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The dark spots in his surveillance over the base were still an unsettling source of uncertainty for Robot, even days after the promise to stop monitoring the Teen Team's private quarters had been agreed upon. So he had made some other adjustments to account for the change in circumstances. He re-engineered his joints so that his gait was no longer as heavy, and also managed to lower the hiss of the hydraulics to a level that most humans couldn't hear. The new design had the tactical advantage of being more stealthy, both out on the field and during his patrols around the base.
Then he modified those patrol routes to make them less predictable. Instead of following the usual optimized path, his drone would wander from room to room in a seemingly more erratic pattern that was subtly weighted to often lead him through the hallway outside of Rex's room. He knew that Rex had learned the old pattern by now, and would likely be extra restless and inclined to wander the base at night. That was because, once again, Eve and him had gotten into a vicious argument and their relationship was supposedly 'over.' Previous incidents had proven that likely wouldn't remain the case for long.
One night, as he wandered past the showers on an evening patrol, his acoustic sensors picked up the low hiss of water, accompanied by Rex softly humming to himself. Robot paused just outside the entrance and listened in. Exactly two minutes and 37 seconds later, Rex stopped making noise, then cut the shower off as well. Robot continued to wait as he heard Rex walk over to where the towels were and begin to dry himself off.
Instead of Rex coming straight out in nothing but a towel, though, Robot heard the boy take a seat on one of the benches next to the lockers and mutter quietly to himself, "This shit fucking itches..." Then he heard the distinct noise of something tacky being peeled away from skin, followed by Rex's breath growing more jagged and uneven than before. Robot realized that Rex must be trying to pick at the scabs of the laceration on his forearm, and he had peeled back the highly advanced medical patch that'd been placed over it to do so.
Robot immediately strode into the shower to stop him. When Rex looked up, his wet hair was still dripping water onto his bare shoulders and he had only loosely draped the damp towel across his lap. The smug, brash front that Rex usually carried as a shield was nowhere to be found when he'd been caught off-guard so thoroughly. His eyes grew wide as he startled, nearly dropping the towel from how badly he jumped.
"Whoa, tin man! What the hell? We talked about this! Privacy!" Rex yelped, his voice cracking as his attempt at bravado failed. His hands dropped to his sides to hold the towel in place as he glowered up at the gleaming mass of metal walking toward him. Robot had already entered his personal space before he thought to try and stand up.
Robot tilted his head. The whir of his optical lenses was the loudest sound in the room, as he focused entirely on the exposed expanse of Rex’s chest and stomach. The skin there glistened with leftover droplets of water, and goosebumps were rapidly forming under the intense gaze. "I heard you breathing heavily, so I came in to check on you," Robot stated calmly. Then he shifted his attention to the trickle of blood slowly dripping down to Rex's wrist. "It appears you were agitating your wound," he pointed out. "Let me see it."
"I'm fine, just get out-" Rex began.
"If the bio-sealing patch is compromised, infection is far more likely." Robot spoke over the boy as he leaned down, bringing his faceplate just inches from Rex's. The sheer physical presence of the machine was suffocating. Before Rex could raise his hands to push him away, Robot’s right hand shot forward and clasped around Rex's wrist.
Rex shouted as he tried to pull away, but Robot was far stronger, the machine's grip utterly unyielding. The metal thumb was pressed tightly against the center of his wrist hard enough that he couldn't twist his hand away as it was turned over to reveal the damage. Through the haptic sensors in the drone's hands, Robot could detect the rapid thumping of Rex's heartbeat.
He felt the damp, radiating heat of the boy's skin, the slight tremor of his muscles, the sharp spike of adrenaline. It was intoxicating. Somewhere else far away, Rudy’s actual, withered throat twitched with a phantom swallow. He didn't want to release Rex's wrist. To let go would be to sever his only connection to a world that was warm, wet, and beautifully alive, plunging him back into his decaying tomb. Rex's racing heartbeat had more of his attention than the warning beeps of his life pod as his own malformed heart began to speed up as well.
"Your pulse is elevated," Robot noted. He seemed more fascinated than alarmed by the observation. "You do realize I'm just trying to help, don't you?"
Rex couldn't breathe. He was staring at the unmoving face of the machine, searching for something in the metal. All he could see was his own reflection in Robot’s lenses. He looked just as small and nervous as he felt. "You're too close, Robot," he whispered pleadingly. "Let go of me."
