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Garbo stood up straight, patting the nonexistent dust off of their clothing with a satisfied sigh. They had completed their chores for the day and were feeling quite content with her productivity.
She felt quite tired now though, her cold metal body feeling much heavier than it usually would, making each step he took feel stupidly sluggish as he headed for his room.
Eyes on the dull tile floor beneath them, they neglected to realize someone else was walking in the opposite direction. He bumped into someone- the intense warmth of their body making Garbo recoil instinctively, their eyes refocusing and snapping up to none other than Matador.
“Oh-! Sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going, uh…” She trailed off, locking gazes with the non-emotive soldier and feeling pinned in place by their oppressive vibes alone. “You need to watch yourself. Not paying attention to your surroundings will get you torn to shreds.” Matador commented sharply, pointing their index and middle finger at the garbot, a lit cigarette pressed between their digits.
The tied plastic bag bow atop Garbo’s head drooped further than it already was, not thrilled to be scolded by an irritated Matador. They looked away, crossing their arms defensively. “I apologized, alright? I don't really feel like getting yelled at right now, so just leave me alone for once.” She huffed, turning to remove herself from the conversation and walk away.
Despite never verbalizing it, Matador was always impressed whenever Garbo actually had a backbone and snapped back at them- it almost made up for her almost making them drop their cigarette when they bumped into each other.
“You going back to your room?” Matador called out as Garbo started walking away, making them pause and look back. He just looked unsure of himself, looking around to be sure the soldier was really asking him in particular.
“Uh, yeah. I just wrapped up my chores so I was gonna just… rest, I guess.” They replied, not quite understanding where the question was going. Matador just nodded in understanding, hooking the thumb of their free hand on one of their belt loops as they walked over to Garbo. “Alright then.” They replied, making Garbo blink in confusion. Apparently Matador had decided to invite themselves to their resting time, which was a strangely frequent occurrence- frequent enough that Garbo had invested in an ashtray so they’d stop getting cigarette butts and ashes on the carpet in their room.
Garbo opened the door to her room, wordlessly inviting Matador in before shutting it behind herself. The soldier took their boots off by the door before taking a seat on the edge of Garbo’s bed, the old mattress groaning quietly under their weight. The garbot followed suit, kicking their sneakers off before groggily moving to stand by the bed. Matador took a slow drag of their cigarette, tilting their head up to exhale the dark smoke.
Putting the remnants of their cig out in the half full ashtray beside Garbo’s bed, Matador broke the silence. “You look awful. Feelin’ tired?” They pointed at Garbo’s bag ‘ears’, calling to attention how drooped they were. The garbot sighed and nodded, taking a seat beside Matador on the bed. “Somehow, yeah. Guess I’m running low on battery or something.” She sighed, subconsciously putting a hand over her chest where his battery was. Matador nodded, then patted the bed to gesture for Garbo to lay down.
“Let’s get you plugged in then.”
Garbo only nodded before laying down, feeling too low energy to care or question the oddly kind behavior from Matador. The soldier stood up from the bed and grabbed a cable on the messy floor beside it, kicking a few empty boxes aside to move comfortably. They then turned back to Garbo, pushing his jacket off his torso and pushing his red undershirt up some to reveal a primitive outlet on their left hip, plugging her in.
It was always nice when the two of them had moments like this. The feeling of the soldier’s warm hands ghosting Garbo’s body always made their internal fans kick up. Even after all the time Matador spends kicking Garbo’s ass or scolding her, he still could trust her with help with basic maintenance. Hell, they were the only person that knew where she had to be plugged in.
With that out of the way, Matador took their hat off and set it onto the bedside table before crawling into bed beside Garbo, laying opposite to the cable that was charging her as to not unplug the bot on accident.
Garbo leaned into Matador without thinking much about it, for once feeling comforted by their calm warmth as opposed to the terrifying heat they could emit during battle.
The soldier wrapped their arms around Garbo and pulled him flush against their body, huffing quietly. “I was wondering why you were so off your game today. I shouldn't have to baby you like this, trash heap.” They scolded, but it made Garbo laugh this time. “Nobody is making you be nice to me.” The garbot was smiling with her eyes, which made the soldier huff and turn their monitor up a little more to focus on the room around them rather than Garbo’s expression. Despite doing this of their own will, Matador always felt stupidly embarrassed for being tender with the garbot of all people.
Garbo let out a content sigh, their cold metal hands being warmed by the strangely soft, warm flesh of Matador’s midsection, eyes fluttering closed as they relished in the feeling of being surrounded by that gentle heat. Their hands caressed Matador’s sides- occasionally squishing their flesh contentedly.
Garbo could've sworn they felt the soldier’s body burn hotter, a wave of heat making their circuits feel like they were on the verge of overheating. Leaning closer, Garbo took in the smell of nicotine that clung to their jacket- a scent that had become strangely soothing to the bot. Garbo’s hands trailed up their sides, dipping under the fabric of their cropped jacket to feel their back, tracing the dips of their muscles before Matador spoke, breaking them out of their trance.
“Stop being so damn handsy and shut off already.” They murmured in strangely passive irritation, their own hands fiddling with the fabric of Garbo’s hood. The bot blushed a bit as their wandering touch was acknowledged since they were hardly paying attention to what they had been doing. “You don't seem all that inclined to make me stop, matchstick.” The bot replied with a quiet laugh, their plastic bag head leaning closer to rest in the crook of Matador’s neck. “Don't push your luck.” They snapped back, their own hand now rubbing Garbo’s back slowly.
The two laid like that for some time and Garbo eventually fell into their sleep-like state- a mode the bot usually shifted into while charging. Matador fought sleep for a bit after Garbo had passed out, but the inherent comfort of the situation had them nodding off easier than they’d ever care to admit.