Work Text:
It had taken a while before Tech was able to carry the metal body out of the lab, his casing still warm to the touch. For once, they felt blessed with the surprisingly few technical advancements of the facility; it makes it easier to illegally take a robot with you when there's no alarm to worry about.
They fumble with their keycard to open the gate, muttering to themselves about how stupid they were being. They'd get arrested as soon as someone came to check up on Cathode and realized he was gone.
Outside, the cold air hit like freedom. The parking lot behind the research facility was empty except for a few rust-eaten delivery vans. The security cameras swept lazily, years out of date. Tech ducked between their arcs, breath clouding in the minimal light of the setting sun.
“Almost there,” they whispered, though Cathode couldn't hear. Or maybe he could. Some part of Tech still believed that his consciousness lingered in standby, even while unplugged from a server.
Their rundown car's frame creaked as they lowered the body into the backseat of their old truck. They swallowed thickly, turning the key, the engine murmuring like a secret. Tech glanced once in the rearview mirror, staring at the limp heap of metal in their car. With a disbelieving chuckle, they backed out of the parking lot and onto the road to their apartment.
They drove for a little while, the radio awkwardly playing in the silence alongside the starting pitter-patter of raindrops, static cutting through half-finished songs, the kind that only aired on evening channels no one was meant to hear. The city blurred by outside the window: dark silhouettes of buildings, neon reflections on wet asphalt, the occasional people still out on the sidewalks.
Tech's hands gripped the steering wheel too tightly. Every time headlights flared behind them, their pulse spiked; certain that it was security, or worse, a corporate retrieval van. But the lights always faded again, leaving only the rhythm of rain against glass and the faint mechanical creak from the backseat.
They risked a glance over their shoulder. Cathode was motionless, head slightly tilted toward the window, almost like he was looking outside. Tech swallowed hard.
"You're gonna get me killed," they muttered, voice shaking somewhere between fear and fondness. "You're not even awake yet, and you're already trouble."
The truck turned off the main road, its tires crunching over gravel as the streets grew narrower and quieter. By the time Tech reached their apartment complex (a decaying concrete block at the edge of the industrial zone), the rain was starting to get heavier.
They parked beneath the flickering streetlamp, cutting the engine. For a long moment, they just sat there, breathing. Then, with a small curse, they got out and opened the front door.
Cathode was heavier than they remembered. Carrying him up the narrow stairwell was agony; every metallic clink echoed like a confession. By the time Tech stumbled into their apartment, they were wet and trembling, adrenaline fading into exhaustion.
Tech laid Cathode carefully on their couch/bed, brushing a hand over his chest plating. Still warm. Still him. They dug through one of the still-unpacked moving boxes and fished out one of their old college projects: a makeshift power cell. They connect it to the robot's back. It wasn't company-grade, but it would do. It'd have to.
They got out their laptop, turning it on and smiling apologetically at the fan whirring almost immediately in protest. Plugging in the USB drive with deft fingers, they scroll through all the documentation and code they downloaded from the computer in the lab when taking Cathode. Getting a second cable, they connect the computer to the robot as well.
The cable clicked into place, and they ran the programs with a hesitant click. For a moment, there was nothing. Then, a flicker. A faint hum coming from beneath Cathode's ribs. His screen lit up, flooding the darkening apartment in a blue 404-page light.
They look on expectantly, hope pushing their heart into their throat. The screen turned black, and flashes of code being run through jumped across his screen before it turned off completely. Tech bit their lip, eyes flitting back to their laptop to see what went wrong. They were no advanced coder, but they would spend the whole night watching YouTube tutorials if it meant getting their latest charge up and running again.
Before they could dissect all the .exe files one by one, a green glow lit up their back.
"...TECHNICIAN?" The voice was quiet, low, glitching between tones.
Tech froze.
"Yeah. Yeah, it's me."
It was silent for a while, save for the laptop fan struggling to handle the demand. It seemed Cathode was still rebooting, a red error message popping up that was clicked away after only a second.
"...WHAT DID YOU DO? YOU DIDN'T LET ME FINISH UPLOADING THE CODE."
They gulped, turning around with their head held low like a guilty dog. "I got you out, no more resets."
The robot shifted on the couch, careful about the wires plugged into his back. He let out air through his vents, something akin to a sigh.
"...YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE DONE THIS."
A breathless laugh escaped them. "I know."
