot to block, and below that, a message from an unknown sender. 

{2 Days Ago from Unknown Sender: Blotto, contact at your earliest convenience. It’s Donbot.} 

Huh. Donbot never messages personally. If Bender’s needed, Donbot sends one of his henchmen to talk. The months he wasn’t working at Planet Express, Bender ran a few heists with the Donbot, under the strict understanding that they were partners. Equals, so that Bender didn’t have to worry about cutting ties once again. Curiosity piqued, Bender gives Donbot a call. 

“Blotto,” Donbot greets, lackadaisical. “I’m going to cut straight to the chase, here. Someone very close to me was whacked.” 

“What a shame,” Bender responds with all the pity he can muster.  

“A grand shame,” Donbot agrees, sighing. “He was a good bot. Had his particular interests, if you catch my drift.” 

“What, he liked jacking on?” 

“No, he quit years ago. He played for the human team. Was speaking to one for a while before he got murdered.” 

A bad feeling nestles itself in Bender’s circuits. They can’t be talking about the same robot, right? 

“Right,” Bender opens one of his kitchen cabinets and pulls out a cigar, sparking it up. 

“I’m not one to care about anyone’s romantic proclivities. However, I am well aware of how hostile parts of the population are toward the robosexual minority. Including my underlings, who I trust wouldn’t have done anything toward my friend. Their bigotry, however, indicates they would not take this seriously. Which is why I’m contacting you, Blotto. I hope you’ll be able to take care of this discreetly.” 

Bender blows out smoke, shifting his footing. Anxiety crawls up his wiring. “What makes you think I’m for robosexuals?” 

“It’s an assumption, but not unfounded. I’ve seen how you handle humans—you treat them with a kinder hand than you do robots.” 

“I want to kill all of them,” Bender deadpans. 

“Ha! Don’t we all?” Donbot chuckles. Bender can imagine his head shaking side to side. “In any case, I’m asking you this favor.” 

“How much?” Bender asks, since he’s never done anything for free.

Donbot laughs, “You’re funny, kid. You deliver me the man or bot that killed my friend, and I'll give you five times what you earned from the most recent heist.” 

Bender stalls. Five times what he earned…that’s nearly half a million bucks. Dollar signs dance across his vision and he has to shake his head to regain composure. 

“I’ll bring you their head on a silver platter!” 

“I want this lowlife brought to me alive.” 

“You got it!” Bender agrees enthusiastically, strolling over to his living room. “Send me all the information you got, and you’ll have them at your doorstep in no time.” 

“Thank you, Blotto,” Donbot’s tone is sincere. “I know Copper will appreciate your effort.” 

The cigar falls out of Bender’s mouth. The line goes dead and he’s left to face the reality of the situation he’s in. Not only did Copper have ties with the robot mafia, but he was important enough to Donbot that he’s hunting down the person that killed him. Bender starts to pace, panic seeping through him, as if he were doused in it. 

What are his options here? Run away, live his life in Mexico, maybe join a cartel and get protection from them? Or maybe he bounces planets entirely and lives his life as a space pirate. Stealing the Planet Express ship wouldn’t be difficult at all, and removing its tracking system would be a piece of cake. Sure, he’d be on the run for the rest of his life, but…

There’s a knock on his door. Bender yelps; for a split second, he thinks it’s the robot mafia. Shaky legs bring him to the door, and he opens it carefully. 

Fry is standing there with a stupid, small smile on his face. Right. They’re supposed to be figuring this all out. He’d nearly forgotten how erratic he had behaved a few days prior. Desperate, like a hookerbot looking to make a quick buck off someone. Still, even now he can acknowledge that this might be the path he wants to go down. Despite it being very against everything he is. 

“Now’s not a great time, meatbag,” Bender considers shutting the door altogether. It’d ruin everything, though, so he keeps it open. 

“What?” Fry tilts his head slightly, frowning. 

If Bender pushes Fry away now, things may never recover. Begrudgingly, Bender opens the door further and steps aside. Fry’s quizzical look dissipates as he makes his way inside, his hands wringing together in clear anxiety. 