"I can't do that until I've readjusted the patch," Robot told him as his other hand hovered over where the patch had been peeled back, revealing the end of the half-healed gash he'd gotten during his earlier flight into the city. It was red at the edges where Rex had successfully picked away the scab, blood oozing out. "See? You've already caused some irritation." Robot chided as he gently touched the area. Rex sharply inhaled at how cold Robot was compared to the angry heat of his cut.
Rex’s jaw worked silently. A burning flush crawled up his throat, coloring his cheeks and ears deep red. He felt violated, completely exposed, stripped of his clothes and his dignity by a machine that didn't have the capacity to feel shame.
But as the seconds ticked by, the initial terror began to mutate. The grip on his wrist was the only steady thing in Rex's chaotic, violent life. Robot wasn't yelling at him, but he also wasn't ignoring him. He was entirely, obsessively focused on him. The freezing metal provided a sense of grounding. It felt safe, in a weird, twisted, completely claustrophobic way.
"Whatever," Rex muttered. The fight drained out of him all at once. His shoulders slumped against the tiled wall, his head tilting back in a gesture of total, exhausted submission. He looked away, unable to meet the glowing green lenses of the machine. "Just... hurry up."
Robot didn't answer immediately. He let his finger linger on Rex's skin for a few moments longer than necessary, recording the exact chemical composition of Rex's blood and sweat, the rapid frequency of his pulse, and the precise thermal signature of his blush. "As you wish, Rex," Robot finally said softly, while tools deployed from his fingertips to mend the patch. "I will always ensure you are taken care of."
"Yeah, yeah," Rex grumbled, then fell silent as he watched Robot fix the fraying edge and reapply fresh medical adhesive to the underside of the patch. When he briefly sterilized the area, the momentary sting made Rex hiss. Before he could begin to complain, Robot smoothed the edge of the patch back into place and then stood back up and stepped away.
"Please don't do that again," Robot requested. "The patch will disintegrate on its own once you are fully healed."
Rex rubbed over the patch, the ache of the injury beneath it helping him focus. "Okay, Dad," he groused sarcastically. "Now can you get out? I wanna get dressed."
"Understood, Rex," Robot confirmed before he turned away and left the room. Rex waited until he was sure that Robot had wandered away entirely before he got up and started to finish off his usual shower routine.
Robot considered the concessions Rex had made the previous night to be an invisible social barrier that he'd managed to cross, subtly lowering the boy's boundaries in the process. Now that he felt he had positioned himself as a caretaker instead of a jailer, Robot didn't hesitate to try and exploit that further.
His personal surveillance of Rex increased. It became especially apparent on the nights when Eve returned to her parents' home, while Kate kept to herself and her clones. Every time Rex rounded a corner to enter one of the communal areas, he'd find that Robot was already there, conveniently busy with something or other. Rex quickly recognized that there was more than one of the iconic orange drone wandering around, but Robot was clever enough with their movements that he only ever found one at a time.
Even when he was training in the gym, trying to burn off the tension with physical exertion, he knew that Robot could likely be found standing above him in the observation bay. The booth remained otherwise unlit except for the glow of Robot's eyes, but Rex could also make out the distinct silhouette against the deeper darkness. The machine had his arms clasped behind his back, motionless. Rex could see the overlay of Robot's optical sensors shifting as he silently watched. He didn't even bother to wave, or say anything over the intercom.
There was no escaping the gaze without hiding out in his room, where his thoughts could catch up to him, so Rex turned away and began to get set up for his workout. He put on some music, something heavy and bassy that was turned up entirely too loud, in order to drown out the noise in his head. Then he loaded heavy plate weights onto one of the barbells. He forced himself to act natural as he removed his top first, like usual, before he laid back on the bench. Rex pushed through a grueling set, his muscles burning, sweat stinging his eyes. He was fighting desperately to feel in control of his own body.
On the final rep, he racked the weight with a harsh clang. He sat up, grabbing his shirt to wipe his face before glancing back up at the booth above. He frowned when he noticed that at some point, Robot had wandered off. Not knowing where he had gone was even more unsettling than the knowledge that Robot was looming over him like some creep. Rex slowly stood up, wiped his neck, and left the gym to go try and sleep.
Unfortunately, slumber proved elusive. Rex was only able to nap for a short while. Halfway through the night, he awoke in a cold sweat. The nightmares had been familiar, but it didn't make them any less effective at bothering him. His subconscious had chosen to linger on the past tonight. The crippling poverty of his childhood, followed by the mix of cold indifference and overt manipulation he'd experienced at Radcliff's facility after being sold. Added to the volatile mix were flashes of the violence that he'd both wrought and received in the line of duty.
