Work Text:
He couldn’t breathe.
CLANG!
Oh robo-God, he couldn’t breathe.
CLANG, CLANG!
The macabre images of the mansion sent his head spinning while the sound of fleshy hands against metal rang closer. He could feel the rotten flesh ghost lightly against the back of his neck- how her cold, undead fingers touched but didn't quite sense. Body wracked with shivers and breaths coming out in shallow hiccups, N did everything he possibly could to keep quiet.
Trembling hands hovered over the deep, burning ache that radiated from within his core and seared through his insides like a hot knife. He couldn’t stave the lingering phantom sensations of being torn to shreds by sharp, scalpel edged claws that dug into his interiors and pulled out his worker drone entrails, stuffing the newly hollowed cavity with infected software. He didn’t want this. He had never wanted this.
The ringing in his audials is loud, sending waves of twisting fear coursing through his body and reducing his eye lights to hollow circles of yellow. He had to be quiet, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t because his systems were forcing him to gulp down copious amounts of air; air a drone shouldn't even need.
Before he could stop it, his suppressed hiccups turned into desperate gasps, then into hitching sobs. What had once been a slight tremble in his frame had ramped up to a violent shaking fit. Panic became surrender, and like hopeless prey, he waited in trepidation.
At least he didn’t have to wait for long.
There’s no time to process what’s happening other than pain as a hand is suddenly thrust through his chest from behind with enough force to lurch him forward. Cold fingertips pierce unforgivingly into the innervated flesh of his core— pulling, ripping, tearing until the wires snap and spark in a blinding white flash of heat. Eyes- no, an eye darts around feverishly before catching a glimpse of a lifeless and oil soaked drone body- HIS body, FATAL ERROR displayed in bold red letters. Oh robo-God, it’s HIS body. He isn’t even in his own body anymore.
Now significantly smaller (and much more organic) he’s finally turned around to face his captor, who’s eyeing the meaty morsel squirming in her grasp with sharp golden eyes. Cyn. She lifts her new prize to the pale beaming lights with a twisted look of admiration: like a cat marveling the scraps of a dying mouse.
Let me in.
She’s not speaking, her mouth isn’t moving, but the monotonous words still sound out from ever stretching shadows. The solver’s mantra is enough to physically sicken him with fear, and if he still had a body, he certainly would’ve thrown up.
Let me in.
The incisive white teeth lining Cyn’s widely parted mouth dribble with thick cords of saliva as N is forced to stare death down the throat. He wasn’t ready to die.
Let me in.
He didn’t want to die.
Let me in.
Let me in.
LET ME IN.
LET ME IN.
———
N finally wakes up. Shaky hands- HIS hands, actual drone hands that are attached to his intact body grab for and find purchase on the cold silky sheets beneath him, a futile attempt at quelling his racing core as it continues to work within the safety of a metal ribcage. Hollowed yellow optics frantically scour the dark corners for anything and everything that might indicate the presence of Cyn, but it isn’t until N’s foggy CPU finally breaks free of a post-slumber delirium that he’s able to properly digest his surroundings. The room is bathed in a soft purple glow that radiates from the LED strips that run along the ceiling edges, casting just enough light for him to make out the drawings plastered to the walls, which he quickly recognized as his. Whatever he’s laying on is exceptionally comfortable, and..
The disassembly drone lifts his head just enough to look down, squinting at the shapeless lump while his eyes work to adjust. There, curled neatly on top of him, was a still fast asleep Uzi. Her signature black beanie had long been discarded, and the words [SLEEP MODE] displayed in a bold gradient of yellow and purple.
N soundlessly exhales in relief and lets his head drop back onto the pillow beneath it, thankful that she hadn’t been a part of his nightmare. She was safe. He was safe.
Still, a tiny whine manages to whistle through the frightened drone’s throat, and he subconsciously wraps more of himself around his snoozing partner before burying his face into her silky purple hair, a small amenity amidst the chaos. He was fine. He needed to be fine.
Fear wound loops around his lungs and pulls taut, expelling the last of the silver haired drone’s breath into one forced wheeze. This was ridiculous, pathetic, even. It had only been a dream, but that didn’t seem to stop his mind from making a bad night worse.
“I’m going to wake up Uzi.”
The revelation is like a slap in the face, and definitely didn’t make the whole ‘trying not to panic thing’ any easier. He fidgets uncomfortably beneath the weight of the worker in a hopeless attempt to stave off the nauseating dread as it pooled heavily in his synthetic guts. A particularly harsh shiver runs down the length of his mechanical spine and makes the ports of his wings itch. If he could just sit a little more upright, or at least as upright as possible in this case, maybe he could grasp at the fleeting reigns of his runaway mind before he lost them to the wild animal in his head.