Shutting the door, Bender walks with the meatbag to the barren living room. He’s too in his head to realize how close Fry is standing to him. 

“So…?” Fry’s tentative voice brings Bender out of his head. 

This timing couldn’t be any worse. He wasn’t able to take a second to figure out what he even wants from his best friend. Obviously, there’s more to it than just friends, otherwise he wouldn’t have Drained twice. He wouldn’t have killed Copper. And he wouldn’t be in this mess. 

I don’t regret it.  

He wishes he could Drain without repercussion, so this conversation could be easier. 

“Have you gotten over that shitbot?” Bender questions, the first thing he can muster bringing up. 

“Not really…” Fry scratches the back of his head. “I liked him a lot. But…I guess I realized it’s more important to figure things out with you. I broke up with him over text, so, uh…no cheating there.” 

Bender grunts, noticing he’d left his cigar on the floor. He picks it up and lights it back up, taking a long drag. The smoke he exhales goes right into Fry’s face, who waves a hand in the air to try and dispel it.

“Dating a guy who’s still in love with his ex sucks,” Bender points out, ashing his cigar over the floor. He watches it collect into a small pile. 

“We can wait until I feel better. Jumping into something new just…seems like a lot right now.” 

“I ain’t fucking waiting,” Bender nearly growls, optics landing on Fry, who looks surprised. “If I’m gonna commit, it’s gonna be now. Before I think twice and decide this is a horrible idea.” 

They stare at each other, tension thick enough for him to saw through. 

“Well, what do you want?”

“I don’t want you seeing anyone else,” he says simply, bringing the cigar back up to his mouth. 

“So…boyfriends?” 

“Does being boyfriends mean I have to stop fucking fembots?” 

“Well, obviously.” Fry crosses his arms. “If you don’t want me seeing anyone else, you can’t do that either.” 

Bender bites down lightly on the cigar, mulling it all over. They’re sexually incompatible—he can’t plug into Fry, they can’t trade electricity, Fry’s dick isn’t gonna fit anywhere in him. He’s not explored what robosexuals can even do together, so it’d be Fry teaching him, and that’s… weird. He’s a sexual powerhouse, the king of deviance, and starting from scratch is intimidating. On the other hand, he will kill again if Fry tries to get with someone else, and there’s only so many murders he can commit until the meatbag starts catching on. 

Ending things with Fry and leaving Planet Express for good is an option, one he’s taking into consideration; however, there’s a large part of him that’s reluctant. Something about Fry draws him in like a moth to a flame, and he’s ready to burn. 

He isn’t even going to consider what he’s gotten himself into with the robot mafia right now. 

“Fine,” Bender ashes the cigar again, unable to look at Fry. “We’ll be boyfriends.” 

“Really? I-I mean, are you sure? I know how important the way you live is to you.” 

“Don’t try to talk me out of it,” Bender grumbles, dropping the cigar onto the floor and stepping on it. There’s no ashtray anymore, so he has to make do. “I’m at least going to try.” 

“Wow,” Fry lets out a wary laugh, and in Bender’s periphery, he sees him inching closer. “I never thought this would happen. These past few days have sucked, but honestly, I’m really glad Copper ghosted me.” 

A warm hand touches Bender’s arm, a stark contrast to the frigid cold he feels inside. A weird sensation buzzes throughout him, sucking out all the warmth his mechanical parts produce. He’s hollowed out, a mere husk. 

“And why’s that?” 

“Because I can finally be with you. You’re all I’ve ever wanted, Bender.” 

That feeling spreads out, reaching the tips of his digits. Bender finally looks at Fry. The sheer happiness emanating from the human is almost blinding. Fry’s sincere smile, the way his eyes crinkle on the corners (crow’s feet, if he remembers correctly), his scrunched up nose. All of it serves to fester that strange emotion within. 

That feeling is guilt, he realizes. It crawls throughout him, an untamed beast demanding an outlet—to speak the truth, lest his mind fall to ruin. Letting that rule him will result in losing Fry forever, though. He’d rather the beast shred every circuit within him. Maybe then, he’ll be a good person. 

What always makes him feel better? 