Parched and desperate for something else to take his mind off the dreams, Rex threw his covers aside and got out of bed. He exited his room and padded quietly to the kitchen down the darkened hallway. He could have turned on the lights, but tonight he wanted it to stay dark. The base was devoid of any noise but the low hums of whatever inane systems Robot had installed within the walls. He knew the layout well enough to navigate in near-darkness.
He reached the kitchen, then opened the cabinet and groped around carefully for the first mug he touched. It was probably one of their branded Teen Team mugs, though Rex couldn't confirm that with such low visibility. He shuffled and felt his way across the counter to the sink, then filled the mug with ice-cold water and took a long, thirsty gulp. The chilled liquid settling in his stomach, as well as the process of procuring it, helped him forget why he'd woken up in the first place.
He had gone to refill the mug for another drink when the lights overhead began to hum. They didn't power on to their full strength, but they did turn on dimly. Rex finished filling the cup before he turned to look, only to startle as he discovered that somehow, Robot had snuck right up on him. "Jesus, Robot!" Rex shouted as he tried to back away, then yelped as he ended up whacking his elbow into the counter hard enough to make his hand convulse.
His grip faltered enough that the mug, while laden with water, dropped from his hand. It hit the hard linoleum floor and shattered. Shards of ceramic scattered across the ground, while the water splashed over both Rex and Robot's feet. The loud crash made Rex flinch as he briefly expected to be hit for it before remembering where he was. Robot hadn't moved except to incline his neck forward to look down at the mess in between them.
"Do you just follow me around!?" Rex snapped incredulously, his voice cracking. He pressed his back hard against the counter, his chest heaving as he stared at the machine. "Can't you at least start making some kind of warning beep or something? You're creeping me out!"
Robot tilted his head when it took him a moment to compose a reply, a usual habit of his to show his acknowledgement. "I don't follow you," he explained, "I anticipate you. I have mapped your behavioral patterns. When your sleep cycle is disrupted by nightmares, you seek hydration at approximately this hour. I am simply here to ensure you do not injure yourself in the dark."
Rex’s breath hitched, the air catching in his throat. A cold dread coiled in his stomach. "What, are you analyzing my dreams now?"
"Your respiration patterns and micro-vocalizations during REM sleep are quite distinct," Robot explained carefully. Somehow, a sort of warmth had leaked into his droning monotone. "I have cataloged the specific vocal frequencies you emit when experiencing night terrors. Your distress is highly predictable."
Rudy knew the exact frequency of those night terrors because they mirrored the ones that plagued his own useless brain. He knew what it was like to wake up choking on darkness, trapped in a body that felt like a cage, at the mercy of people who only valued what you could do, not what you were.
Before Rex could process the sheer, invasive horror of that admission, Robot reached out. His large, metallic hand rose between them. Rex flinched again, expecting a harsh restraint or strike, but Robot’s movements were agonizingly slow and deliberate. With the absolute precision of both a surgical instrument and a weapon of war, his cold metal fingers brushed a stray lock of sweat-damp hair away from Rex's wide eyes.
As the drone’s hand paused at Rex's cheek, Rudy’s actual, misshapen hand twitched inside the tank, crooked fingers curling in on his palm. When the drone's thumb brushed along the edge of the boy's jawline, Rudy closed his one working real eye. For a brilliant, fleeting second, he was able to forget that he wasn't really there. He wasn't a monster in a jar anymore. He was a caretaker. Rex needed him to be here.
Unlike before, when they'd been watching a movie together, Robot didn't snatch his hand away in seeming embarrassment. He let his heavy, cold palm rest gently against Rex’s burning cheekbone. The titanium alloy absorbed the frantic heat of Rex's skin. Rex trembled violently under the touch, a heavy shudder rippling through his shoulders as he made sense of Robot's confessions. "That's... that's stalking, man. That's total psycho shit."
"Stalking implies a malicious or predatory intent," Robot countered. "My intent is purely your preservation," As he spoke, Robot's thumb lightly moved back and forth over the line of Rex's jaw, the rest of his fingers holding the boy's face steady. "You are inherently unstable, Rex. Yet, you are also so fragile. Left to your own devices, you'll break everything, including yourself. My objective is simply to prevent that from happening."
Rex stared up into the emerald-hued lenses, his mind spinning into a dizzying, chaotic vortex. The logic was twisted, monstrous, and entirely suffocating. This damn machine was telling him that he was weak, that he was broken, that he had no right to a single private thought, not even in slumber. But as Rex looked into those glowing eyes, feeling the unyielding, grounding weight of the metal hand on his face, a sickening, intoxicating warmth began to bloom beneath the terror.