A loud hiccup later and he’s clasping a hand over his mouth, fingers reflexively curling into the small of Uzi’s back while his stomach lurches in turmoil. He wanted- NEEDED to run, to hide, to get away- away from the electrifying feeling of panic that kicked his fans into overdrive. But he couldn’t. Not without waking up Uzi. Not without causing a scene, not without-
Stop! N willfully commands in his head, certain that spiraling any further would be of no help. It was a fight just to keep himself from hyperventilating: and a fight he definitely wasn’t winning right now.
The purple haired drone snuggled on top of him shifted with an agitated sounding huff, likely dissatisfied with all the commotion he was trying so hard not to make. He didn’t want her to worry- she didn’t need to worry about him. He was fine.
N did his best to bite back the noises of distress that bubbled up from his throat and threatened to escape, only for them to slip past clenched teeth in pathetic sounding whimper. By this point, his attempts to stop the rapidly escalating turmoil were fruitless.
It didn’t take much longer before his little episode disrupted Uzi, who lifted her head and blinked wearily against the remains of sleep. No, no, no no no! He could not let his girlfriend see him like this.
Systems screech a multitude of warnings as he watches her push herself upright, planting a hand firmly on either side of his quivering form and prompting N to shrivel in on himself, a fresh breath of air snagging somewhere deep within his chest. Her dual colored eyes are still fuzzy with sleep, but they sharpened and narrowed suspiciously upon seeing him.
With a horrifically dry mouth, he at least manages to string together enough words to make a sentence.
“Oh, uhm- Uzi! I’m fine! A-Actually, I was just about-“ he’s forced to stop in favor of taking a greedy breath of air, artificial lungs starved of oxygen he didn’t even need.
The worker sits back, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow, concerned for her boyfriend’s wellbeing but unamused with his antics.
“I’m calling bullshit. You look pretty close to freaking out.” She states, giving him another skeptical once over before her expression melts to worry. “Or.. maybe actively freaking out.”
The disassembler could only deny it with a swift shake of his head, suddenly too short of breath to give her a coherent verbal answer. He can distantly hear her asking more questions, fussing over him: just worrying in her own Uzi way- but none of it is enough to pry the cold claws of terror that had hooked deep into his plating.
Overwhelmed, he carefully wiggles his way out from beneath Uzi in favor of sitting upright and slumps forward with a hand splayed flat against his heaving chest. He could feel the way his core hammered sporadically within his chassis, spasming as if it were trying to wrench itself free. A sickening twist of nausea settles in his stomach at the thought that maybe it was.
“N, hey-“ He hears Uzi start, her voice just loud enough to catch his attention yet still softened to the utmost with care.
“Hey. Talk to me. What’s going on? Are you ok?” She cautiously reaches for the hand that isn’t on his chest with one of her own, flinching when he does.
At this point he couldn’t speak even if he wanted to, the bolus lodged in his throat told him that much. Optics screwed shut, he desperately shakes his head again while frantically stammering for some sort of excuse at the cost of his expendable breath, which only intensifies the feeling of suffocation. It didn’t matter anymore how much he blabbered or what he blabbered about. He just needed something, ANYTHING to throw off Uzi’s reading of him before she noticed his tears, if she hadn’t already.
“N…”
A distressed whimper is all he can manage, and she gives his hand a firm squeeze in response. N squeezes back- a small and subconscious plea for something.
”N.”
Her voice was firm, and sounded much louder in his head than what it probably was. Too much. It was just too much, and the only answer he could force past the lump in his throat was a pitiful, shaky ‘no’.
The small admission is all it takes to make him break. The tall drone curls in on himself, wincing at the familiar burn of digital tears as they spill from his golden eye lights. Her room falls into uneasy silence, save for his rapid breathes. His whole body feels tingly and numb, except for in the hand that Uzi now held. When did that happen?
Without warning, she releases his hand to instead tug him closer, and soon gentle arms have snaked their way around the taller drone’s middle. He can’t help but flinch, then freeze. It was just supposed to be a hug, from his girlfriend of all drones, yet he felt more like a caught animal than anything. It should have felt good. It should have felt safe and warm. It didn’t.
N is only faintly aware of the drone that was so carefully holding him now, but the simultaneous hyper-focus on not passing out or bursting into tears keeps him from fully tuning in. Until the small worker uses a hand to press the side of his head against her sternum, just above her core. He’s suddenly roped into the rhythmic ‘lub-dub’ sound resonating from the center of her chassis, the gentle hum of her inner workings quieting the buzzing in his audio receptors— and it's a bit easier to breathe.