Bender leans over and gently presses their mouths together. Little sparks of electricity dance between them, searching for another robot to connect to and meeting flesh instead. They remain connected for a few beats, Bender’s cool grill sucking up the warmth from Fry. Fry gets closer still, pressing their bodies together. It’s then that Bender can feel Fry’s racing heart, thudding and filling the cavern of his body with a consistent ba-thump.  

Heat pools from where they’re connected, and Bender’s hungry for more. He wraps his arms around Fry, holding him close, mindful to not squeeze too hard. 

They pull away from the kiss, with Bender still hugging Fry close. 

“Do you still have the bed?” Fry asks, a lopsided smile plaguing Bender’s CPU. 

“Obviously. I knew you’d come crawling back to me,” Bender teases, slowly releasing the human. 

“Great! Let’s cuddle on it,” Fry beams and grabs ahold of Bender’s hand. He allows himself to be dragged to the bedroom, thoughts swarming. There, the meatbag jumps onto the bed and beckons Bender to join. 

Hesitating, he stands at the edge of it. Just a bit ago, he’d fallen asleep on this bed, holding a pair of socks. There’s something to be said about him now sharing the bed with Fry instead of measly fabric, but it goes over his head. What he’s focused on is how bizarre the request is. Cuddling is an inherently human trait, alien to him. There’s no rhyme or reason to it for Bender; why cuddle, if they could just fuck and move on? 

“Robots don’t cuddle,” Bender says warily. 

“Humans do! And now you’re dating one. So come here,” Fry pats the bed in encouragement. 

After a few seconds, Bender reluctantly obliges, getting onto the bed and lying on his back. Fry makes quick work of cuddling up to Bender, wrapping an arm around his torso and resting his cheek on Bender’s side. 

Bender tries to tug his arm out from under Fry, who shifts to allow it. Once free, he places his arm on Fry, hand resting on the small of his back. Fry makes a weird noise, something Bender’s never heard from a human. As if he was purring. 

“What was that?” 

“What? Did you hear something?” 

“That noise you just made.” 

“What noise?” 

Frustrated, Bender tries to replicate the sound to the best of his ability. “That noise.” 

“Oh, that’s like…when humans feel good and comfortable, I guess. What, is it weird?” 

“Everything you fleshy creatures do is weird.” 

“Everything you robots do is weird, too. You say you don’t cuddle, but it seems like you’re enjoying yourself right now.” 

Bender tuts, opting not to respond. He glances down at Fry—all he sees is a mess of hair resting against him.

“Can you rub my back a little?” Fry requests. 

“You want me to massage you right now? You’re so needy.”

“Not a massage…just lightly drag your fingers up and down my back. It feels super good to humans.” 

“You meatbags and your desperate need for touch,” Bender complains airly, keeping his voice low since they’re pressed together. He starts to rub at Fry’s back, dragging his digits up and down. 

Fry starts to groan pleasantly, melting into his touch. Bender finds himself rubbing in a way that keeps Fry emitting those soft sounds. They’re nearly addicting—an indication that he’s doing good. 

Making his human feel good. 

It’s surprisingly nice. Even though he’s not having sex, he’s still creating pleasure. Intimacy without intercourse is something Bender’s barely explored, but he decides right then that it’s great. Especially when he gets such consistent feedback from Fry, who coos gently as Bender finds the right spots to drag his fingers across. 

They continue like that for a while, a comfortable silence falling between them. There’s not much to be said. They’ve known each other for a long time and have already established a deep connection as friends. The transition to something more, although sudden, is…kind of easy. Cuddling isn’t too different than hanging out and watching TV, when Bender thinks about it. Except, the TV is Fry’s breathing, his heartbeat slowing down, and the warmth his body produces. 

“You know, I can keep this up forever,” Bender says. 

“Keep going and you’ll put me to sleep,” Fry mumbles. 

“It’s late. You should probably sleep anyways,” Bender supplies. 

“Yeah,” Fry agrees drowsily, rubbing his cheek against Bender and letting out a happy exhale. 

The repetitive motion lulls Bender to a near meditative state. Hearing Fry’s breathing slow down stirs something within him. In all his years of getting entangled with hookerbots and fembots alike, he’s never felt much aside from the occasional, short, and intense fling. Even then, with the most carnal relations he’s experienced, Bender hasn’t felt anything. It’s all been…excitement that settles into boredom, carried away by the wind. 