In truth, nobody had ever perceived him this deeply. In a world of superheroes, magic, and aliens, Rex had always been little more than a disposable asset, the loudmouthed screw-up, the boy who blew things up. But to Robot, he wasn't background noise. Robot had studied his flaws, cataloged his fears, and decided that Rex’s broken pieces were worth keeping together.
The isolation of the base as a whole, the exhaustion of the nightmare, and the strange, crushing intimacy currently taking place in the kitchen all collapsed into a single point of surrender for Rex. "You're a total obsessive weirdo, aren't you?" Rex whispered, his voice losing its anger, dropping into a breathless, vulnerable admission. He didn't pull his face away from the cold metal hand. If anything, he leaned a fraction of a millimeter into the touch.
"Perhaps," Robot replied flatly, the focus reticle of his lenses contracting tellingly as he took a snapshot of Rex's current expression, cradled within the drone's hand. "But it's for your own good. Now, return to bed. I will clean the mess." He dropped his hand and stepped away far enough to allow Rex the room to beat a hasty retreat. Once Rex had fully absconded back to his room, Robot bent down to collect and dispose of the broken mug.
The next time the whole team was together with some downtime to spare, Robot requested that they all meet in the simulation chamber to practice some tactical drills. After each run, Robot critiqued the girls' techniques the same way he normally did. He rattled off about the balance of efficiency, wasted movements, and unnecessary collateral damage risks. His sharpened tone would usually leave Rex red-faced and threatening to leave by the end of the breakdown. Except lately, he didn't seem inclined to berate Rex as harshly as the others.
It led to Rex becoming complacent. He whiffed his throw three times in a row, yet Robot still hadn't begun to lecture him for it. The third time, it was Eve who groaned, standing up straight as she wiped sweat from her forehead and tucked some stray hair behind her ear in one swipe of a hand. "You're messing this up on purpose!" she accused him.
"Yeah," the nearest Kate to them agreed immediately. The Kate that had been closest to Rex's mis-aimed blast walked over as well, with a scowl. "And that time, you almost blew me up!" the second one added, crossing her arms.
"Whatever, there's another one of you right there," Rex spoke to the nearly-blasted Kate as he motioned with his thumb to the first one. Both Kates began to visibly grow tense in impending outrage.
Before she could begin to yell at him, Robot spoke up to announce flatly, "My sensors indicate there was a localized thermal spike in the simulator's primary capacitor, which likely caused a micro-second delay in the visual feed. The error is on the system's end, not user-driven."
Rex reminded silent. He hadn't noticed that there was anything wrong with the simulation. He then caught onto how the overlay of Robot's lenses changed to the setting that focused on their facial expressions, and figured out that Robot was analyzing if they believed the lie he'd just told. Rex's eyes narrowed suspiciously. He realized that Robot had just covered for him, even though he'd been obviously messing around.
Eve looked skeptical, but then just sighed. "Whatever. I guess we can't keep doing this until Robot recalibrates it, then," she declared. Robot shut the simulation down and opened the door to the chamber so that her and Kate could leave. Rex lingered, staring at Robot with a curious, calculating spark in his eyes.
"A micro-second delay, huh?" Rex questioned softly. "Didn't know the tech was slipping, Robot."
"The tech is operating within optimal parameters," Robot replied, his voice dropping into a quieter, strictly confidential register. He didn't turn his chassis to look at Rex, keeping his posture perfectly aligned with the main control panel, giving the illusion of detachment. "However, your cortisol levels were already elevating rapidly. I've noticed that public reprimand from any of us merely hastens that rise. Additionally, continuing to practice the simulation would have yielded diminishing returns for all of us by that point. So I adjusted the training to prioritize stability."
Inside the pod, Rudy's gaze entirely fixed on the video feed of Rex's small, surprised smile. It was a bit of a white lie, though. He didn't care about Rex's tactical stability as much as he cared about Rex's dependence. By stepping between Rex and the girls, Rudy was knowingly cutting him off from the only peers who could offer him even a chance at a semi-normal life. He wanted Rex to look at the world and see only Robot. He wanted to be the architect of Rex's comfort, the sole provider of his peace, because if Rex looked anywhere else, Rudy felt like he'd cease to exist.
Rex’s throat went dry. To him, Robot was actively managing his emotional state, even shielding him from the girls' scrutiny. "Whatever," Rex muttered dismissively, but a faint, involuntary smirk was tugging at the corner of his lips as he turned to walk away. "Thanks."