Of course he knew it was just Uzi. He knows he doesn’t have to expect pain. He knows he won’t have to stomach seeing the gore of his own lifeless, discarded body from the perspective of his core. He knew that when he opens his eyes, he’ll be greeted with the placid lavender hue of Uzi’s room and welcomed with solace and familiarity. When he opens his eyes, he won’t be in the desolate hallway of the cabin fever labs. There won’t be the ineffable smell of meat and metal. There won’t be hurt, and it won’t be Cyn.
It takes a minute or two before he’s finally able to take a full, proper breath. He tries to steal a brief peek through squinted eyes, willing himself to actually look up and meet Uzi’s gaze head on. He expects a biting remark from her sharp tongue, or some kind of reprimand for waking her up with his ridiculous antics- the usual treatment he’d always received from his squadmates. At first, her expression reads one of pure, unfiltered worry before morphing into her best attempt at a reassuring smile. The corners of her lips are curved into lopsided points and her eyebrows add a concerned slant to her dual colored optics, while sleep tussled purple hair frames a look of uncertainty. It’s awkward, but genuine, and something so distinctively Uzi about it. Her own special way of showing him she cared— one that highlighted a guarded, rocky past of her own.
Beads of bright yellow tears begin to gather at the edges of his eyes, and he lets his head drop back against her chest before she can see any more of them fall. The inherent need to explain why he was such a mess still runs at the forefront of his mind: but he can’t be bothered. It was already too much of an effort to match the rhythm of her breathing.
He moves to hide his face in the crook of her neck and eventually manages to reciprocate the hug with a weakened one, thankful for the shelter in his girlfriend’s ever-loving embrace. The arms around him tighten in response- protective, gentle, safe. He squishes himself even closer against her (which shouldn’t have worked, given their size difference) before all but falling apart into cathartic sobs: ugly, wretched, and raw. He didn’t want to cry, and definitely not to this extreme, but the grounding hand rubbing firm circles into the small of his back finally coaxes out the rest of the tears. And for the first time in a while, he didn’t try to stop them.
He isn’t sure how long he cries for, but not once did Uzi cease her gentle ministrations. She continues to work, letting her hand run a predetermined path up and down the length of his spine, occasionally stopping to draw a shape or two between his rigid shoulders. Even with her efforts he still couldn’t stop himself from shivering, but his girlfriend doesn’t seem to mind the occasional sniffles or the rattling exhales, only content on ensuring her boyfriend feels ok.
“..Bad dream?” She eventually asks, a normally sharp tone softened around the edges with concern.
N bites into his bottom lip- hard. He nods, which causes Uzi to shift and plant the tiniest of kisses to the side of his head, a much welcomed delicacy that makes the receiving drone purr. A fragile smile plays across his lips. Even though most of their time knowing each other had been filled with fear and uncertainty, she still knew how to calm him down: better than he knew how to himself.
“You.. probably don’t want to talk about it right now, do you?” She asks.
N nods again, subject to his own predictability- or maybe Uzi just really knew her way around with him.
“Yeah, kinda figured..” He hears her say from where his face is hidden, and he relishes the smooth vibrations her voice box creates against his audial receptors. He could listen to her talk for hours.
The worker drone’s fingers card softly through his silver hair, and it isn't until then that he realizes just how exhausted he is. He slowly puts more and more of his weight onto his girlfriend, blinking away the remnants of tears through half lidded eyes. He didn’t want to sleep, but as the pads of Uzi’s fingers continued to skillfully work their way into his disheveled hair, he found it harder and harder to resist. He sniffles, opens his mouth to protest, but doesn’t get very far before it’s overtaken by a wide yawn.
Uzi, ever so observant, parts from the hug to reposition herself upright against the headboard of her bed. She leans back with open arms, motioning for N to join her.
“I love you, ok?” The worker murmurs as N clambers into place, situating himself to lay partially on top of her. She tugs at the blanket until it’s resting comfortably over the both of them, a cocoon of safety from all things scary.
N feels the warmth of her words flood into his systems, a smile creeping onto his face once more as he returns the phrase. “I love you too. You’re..” he pauses to break off into a second and more drawn out yawn, “really amazing..”
“Ugh, gross.” Uzi says with a fond roll of her eyes, trying and failing to hide a tiny smile. Somewhere beneath the covers, her hand finds his, and she gives it a loving squeeze that makes his mechanical heart flutter. “Now go to bed.”
He certainly didn’t need to be told twice. With one final sigh of content he lets his eyes drift shut, and a much needed peaceful sleep soon follows.