Whatever this is, he can feel it.  

An hour passes like this. Fry’s sweet noises are replaced by soft snores, and Bender’s hand stills. He stares at the ceiling. 

The ceiling stares back, holding worries for the future, for what he’s doing. How he’s going to lie to Fry for the rest of the human’s life—which, frankly, isn’t that bad. White lies to maintain happiness are excusable. Donbot’s request, however, looms over him, casting a shadow over Bender’s CPU. 

Being a lone wolf and dealing with this is one thing. Having someone to care for and possibly lose is something else altogether. Forget Fry leaving if he finds out, Donbot finding out…

It won’t happen. 

It can’t happen. 

He’s going to sort this out. 

…

A voice penetrates Bender’s binary dreams, unintelligible but clearly belonging to Fry. Ones and zeros fall away, melding into the inky darkness of his subconscious. System disrupted, Bender can’t stay asleep. His visor slides up, and morning light pools into his vision. Blinking to awareness, Bender realizes he has Fry on top of him, smiling ear to ear. 

“Sorry, I couldn’t keep waiting for you to wake up.” 

“You better be sorry, I was having the best dream,” Bender smiles, optics lidded. He could get used to this, a comfortable start to the morning. 

“What was it about?” 

“The binary was just right.”

“I don’t get it.”

Rolling his eyes, Bender places his hands on Fry’s sides. “No duh, you’re a human. You’ll never comprehend the intricacies of a robot’s dreams.” 

Fry pouts, “Just teach it to me, so I can understand you more.” 

“Nope. How else am I gonna keep up my status as tall, shiny, and mysterious?” 

“You’re not tall.” 

“I’ll have you know I’m six foot!” 

“Is that including your antenna?”

Bender huffs, caught red-handed. His eyes shift to the side as he admits a begrudging, “Yes.” 

“Hah. I’m taller than you with or without the antenna!” 

“Bite my shiny, metal ass,” Bender grumbles, squeezing at Fry’s sides forcefully. 

“Ow!” 

“That’s what you get. Now, get off so I can drink.” 

Fry does the complete opposite, wrapping his arms around Bender’s torso and shoving his cheek onto his chest plate. “No!” 

“I’m giving you five seconds to get off,” Bender warns playfully. “One…”

“I want to keep cuddling!” Fry protests, rubbing his cheek against Bender’s titanium.

“Twothreefourfive!” Bender exclaims in rapid succession. He does the most cruel thing he can fathom—he tickles Fry’s sides, eliciting immediate thrashing and laughter. The human somehow clings onto him despite the assault, latching on like a parasite. 

“Sto-p!” Fry wheezes out between giggles, wiggling around to the best of his ability. 

Bender complies, but he’s not pleased at Fry’s disobedience. As Fry recovers, laughing airly, a metallic hand snakes up and cards through his hair. Three digits grab onto the base and pull up, forcing Fry to lift his head. Now they’re looking at each other, and Bender can see his boyfriend’s flushed face. The red hue deepens. 

“Get off,” Bender orders. 

A mischievous gleam flashes in Fry’s eyes, his pupils expanding. “Make me.” 

A lack of experience with humans doesn’t equate to being a complete idiot—Bender can tell where this is headed. Electricity thrums up his wires, reaching his motherboard and zapping him into action. 

Using the grip on Fry’s hair, Bender pries Fry off, who inhales sharply. He utilizes the momentum to shove Fry against the bed back-first, situating himself atop the human’s legs, mindful to maintain his weight distributed so as to not crush his boyfriend. 

Fry looks up at Bender with wide eyes and a slack jaw. It’s a beautiful expression that serves to bolster his confidence. He should be looked at in awe—in fact, he should be worshiped and revered by all. Fry’s reverence will suit him just fine right now, though. 

Bender tugs at Fry’s hair roughly, causing the human to wince and grab his arm. “Ah, careful. It hurts when you pull it that hard.” 

“I’m gonna take a wild guess and say you like to hurt,” Bender lowly states. 