"It is only a logical optimization," Robot sent after him, the words a quiet promise meant only for Rex's ears.
Over the next week, the favored treatment became a series of quiet, intoxicating privileges that were only afforded to Rex. When the team ordered food or specific equipment upgrades, Rex’s requests were always processed first. His favorite protein bars, which both girls likened to dog food, suddenly appeared en masse, in a dedicated drawer of the kitchen.
During missions, Robot would give Rex more leeway to make his own decisions, even when the choices made were a bit dicey. So far, everything had been working out in their favor, even if there were a couple of close calls.
On the days they weren't so busy, Rex spent late hours in the gym. He discovered that the ambient lighting in his specific section didn't automatically shut off to conserve power like it did for the rest of the base after Robot's set curfew. Instead, it stayed bright around where ever he was on the gym floor, keeping him perfectly illuminated while the rest of the room fell into shadow. It gave him the sensation of being on a stage, which encouraged him to try and push himself harder, to show off. After all, he knew he was being watched whenever it happened.
The rest of the team remained mostly blind to the shift, but the isolation it created was profound. Rex found himself keeping secrets. When Eve or Kate later complained to him about Robot being cold or rigid during a briefing, Rex stayed silent, a sickeningly sweet sense of exclusivity settling in his chest. 'He’s only like that with you,' Rex would think, his chest swelling with pride. 'He’s different with me.'
Cecil soon tagged them in on an ongoing job. The Teen Team reviewed a hologram map of the city's underbelly, in order to suss out potential hideouts for the cult's remaining loyalists.
Apparently, this cult had actually managed to forge a contract with something, and made a deal to become mole rat people, capable of burrowing. If they didn't use their newfound powers to make buildings collapse, nobody would even care about all that. Alas, that's exactly what they'd begun doing, though by now there were just a few straggling loners left of their membership.
Robot highlighted a section of abandoned subway tunnels. "I suggest we do a manual sweep of this perimeter. We want to remain under the radar for as long as possible, so no reckless behavior."
"Yeah, Rex," one of the Kates groused. Rex blew a raspberry at the one who'd said it.
"Kate," Robot said sternly, and she quieted. Even when Rex snickered at her for being reprimanded, Robot still didn't get onto him. "As I was saying... Rex and I will take the lead. Kate, Eve, you two will hold the back line."
"I could cover more ground at once with my copies," Kate pointed out, "and really, if we're trying to be sneaky, Rex shouldn't be in front."
"I know how to be sneaky," Rex pointed out.
"Well, I don't mind. I can put up barriers behind us from the back," Eve had to say about her position, with a shrug. "Besides, I'm still mad at you," she turned to briefly point and glare at Rex, "for flirting with that girl we saved the other day."
"What? She just wanted to thank me!" Rex brushed it off with a small laugh.
Robot hadn't been particularly fond of that moment either, which was why he'd been keeping Rex close to his side during the missions after that, including this time. Not only did it weaken the rest of the team's cohesion with him whenever Rex's eye wandered, but it also irritated Rudy personally, though he didn't note that aspect of his disapproval aloud. After all, Robot had already been looking the other way when it came to Rex fraternizing with the other members of the team, so why did he need to continue seeking more partnerships outside their group?
Upon being reminded of having to watch Rex smile and wink at a mere civilian, Rudy's malformed legs spasmed in a violent but useless kicking motion. His self-installed medical alarms beeped sharply at him to calm down, though he paid them no mind for now. 'She doesn't know you,' Rudy thought, a toxic, bitter bile rising in his throat. 'She doesn't know the exact weight of your heartbeat, or the sound you make when you're suffocating in your sleep. I rebuilt this base for you. I gave you a stage to burn on. You are mine.'
To the rest of the group, it just looked like Robot had gone still for a moment, and took a second too long before he spoke up again. Probably just another random glitch. "The team composition will remain as I've dictated it," Robot told them firmly, leaving no room for further dissention. "With that being said, we should prepare to head out shortly. We'll meet on the roof once everybody is ready."
As the meeting dismissed and the girls walked out to get ready, Rex stayed behind for a moment. He looked up at the orange drone, the heavy metal frame that had once felt like a prison warden, but now felt more akin to a guardian. "You've really been sticking your neck out for me lately," Rex said, his voice a low, teasing whisper. "The girls are gonna start getting jealous."