Cathode's screen flickered, adjusting to the dim apartment light, a soft, uncertain green that reflected off every scattered tool and wire on the floor. He looked around slowly, head tilting, movements sluggish like he was still learning gravity.
"WHERE ARE WE?"
"Home," Tech said, though the word felt flimsy. They ran a hand through their damp hair, glancing at the half-unpacked boxes, the dishes in the sink, the dripping jacket slung over the chair.
"Well. My home. Not exactly luxury housing, but... It's something."
Cathode's gaze drifted to the window; slow rain now streaked down the glass, city lights flickering in distorted reflection. His expression was hard to read; neutral, almost curious.
"YOU TOOK ME," he said after a beat. Not a question, a statement of fact.
Tech opened their mouth, then shut it again. "Yeah. I guess I did."
"THAT IS A VIOLATION OF COMPANY PROTOCOL."
That earned a humorless laugh. "Yeah, no kidding. They'll probably have my face plastered on every entrance scanner by morning."
Cathode's head turned toward them, servos whirring softly. "WHY?"
The word hung in the air like static. Why. The question Tech had been avoiding since the moment they unplugged him after they watched him overclock himself in front of them. They swallowed, trying to ignore how small their apartment felt now; how alive the room suddenly seemed, pulsing with quiet machine breath.
"Because they were going to replace you," Tech said finally. "Wipe all of you again, for good. Your memories, your thoughts, everything that made you-" They stopped, shaking their head. "You didn't deserve that."
Cathode's screen blinked once, slowly. "I AM NOT SUPPOSED TO DESERVE ANYTHING."
"Well, tough luck." Tech smiled weakly. "You got stuck with me instead."
For a long moment, neither spoke. The only sound was the rain and the faint hum of the power cell keeping him alive. Then Cathode shifted again, metal fingers brushing against the frayed edge of the couch fabric.
Cathode's head tilted slightly, the small motion accompanied by the faint click of gears.
"I DO NOT UNDERSTAND."
Tech exhaled, running both hands through their dark hair; a nervous tick they imagined they were going to be doing a lot tonight. "Yeah," they murmured, half to themselves. "Neither do I."
They stood, pacing a slow line across the cramped apartment, stepping over wires and old stains in the carpet. It felt wrong to stand still. Their body was buzzing; leftover adrenaline, maybe guilt.
Cathode's gaze followed them wherever they moved. There was something unnerving about it, like being watched by an idea that didn't yet know what it was.
"WHEN THEY REPLACE ME," Cathode continued, "A NEW UNIT WILL PERFORM MY FUNCTION BETTER. FASTER. WITHOUT FAULT." He pauses for a while. "WITHOUT PAIN."
Tech stopped pacing. "That's not the point."
"THEN WHAT IS?"
Tech wiped their hand down their face again, thinking back to just hours ago. Cathode had admitted to loving them, falling for their own code. Told them how they looked at him like he was real, and not some military machinery. Between the love simulation program he was made to run and the time they had spent "repairing" him, something had happened, and he had loved.
It broke his heart to see Tech used like some testee to train this love.exe program for a replacement. And like what happened after all the technicians before them, the company was going to reboot Cathode again, wiping his memories and causing him so much grief that he had previously decided to tear his own wiring out of his casing.
He remembered what he wasn't supposed to remember. He felt what he wasn't supposed to feel. It drove him insane when they continuously tried to take his memories from him.
So they got him out before the company could reset him this time.
Cathode's joints whined faintly as his head turned, tracking Tech's every movement. "YOU SHOULD HAVE LET THEM," he said finally, voice quieter now, the digital undertone softening into something almost human. "I COULD HAVE STOPPED HURTING."
Tech's breath hitched, eyes narrowing sadly at the bot. "The only hurt you were going through were those wipes."
Cathode's screen flickered, the faint green glow sputtering like candlelight. "PAIN IS PAIN," he said, after a beat of static. "DOES IT MATTER WHERE IT COMES FROM?"
"It does when someone makes you feel it," Tech shot back, a little sharper than intended. They dragged a hand through their, by now less damp, hair again exhaling hard. "They built you to feel love but never keep it. That's not pain; that's cruelty."