The flush on Fry’s face spreads to his ears and neck. “I-I mean, maybe. Just a bit, not…not a lot.” 

“If this is going to work out between us…” Bender starts, the hand on Fry’s chest inching lower. The human’s breathing hitches, and anticipation bleeds into the air. “...you’re going to have to get used to getting hurt.” 

Bender releases his grip on Fry’s hair, just as his other hand reaches the slowly growing bulge in the human’s pants. Pressing down on it firmly makes Fry whimper, a pathetic and enticing noise. Addicting in its own right, and Bender needs to hear more. He wants Fry to fall apart in his hands, become an obedient, dumb slut for him to toy with endlessly. 

“H-how hurt?” Fry asks. 

Bender mulls it over. Sure, he’s killed humans, and that’s always been gratifying, but…he doesn’t want to get anywhere close to that with Fry. Exploring the fine line between a human’s pain and pleasure, though…it fascinates him to no end. Doing that with Fry makes it all the more tempting. 

“Enough to feel good,” Bender settles on with a grin and lidded optics, rubbing Fry’s dick through his jeans. 

“Ohhh fuck,” Fry breathes out, eyes fluttering shut. “O-okay, okay, w need— ah— a safe word.” 

“To get me to stop?” 

“Y-yeah,” Fry’s brows stitch together, and his hands move to clutch the pillow under his head. Bender doesn’t relent, stroking at his covered cock at a leisurely pace. “A-ah, ah, fuck , okay, uh— blueberry. Tha-t’s the safe word, fuck.” 

“Alright fine, I’ll stop if you say blueberry,” Bender agrees, enjoying the sight below him. A quivering mess of flesh and bones, all for him to manipulate. 

Having only seen human porn, Bender isn’t completely sure what he’s doing. Confidence is key, and he’s at the city gates—it’s best to not display any hesitation. He knows that Fry’s dick is sensitive, though. The videos he’s seen online have the guys completely naked, too, so he makes quick work of unbuttoning Fry’s pants. With both hands, he hooks his digits into the hem of Fry’s pants and underwear and pulls them down enough to free Fry’s dick. 

It’s so different seeing Fry’s dick up close. It’s leaking clear fluid from the tip, which is a reddish hue. Thicker than he remembers, Bender allows for curiosity to take over as he grabs Fry’s cock, taking a moment to inspect it. Moving it side to side, gently squeezing at the tip, until eventually doing what he’s seen online—holding tight and jerking up and down.

Heady moans fill the room, and Bender relishes in it. Enjoys the fact that he’s giving his human this much pleasure, causing him to writhe in bed. 

All of it nearly comes to a screeching halt when the unbidden thought filters through:

Did Copper do this, too? 

Anger rushes out, white hot and dangerous. He stills his movements and Fry whines, blinking his eyes open. 

“Why’d you s-stop…?” 

Bender’s grip tightens around Fry’s dick, squeezing hard enough to be uncomfortable. 

“Ow—careful, Bender…” 

Bender squeezes harder still, a frown plastered on his grill. “Say you belong to me.” 

Fry’s eyes widen, pupils so dilated they’re nearly black. “W-what?” 

Bender’s free hand reaches out and grips Fry’s face roughly by the cheeks. “Say. You. Belong. To. Me. Or I’m stopping right now.” 

“O-okay! I belong to you!” 

“Damn right,” Bender starts jerking Fry off once more, at a fast and unrelenting pace. He lets go of the human’s face, only to shove one of his digits in his mouth and pull to the side, fish-hooking the meatbag. Fry’s eyes roll back as he arches his back briefly, moaning muffled by Bender’s digit. “You’re nothing but a worthless human. You need a manbot to control you, don’t you? And you’ve been so desperate for it, you’ve whored yourself out.” 

Fry nods and whimpers, hips twitching up to meet Bender’s hand. 

“You’re mine,” Bender growls, optics honed in on his boyfriend’s face. “I’ma make you forget every other bot you’ve been with.” 

Fry babbles, incoherent due to the digit in his mouth. Bender pulls it out, and it’s slick with the human’s saliva, a thin strand connecting them. “I’m yours, all yours, please— oh God — I’m close!” 