Robot turned his head to face Rex, lenses illuminated with a steady, unblinking intensity. He stepped forward, just enough to let his physical shadow fall over the boy. "They have no baseline for comparison," Robot told him. "I engage with them using my standard protocols. You require specialized attention, Rex. I am merely providing you with what you need to operate at maximum efficiency."
Rex stared into the unblinking gaze of the machine. He could feel that suffocating yet comforting sense of pressure washing over him all over again, which caused his cheeks to grow warm. It didn't make him feel spied on so much anymore. Instead, he felt chosen. "Yeah," Rex agreed softly, a completely willing smile breaking across his face. "Guess I do. Thanks, Robot. Let's go."
The situation with the mole rat people was taken care of without much difficulty, thanks in part to Rex's increasing compliance with Robot's orders on the field. They'd even managed to subdue and take in one of the cultists instead of wiping them out entirely, so that the GDA could try and obtain intelligence from the twisted hybrid. That night the team went to bed feeling successful and fulfilled.
Despite the positive energy when they went to bed, as Robot passed by the bedroom door in the night, his sensitive microphones picked up on Rex's breath stuttering and hitching, as well as the faint friction of the sheets that he was tossing and turning against. He was murmuring, too softly for even the highly-advanced Robot to make out the exact words, as well as moaning under his breath. Another night terror, no doubt. Robot stopped in front of the door and turned to let himself into the boy's room pre-emptively.
The bedroom was dark, illuminated only by the faint green luminescence of Robot’s lenses as he approached the edge of the mattress. Rex was tangled violently in his sheets, his bare chest heaving as his eyes darted around rapidly beneath closed eyelids. He'd stopped thrashing as Robot approached and was now completely still, his muscles locked in a state of rigid, trembling tension, a thin sheen of sweat catching the dim light of the hallway.
Robot leaned over him, but the boy didn't immediately react except by breathing even more heavily, worryingly so. "Rex, wake up," Robot’s voice was a soft, modulated hum in the quiet room. "Your biometrics indicate severe distress. You are hyperventilating."
Rex startled awake, so violently his skull nearly cracked against the headboard. He scrambled backward, his heels digging into the mattress, twisting the heavy comforter frantically around his waist and lap in a messy, defensive heap. His eyes were wide, blown-out, and fixed on the orange machine with a look of absolute, unadulterated horror.
"Jesus! Fuck, Robot!" Rex gasped, his voice raw and scraping out of his throat. He pressed his back hard against the wall, his chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow jerks. "What the hell? Get out! Get the fuck out of my room!"
Robot leaned back up and tilted his head curiously. "I detected a significant anomaly in your sleep cycle. Your respiration and core temperature are dangerously elevated. Was the nightmare centered on the Radcliff facility again?"
"No! No, it wasn't! Damn it, just back off!" Rex snapped, but the usual heat in his anger was missing. It sounded more like panic.
Robot didn't back off. With slow, surgical precision, his large metallic hand rose between them. He extended his arm, intending to perform the exact grounding ritual that had worked in the kitchen. As the heavy, cold fingertips brushed against Rex's sweat-damp forehead and down along his cheek, Rex's whole body gave a shudder.
For a fraction of a second, Rex didn't pull away. He stared at the unmoving faceplate, his jaw working silently, a dark, suffocating realization visibly crashing through his eyes. The physical sensation of the real thing had caused him to remember more of his dream. The cold, dense weight of Robot's hand pressed against his skin perfectly matched the phantom sensation that had just woken him up.
He could have handled a normal wet dream. If he woke up sticky because his brain had conjured up a memory of Eve’s mouth, or the easy, brainless heat of a late-night hookup with Kate, he could live with that. He’d been distancing himself from them, he was pent up... it would make sense. Hell, he would have even preferred a violent, blood-soaked nightmare about the work he'd done for Radcliff over this.
Rex hadn't been dreaming about any of those things, though. He had been dreaming about this. His unconscious psyche had imagined how it would feel to have unyielding metal pinning him into the mattress, cold mechanical fingers tracing every inch of his body, and that intense, suffocating emerald gaze boring into his very being until he was begging for more. His own body had betrayed him to a damn machine. The realization soured into an acute, sickening wave of shame that made his stomach turn.
"Don't fucking touch me!" Rex suddenly shrieked, his voice cracking as he violently swatted Robot’s hand away. The force of the strike rang out like a dull gong. Rex tucked his knees tightly against his chest and yanked the blankets up to his chin, his face flush with mortification. "I said get out! Just get the fuck out, you stupid over-programmed freak!"