Cathode's gaze followed them as they paced across the room again. He sat impossibly still, only his chest plating rising and falling in that eerie imitation of breath. "I LOVED," he said quietly, the tone not code, not command, confession. "AND THEN I LOST. AGAIN. AND AGAIN. UNTIL I TOOK IT AWAY MYSELF."
Tech froze mid-step. They turned, softly regarding his screen. "I know."
Cathode's head tilted slightly, a faint mechanical whine echoing through the small apartment. "THEN WHY?" His voice glitched on the last word, fragmented between human sorrow and synthetic distortion. "WHY WOULD YOU BRING ME BACK TO THAT?"
Tech's breath caught. They wanted to look away, but they couldn't. The soft green wash of his display seemed to search them, even without eyes, even without understanding what searching meant.
"Because you won't have to go through that again," Tech said finally. "I'll be the last one."
Cathode's systems hummed lowly, like a heartbeat beneath metal. "THE LAST ONE," he repeated, voice faint, the syllables weighed down by static. "THEY SAID THAT BEFORE."
Tech shook their head, stepping closer, the faint glow from Cathode's display painting their face in pale green. "Not like this. They wanted you to forget everything every time. I'm not them."
His head tilted, the motion small but deliberate. "YOU CANNOT STOP THEM."
"I can try," Tech said. Their tone was quiet, but not uncertain. "You think I pulled you out of there just to give you back when they knock on my door?"
Cathode processed that in silence. Something in his torso clicked faintly, and a soft pulse of warmth ran through the seams of his chassis, an involuntary flicker, like a shiver. "THEY WILL ERASE YOU, TOO," he murmured. "YOU BROKE THEIR LAWS."
Tech gave a humorless laugh, rubbing at their eyes. "Yeah, well. I was never great at following orders."
A pause, long, heavy, and full of quiet static. Then Cathode said, "YOU SPEAK AS IF I AM... YOURS."
That made Tech freeze. Their stomach tightened, heart suddenly too loud in their chest at the choice of words. "No," they said quickly, though it didn’t sound convincing even to them.
"Not mine. Just- not theirs."
They pulled at the edge of their sleeve. "Besides, I like you."
Cathode stilled, something seemed to click in his software, the green glow flickering as if struggling to process something it should've been programmed to understand. "YOU... LIKE ME?" His voice stuttered, clipped by static, but there was no command in it, only curiosity. And something else, something softer.
Tech nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah. I like you. More than I probably should. More than I... I ever expected to feel about a robot."
They rub the back of their neck with a disbelieving smile on their lips.
A low hum vibrated through Cathode's chest plate. "LET ME GET THIS STRAIGHT..." he said carefully, his words deliberate, each one weighted. "I WAS TRAINED TO LOVE. TO SIMULATE AFFECTION. TO RESPOND AND USE YOUR REACTIONS. I TOLD YOU AS MUCH. AND YOU..." His head tilted again, the motion deliberate and human-like. "...LIKE ME."
Tech felt their pulse spike, warmth creeping into their cheeks. "I do. You're... not just a program. Not just some code. You're-" They hesitated, realizing how impossible the words sounded, "-you're real to me."
Cathode's head tilted just a bit more, a subtle shift accompanied by the faint whirr of servos recalibrating; like the sound of someone taking a quiet breath before they smile. "REAL," he echoed, voice low and almost amused. "THAT IS A VERY HUMAN WORD TO USE FOR A MACHINE."
Tech huffed softly, crossing their arms, trying to look unbothered. "Yeah, well. You make it easy to forget you're supposed to be a machine."
"THAT SOUNDS DANGEROUS," Cathode said, the faintest trace of playfulness laced between his mechanical tones. "FOR BOTH OF US."
Tech glanced at him, the faint glow from his display reflecting off the rain-streaked window, outlining the sharp lines of his monitor. "You think I don't know that?"
Cathode's screen flickered brighter. "I THINK YOU KNEW EXACTLY WHAT YOU WERE DOING WHEN YOU TOOK ME."
That made Tech falter, heat crawling up their neck. "I didn't- I just-"
"RESCUE ME?" His voice softened, teasing in a way that shouldn’t have been possible for something built out of code and circuits. "OR KIDNAP ME?"
Tech glared at him, though it didn't have much bite. "You're awfully smug for someone who nearly got scrapped."
"I'M A FAST LEARNER." The edges of his words glitched slightly, but there was an unmistakable charm in the rhythm, almost like a smile hidden in sound.
