Work Text:
You sat down at your computer with a bit of trouble, your cane resting on the end of the desk beneath your monitor as your body planted itself with a pained huff. Moving was an endeavor that you didn't want to go through today... but you needed the comfort. It was challenging to even make it out of your bed — you briefly apologized to Betty for all of the complications whilst doing so — let alone be able to go down the stairs and to your office.
Your joints were screaming in pure, horrific agony. It was always something different every day, maybe even every few hours. It was hard to tell with the constant discomfort and pain, but today was much more than some mild aches. Certainly, it was a flare-up.
And a flare-up you did not want to have today.
With a fluid movement that had become second nature by this point in time, you slid the Dateviators onto the bridge of your nose, focusing your vision on your computer, Mac. Within a few seconds, they had appeared and wheeled themselves to the side of the desk you sat at.
"Oh, hey! It's good to interface with you again," Mac beamed, a soft blush on their pale cheeks. "Where've you been? I've missed you deeply, you know."
You subtly smiled at your partner, feeling guilty about your own pain. Honestly, you weren't even sure if you needed to use a cane. It almost felt like you were... faking it? No, that's not the right word. Overexaggerating.
"I've just... ah, I've just been being lazy," you waved off, the exhaustion apparent in your eyes. Mac took notice of this, and then looked to your cane.
"You aren't lazy!" they disputed, raising a hand to their chin in thought. "In fact, are you experiencing a flare today? If so, it might explain why you look so... troubled."
Ah, of course Mac was observant. They had an infinite database of information; plus, the long time they've spent with you as their user. Sometimes you wondered what it would be like if they weren't as perceptive. But every time you did, you thanked your lucky stars that they paid such close attention.
"But I am," you stubbornly resumed. "I'm feeling this stupid pain that probably isn't even real, and I'm ignoring you because of it!"
You watched as Mac's eyes softened in your direction, a wounded glint in their dark green irises. Even though they weren't human, they sure had a heart like one.
"Oh, come on. Your pain is real; that is just the 'internalized ableism' talking. And no, you aren't burdening me by not showing up all the time."
Holding back a scoff at Mac's words, you drummed your fingers on the desk as you searched in your head for the proper words to say. There's no way that what you felt could be bad, right? Right. Other people had it much worse. You could power through this pain if you simply tried hard enough. Maybe you weren't exercising as much as you used to. After all, you hadn't even faced Dunk since you met him, out of this odd shame about not being active.
"I can tell you're trying to think of a way to rebut me, you know," Mac spoke as they interrupted your near-spiraling thoughts. "It won't work. You don't have it better or worse than anyone else. You don't need to feel ashamed about that."
What did they know? Wait... everything. Not only did Mac use a wheelchair in their human form, but they also had access to everything on the internet. That included pieces on disabled people. But they didn't really live the human experience, did they?
"Uh, huh. Well, I still feel ashamed. Checkmate," you grumbled, still as mulish as ever.
Mac finally decided to come closer, placing a slender hand on your cheek. "It's acceptable to feel shame," they whispered, "but don't let it take you over. If I, your computer, can ask for help... you can too."
Leaning into their hand with a sigh, you felt the metaphorical weight on your shoulders let up to the slightest degree. Maybe you couldn't get rid of the pain, or those bad feelings, but you'd have someone who at least understands your struggles with you along the way. Not everything can get better, but Mac being there did make you feel calm... even if you initially didn't want to hear their words.
"Can you help me, uhm... learn to accept myself, then? Sounds like a stupid question, but I need it," you asked, finally asking for help with something other than a simple task. This was a much more monumental issue.
"I'd be overjoyed to help you, circuit."
"...Circuit?"
"I'm just trying something new!"