Robot paused, his hand remaining suspended in the air where it had been deflected. Inside the pod, Rudy hesitated as he tried to make sense of Rex's sudden hostility. Meanwhile, Rex buried his face into his knees, refusing to make eye contact right now. The signs of distress were only becoming more obvious the longer he lingered. Robot took a step back and dropped his arm back to his side.
"Understood," Robot stated calmly, though Rudy's own throat felt even tighter than usual. "I'll return to my patrol. Please, try to get some more rest, Rex." The drone turned and walked out, door sliding shut behind it.
The next morning, the whole team met up in the common area. Eve was reviewing some homework from school, and Kate was currently occupying the entire sofa with her clones. Rex leaned against the kitchenette counter, knocking back a glass of orange juice. It was evident in the darkened circles under his eyes that he hadn't slept well the night before.
Yet, when Robot strode in, Rex straightened his posture. "Morning," Rex greeted, then noticed that Robot was carrying in a fresh case of his protein bars, even though the drawer was only half empty. As Robot set about to restocking them anyway, Rex snorted and remarked, "Careful, Robot. Keep spoiling me like this and I might think you're trying to take me out on a date."
Eve groaned and interjected with, "Rex, shut up. It's too early for your ego." Kate didn't respond directly, but one of her picked up the remote and turned the volume up a bit.
"That's..." Robot took a moment to respond fully, which made Rex's smirk grow. "That's ridiculous, Rex. I am merely optimizing your caloric and nutritional intake." Rudy felt a warmth in his face. One that was uncharacteristically pain-free, given his physical fragility. It really was an utterly ridiculous prospect, basically impossible, but not entirely unpleasant to imagine.
"Yeah, sure. Whatever you say," Rex said knowingly, then began to walk towards the exit. On his way past, he patted Robot's lower back, while still wearing that infuriatingly handsome smirk that suggested more than his words did. As he exited the room, Robot stood, locked in place while Rudy struggled to make sense of what had just happened. It had to be a joke. Rex was an obnoxious, hyperactive teenager who used inappropriate humor to handle stress. It was a defense mechanism. It had to be.
Eve and the Kates all exchanged incredulous glances to one another as they both wondered if they'd just witnessed the exchange. "Did Rex just hit on Robot?" Eve asked aloud, incredulously.
"Yeah, and I think he broke him in the process. Robot?" Kate directed their attention to the drone that had been completely still since Rex had left.
"No," Robot insisted flatly as Rudy shook himself out of the shock at the prompting tone of Kate. "I'm sure it was just a joke. Not a particularly funny one, but just a joke. Perhaps sarcasm," he reasoned.
"If it makes you uncomfortable-" Eve began to offer.
"I am incapable of feeling discomfort," Robot immediately insisted defensively, just as much to remind himself as it was to convince them.
"Still, if you don't want him doing that, we can tell him to knock it off," Kate added on.
"I can handle it myself," Robot told them. Kate and Eve exchanged wary glances behind his back, but dropped the subject.
Over the next two days, Rex’s new habit became impossible for Robot to ignore. It was always wrapped in Rex's usual loud, over-familiar bravado, but the frequency of physical contact between the two had skyrocketed.
During mission briefings, Rex would stroll into the room fashionably late, casually toss an arm over Robot's metallic shoulder, and lean his weight against the drone while looking over the GDA files. When Robot handed him a tablet with additional information, Rex wouldn't just take the device. He'd let his fingers purposely brush against Robot’s metal palms, lingering for a beat too long. Even in passing down the narrow hallways of the base, Rex would give Robot a firm, playful slap or a fond pat on the chassis as he drawled out a greeting.
To Eve and Kate, it looked like Rex was just being his usual, boundary-ignoring, obnoxious self, and was doubling down on his awkward joke to annoy the machine. But Robot’s proximity sensors recorded a completely different story. Every time Rex's bare skin made contact with the drone's chassis, the boy's heart rate took a sharp momentary jump. He was testing the waters, pushing the envelope to see exactly where the machine's programming would break.
Rudy savored the contact each time that Rex initiated it, but he also dreaded it in anticipation, and then afterward, as Rex chuckled teasingly and went on his way, Rudy resented it. He wondered how it must feel for Rex, compared to way he was only able to track the sterile data coming in through the neural link. Outwardly, Robot remained stoic, albeit a touch too still when it happened. It never occurred to him to actually try and make Rex actually stop doing it.
He wasn't the only one affected. By the second evening, the tension inside Rex's head had reached a boiling point. The constant proximity, the lingering shame of the wet dream, and the intoxicating thrill of touching the drone without being pushed away had left him completely wound up and ready to snap. He retreated to the gym late at night, desperately trying to burn off the restless energy.