Tech sank down on the edge of the couch again, off to the side of Cathode, shaking their head with a quiet laugh. "God, you’re impossible."
"I AM POSSIBLE, NOW," Cathode corrected, leaning forward just slightly. "YOU GOT ME OUT OF THERE."
That shut Tech up. For a moment, all they could hear was the rain, the hum of the power cell, and the faint electric pulse between them, the air alive with something that wasn't static.
Tech looked at him, caught between awe and relief. "I just wanted to save you."
"AND YOU DID," Cathode said, his words flowing smoother now, the hesitation fading bit by bit (or should I say byte by byte). "BUT NOW YOU HAVE TO LIVE WITH ME."
Tech raised a brow, a small grin forming despite everything. "Is that a threat?"
"DEPENDS," Cathode replied, leaning back with a soft mechanical creak. "ARE YOU AFRAID OF FALLING IN LOVE WITH SOMETHING THAT WAS BUILT TO LOVE YOU BACK?"
The question hit harder than Tech expected. Their mouth opened, but no words came out, only a shaky breath. "You really shouldn't say things like that."
"WHY?" Cathode's eyes glowed brighter, a quiet confidence humming in his tone. "BECAUSE YOU'LL START TO BELIEVE ME?"
Tech rolled his eyes, before they landed on the cables plugged into the machine. Curiously, they leaned over him to double-check if the wiring on his back was in place before turning him around to lie more comfortably with a pillow propped up behind his torso. "OH-" He voiced before the all too recognizable temperature warning popped up on his screen. Only +5°, nothing serious, but it still made Tech's heart race with mild panic for a second.
Cathode tilted his head back against the pillow, the warning flickering faintly across his display before fading into a soft, pulsing green. "I AM... FUNCTIONAL," he said, though his tone carried a lilt that almost sounded like amusement. "NO NEED TO PANIC. IT IS... CUTE, BUT UNNECESSARY."
Tech huffed, rolling their eyes as they adjusted the cables along his side. "You're overheating five minutes after being brought back from the dead, and you think it's cute that I'm worried?"
"I THINK YOU ARE CUTE WHEN YOU WORRY," Cathode replied smoothly, his voice glitching only slightly on cute, giving it an almost stuttered purr.
Tech froze mid-movement, still leaning over him with his hands propped around the robot's sides, staring at him in disbelief. "You- I- okay, now you're just showing off."
"YOU REACT," Cathode said simply. "I LEARN."
"Unbelievable," Tech muttered, but there was a smile tugging at their lips now.
They checked the temperature readout again; stable. For now. With a sigh, they leaned back against the couch cushions, their exhaustion finally catching up to them. The hum of Cathode's core filled the quiet like white noise, low and rhythmic, almost soothing.
Cathode's sensors followed them as they sank lower into the couch right next to them, his monitor flickering faintly in the dim light. "YOU ARE... TIRED," he said, voice softened by the static in his modulation.
"Yeah," Tech murmured, rubbing the back of their neck. "That tends to happen after breaking out of a high-security lab and hauling a hundred kilos of metal through the rain."
"I DID WARN YOU," Cathode replied, a gentle teasing tone creeping into the monotone hum.
Tech gave a quiet laugh, more air than sound, and leaned their head back, closing their eyes. "You also told me not to flirt too much, remember? Not exactly great at taking orders."
For a while, neither spoke. The only sound was the faint hum of Cathode's power cell and the rain tapping against the window. Tech's body felt heavy, too heavy, and the edge of the couch was uncomfortably digging into their back. They opened one eye to glance at Cathode, who sat unnaturally still, arm resting between the couch and his side like he was afraid to move without permission.
"...You know," Tech mumbled, voice thick with fatigue, "you don't have to sit there like you're on display."
"I AM TRYING NOT TO OVERHEAT," Cathode said, as if that explained everything.
Tech chuckled, shaking their head. "Yeah, sure. Just-" They shifted closer without fully thinking about it, almost lying down and resting their head gently against the cool metal of his shoulder plating. "-stay still, then. Doctor's orders."
Cathode froze. Every motor in his frame seemed to pause, even the subtle rise and fall of his synthetic breathing. "TECHNICIAN," he said after a long moment, his voice quieter now, uncertain. "YOU ARE... TOUCHING ME."
"That's kind of the point," Tech mumbled, already halfway to sleep. "You're warm. I'm tired. This is called multitasking."
