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Heavy footsteps echoed throughout the halls, substituting for the lack of presences — For it had been moments before, closing, when the bot with a loose screw came crashing down in its abundance of sound; Seemingly keen on being the epitome of annoyance. He had attempted to knock (Beat) some sense into the bot. It did not result in triumph. The tomfoolery, rather, issued agitation and a stroll.
The looming height of the Daycare entrance was a hair's breadth away from being thrust open when they conveniently did it themselves, his hand stilling from its position of reaching. Optics met a dark red fabric, flowy with a decoration of white trim; Distinct.
A hypothesis was not needed when it was glaringly obvious who the owner was, dull a characteristic he did not inherit.
"…Oh — Hi, Harvest!" Her tone held an optimistic tilt to it, something that was intentionally up-kept customarily so, regardless if her body language was posed up to be guarded; As if readying for an accident to occur, until relief pressed those shoulders down.
"No greetings are needed. Comedy-bot, the insolent….thing is yet again a bother. I request you remove him from my territory before he finds himself missing the waist-down — not just the lack of legs." A scoff. Crossing his arms with a craning neck for better viewing, his optics caught the gleam of something hanging, something green. Dainty in contrast to the otherwise natural abrasiveness of the place; A constant dance that glided the line between joy and overstimulated.
"…What is with that… plant?" Point of subject completely disregarded, he squints and points at the plant dangling antagonizingly above Earth; Suspicious of the potential ploy.
"A… mistletoe? It's a mistletoe, to celebrate the holidays. You've never heard of it?"
"No… I have never heard of this… mistletoe, you speak of," he spat the word out, teasing the unfamiliar feeling of it upon his tongue, "What is of its significance?"
Her optics glanced to and fro to the mistletoe dangling and the bot before her, hands wringing the strands of hair that cropped her facial structure. "Well…Harvest, it's traditionally — Ahem… known for bringing people to well…"
The sudden sheepishness was stark, her usual composure diminished in a manner of directness. Cowardice was not a pretty mask to bear on Earth, uncharacteristic in a way that was simply dissatisfaction to himself. His mouth, originally pressed into a flat line at the unsightliness, now grimaced in annoyance, head left taut to the side. "….Well? Elaborate further, my fortitude is lacking."
"…Ah— It's a tradition where, when people end up under the mistletoe… They usually kiss. Which of course that is not something we have to do especially if neither party wants to do it — !" Her hands waved in a blurry of rapid explanation, the change in demeanor now more apparent to him, causing a brief pause at the drivel.
"…I…see." A hum of pondering rumbled within his chassis, fingers nimbly tracing where his mouth was located upon his red and white faceplate; A kiss. The concept was not of complete foreign origin to himself, he was familiar as to what the gesture expressed. Romantics. Brief glimpses that developed such were due to previous movie nights they shared — The sheer vulnerability laced with tweeness had been nothing less than a repellent. It accumulated a desire to recoil within him.
Yet…
"This…etiquette. It is something of an obligation, correct?"
"Uh….I would say so, yes. On the behalf of if we're being technical." She spoke the information slowly, awkward in its delivery yet continuing onward, "…As I said, we don't have to, it's just for decoration; Fazbear does this…sort of thing for every holiday."
"…Is it now." Mumbling waveringly, the fingers that were once skimming the seam of his mouth now fell.
The simple, clipped response apprehended what lingered in the back of his throat — Words, indiscernible in nature and needs, burdensome. He felt the searching optics of the bot above him regardless if his faceplate turned away. "…Harvest, did you want a kiss?"
Silence.
A desire to disregard this whole interaction felt substantially irrefutable.
"Reach your own conclusion."
Imminently after that remark, an attempt at a glance resulted in meeting directly with optics that shimmered blue with a blaze of energy similarly to flames — Such optics captivating till he withdrew to trace every other features unique to her, belonging to her. The once tremendous differentiation of heights diminished as she crouched to his level.
Earth's face hovered in agonizing proximate to his own.
A shuddering intake of breath. They did not need the process of respiration. "…We should work on your communication skills more."
Hands gingerly grasp the bottom of his faceplate, thumb pressing onto the white paint below his mouth. Experimental. At the lackluster signs of discomfort, Earth makes the advancements; Fleetingly Impacting his mouth clumsily — Hardly reminiscent of a practiced, gentle exchange of lovers as teeth met teeth awkwardly in a pitiful attempt at the gesture.
His feet remained cemented in their location, tensive and apprehensive, lacking an instant of potential comprehension as his fans clicked on noisily. The fabric of his pants bunched from where his fingers curled around it, piercing.
The leisurely relinquishment afterwards was tormentous, a unique feeling that opposed previous experiences such as the pain of a punch — Mental, instead, and the skills in that certain aspect was completely unbeknownst to the bot struggling to process what occurred. The hands that cradled felt daunting.
So, he deflected away from the touch, the hold.
Her arms fell to her sides at the movement.
"That was…adequate."
"You liked it?"
"I shall be taking my leave, given I have gotten what I needed. Goodbye, Earth." He dismissed the question, a scoff proving itself a struggle as it fought the notion of exiting his vocalizer — With what words he had spoken choked in a sound unfamiliar to himself yet it bestowed itself useful to exit the interaction deftly. Hastily without a moment of miscalculation.
"Ah- Bye, Harvest!"
He had not gotten what he previously desired beforehand; The bot with loose screws expelled from his territory — Instead, a distraction.