Grinning, Bender starts to slightly twist his hand as he jerks Fry, and that has the human scrambling underneath him. It seems like he’s close to overloading, so Bender hastens his pace. 

Fry cries out, tensing his arched body—white liquid erupts from his cock, coating his chest and stomach and dribbling onto Bender’s digits. Having zero clue what it is, Bender only slows down, pumping Fry’s slowly softening cock. Each stroke causes Fry to twitch and moan like a whore. 

“Okay, okay, you can stop,” Fry pleads, hand reaching out to pry Bender off. That’s not the safe word, though, so Bender squeezes and keeps jerking. “Ah! Fuck, blueberry!”   

Huffing, Bender relents, letting go of Fry’s cock and moving to sit next to his boyfriend, who’s breathing raggedly. As the human recovers, Bender inspects his digits. They’re coated in that sticky substance. Rubbing it off on the bed, he looks at Fry. His boyfriend is limp, half lidded eyes gazing into nothing. Properly fucked. 

As pleasant as it is, Bender’s still fairly wound up, having not overloaded himself. He opts to ignore it this time. They can’t trade electricity, so the next best option is to mess with his wires, and…that’s just not a can of worms he wants to open yet. 

“Holy shit,” Fry laughs, glancing up at Bender. “That was incredible.” He uses the thin blanket they slept with to clean the white substance off. 

“Aren’t I?” Bender pats Fry’s head. “Also, what the hell is that?” 

“What is what?” 

“The white shit that came out of you.” 

“Oh, that’s my cum.” 

“That’s what cum looks like?” 

“Yup, it happens when I nut. Or uh—overload.” 

“So messy,” Bender notes, glancing at the smeared cum on his digits. 

Fry hums, his eyes drifting shut. They lapse into a comfortable silence, the human’s breathing evens out, and Bender’s left alone once again. He stands up and makes his way to the kitchen, running his hands under the water to clean himself. 

{One-Eye is Calling.}

Ugh. 

Bender debates hanging up. She’ll be livid and show up to ruin his peace, probably. 

“Where’s Fry?” Leela’s accusatory tone filters through Bender’s head. 

“I just made him cum and now he’s asleep,” Bender replies, earnest and uncaring. They’re official, no need to be secretive. Bonus points, it’s gonna bother Cyclops to be so blunt. 

“Ewwww!” Bingo. “Bender, what the fuck? I thought you two weren’t friends anymore!” 

“We’re not. We’re boyfriends,” Bender reveals, strolling out of the kitchen. “Anyways, what do you need? You never call unless you need something.” 

Leela mutters something barely audible along the lines of “ I can’t believe this.” She clears her throat, “You hurt him, and you’ll have me to deal with.” 

“Funny thing is he actually likes to get hurt.”

“Bender, gross!” 

“Just saying how it is.” 

“Ugh! Whatever, I don’t give a fuck what you two do anymore. Fry’s an adult and if he wants to get involved with you of all robots—ugh. I’m not going to bother lecturing you. Can you just tell Fry to answer me? He’s supposed to be at work, we have a delivery. In fact, you need to come here, too!” 

“‘Bout that,” Bender’s optics land on his barren living room. He needs to get new furniture. “I’m gonna be busy, so I won’t be coming in for this delivery. I’ll let Fry know, though.” 

Hanging up before she can say anything else, Bender pops his head back into Fry’s room. The human’s sound asleep so he decides not to rouse him—he’s too cute, cuddled up on the bed like that, spent from their romp. 

Lightly sighing, the bending unit shuts the door quietly. There’s work to be done, and a whole mess to figure out. If he’s going to dupe the robot mafia, he needs a damn good plan. 

A few ploys come to mind. Leaving isn’t an option, unless Bender takes Fry away too, which is feasible. However, he’d rather secure his safety and security here, in New New York, than run away. Plus, Donbot’s offering good money, and who is he to pass that up? 

If only there were a ruggedly handsome stand-in that he could have take the blame for Copper’s murder? One that’s already crossed him previously…

Oh, right. 

A sinister laugh bubbles out of him as he rubs his hands together.