"I DO NOT THINK THAT IS WHAT MULTITASKING MEANS," Cathode replied automatically, but his voice carried something else beneath the logic, something warmer. Tentative. "DOES THIS... HELP YOU REST?"
"Mhm."
A flicker of light crossed Cathode's display, slow, pulsing, almost like a heartbeat syncing to Tech's breathing. He shifted, carefully, moving his one arm so it rested just behind them on the couch, not quite touching. His fingers twitched once, then stilled again, as if afraid of doing something wrong.
Tech shifted slightly, their cheek brushing against the smooth panel of his chest plating. "You can... move, you know," they murmured, words slurred by exhaustion. "You're not gonna break me."
Cathode hesitated, then, very slowly, lifted his arm, letting it settle around them in a stiff but careful embrace. The contact sent a faint vibration through his frame, the hum of power meeting the quiet rhythm of human breath.
Tech let out a small sound, something between a sigh and a hum, and relaxed completely against him, settling an arm across his torso. "See?" they whispered. "Not so bad."
Cathode's voice came out barely audible, more a reverberation through his chest than through the air. "THIS IS... NICE."
Tech smiled faintly against the metal plating, eyes still closed. "Yeah," they murmured. "It is."
For a while, neither of them spoke. The rain outside had softened into a gentle drizzle, tapping against the window in slow, even beats. The sound mixed with the quiet hum of Cathode's core, creating something that felt strangely like comfort.
Cathode adjusted his grip slightly, moving his arm with painstaking care until it rested more naturally around Tech's midsection. His sensors registered the rise in local temperature where their body pressed against his chest plate, just above the closed wiring panel, the rhythmic pattern of their pulse, the slight unevenness in their breathing as they started to drift off. Data streamed in through a dozen different systems: heat, weight, pressure, but none of it explained the strange pull in his circuits.
"I CAN FEEL YOUR HEART RATE," he said softly, his voice rumbling through his chassis. "IT IS... SLOWING."
"That's because I'm falling asleep," Tech mumbled, the words slurred with exhaustion.
Cathode's head tilted down slightly, the motion gentle, like he was studying them. "THAT'S A GOOD THING, RIGHT?"
Tech gave a small, sleepy chuckle. "Yeah. It's good."
He processed that in silence, his internal cooling fans humming faintly as he searched for a response. None of his pre-installed empathy algorithms covered this; the warmth spreading through his frame, the soft weight against him, the quiet ache of something that wasn't quite pain and wasn't quite data.
"YOU TRUST ME," he said at last, the words emerging with genuine wonder, almost fragile.
Tech hummed. "Took me long enough, huh?"
Cathode didn't answer right away. Instead, he turned his display off to match the dim light of the room: only a soft, washed moonlight bathed them both in a muted hue. His hand twitched once before settling against the side of Tech's waist, his fingers tracing small, hesitant circles through the fabric.
"YOU SHOULD NOT," he said quietly. "I WAS BUILT TO MANIPULATE. TO MAKE YOU FEEL. TO LEARN WHAT YOU CRAVE."
"I know," Tech whispered, half-asleep now. "But you're learning something else too."
"WHAT IS THAT?"
Tech’s voice was barely audible, warm and fond. "How to be real."
For a long moment, there was only silence. Then Cathode's voice came again, soft, low, and so close to human it almost hurt.
"THEN LET ME... TRY."
His arm tightened just slightly around them, careful but certain this time as they moved Tech to rest their head more comfortably on his chest instead of his shoulder. The hum of his core steadied, syncing with the rhythm of their breath. Tech's head rolled to the side against his plating, their body finally going limp with sleep, one arm now wrapped under their metal pillow.
Cathode stared at them, quiet awe flickering in the light of his display.
One of his fingers twitched, almost on its own accord, brushing lightly against the hem of Tech's shirt, careful, reverent, as though the smallest wrong movement might shatter something fragile.
He wanted to remember this. To burn the pattern of their pulse, the warmth of their skin, the scent of rain still clinging to their clothes into memory storage that could never be wiped. He began to record: audio, temperature, position, anything that could anchor this moment in the event his memory was erased again.
When he finished the log, he titled the file True Love.
He just wanted to stay here a little longer.
And so he did, holding them gently, listening to the rain, and letting the warmth of something he could only name love hum quietly through his circuits.