The bass from Rex’s speakers made the floorboards of the gym vibrate, a heavy, distorted thrum that did absolutely nothing to quiet his thoughts. He was on his third set of bench presses, his shirt tossed carelessly over a nearby rack. Every muscle in his arms and chest was burning, slick with sweat under the harsh fluorescent lights. He was pushing himself to the point of exhaustion.
With a grunt, Rex slammed the barbell back onto the rack. The heavy iron clattered loudly, barely cutting through the music. He sat up, gasping for air, and wiped his forehead with the back of his forearm. Involuntarily, his eyes darted upward to the unlit observation booth. The silhouette was exactly where he expected it to be. Standing perfectly motionless behind the glass, with his arms clasped behind its back, was Robot, his glowing eyes cutting through the darkness. They were focused squarely on Rex.
Rex’s pulse, already elevated from the workout, took another erratic leap. The memory of all those casual pats and touches over the last forty-eight hours rushed through his mind, mixing with the heavy post-workout heat. A dangerous, reckless spark flared up in his chest. If Robot was going to let him touch him all day, then Robot had no right to act like a detached supervisor at night.
Rex grabbed his towel, draped it loosely around his neck, and stood up. He didn't look away from the booth. Instead, he deliberately walked closer. As he did, the lights followed his path, keeping him fully illuminated. He stood there, bare-chested, his chest heaving from exertion, and smirked straight up at the glass.
"Take a picture, it'll last longer," Rex yelled over the music, his voice dripping with his trademark, obnoxious bravado. He paused, his smirk widening into something sharper, more mocking, as he added on tauntingly, "Oh, wait. You probably already did, didn't you, you pervert?"
Up in the booth, the orange chassis didn't move. But inside the hidden tank, the words hit Rudy like a physical blow. Was that what he was? Was his desperate, vicarious attachment to Rex's vitality nothing more than a grotesque intrusion? But if it was an intrusion, why had Rex spent the last two days constantly reaching out to touch him? Why had the boy's skin registered such an intense thermal bloom every time he made contact with the drone's chassis?
Before Rudy could calculate a response, he watched the video feed as Rex casually walked over to the sound system, punched the power button to kill the music, and gestured toward the booth with a cocky jerk of his chin.
"Come on down, Robot!" Rex called out into the sudden, echoing silence of the gym. "Don't hide up there in the dark."
Inside the tank, Rudy’s real, malformed heart was hammering against his ribs, triggering a dull, pulsing ache in his chest. He'd already silenced the alarms that should have been going off, because being around Rex set them off too much. He should ignore the provocation. He ought to route the drone back to the hangar. That was the logical choice. Robot turned away.
The door leading to the booth opened to allow for Robot's descent into the gym. Rex didn't move an inch. He stayed rooted in the center of the light, watching the machine approach. The smug, infuriating smile was still plastered on his face, but his biometrics, which Robot’s sensors picked up the moment he stepped onto the gym floor, had gone completely haywire. Rex’s body temperature was spiking, and his chest was rising and falling too fast, even accounting for his recent exercise.
Robot stopped exactly three feet away, standing over Rex. "Your linguistic choice is highly inaccurate, Rex," Robot stated, his modulated voice maintaining its flat, clinical standard, though the focus reticles in his lenses were contracting rapidly as they mapped the sweat dripping down Rex's collarbone. "My data collection is purely empirical. I do not possess the capacity for prurient interests."
"Yeah, yeah, big words," Rex drawled, stepping even closer, entirely ignoring the concept of personal space. He had to tilt his head back significantly to look into the green lenses. "But you didn't deny taking the pictures, tin man. You got a whole folder of me in that computer brain of yours?" It was an obvious test. Rex was fishing, pushing the boundary as hard as he could to see if he could make the machine glitch on purpose.
Rudy was entirely trapped. He did have the files. He had every second of Rex's telemetry saved on isolated servers. If Rex knew the absolute, suffocating extent of Rudy's obsession, he should have run away in horror. Instead, the boy was stepping closer, his skin radiating a heat that Rudy could detect through the thermal feedback from Robot.
"The visual logs of all training sessions are archived for tactical review," Robot replied, his voice dropping into that quieter, confidential register that he only used when they were in private. "Including yours, of course. If you find my presence disruptive to your workout, I can vacate the room." Robot began to turn away.
Rex’s smug armor cracked. The amusement vanished from his face in a fraction of a second, replaced by that raw, desperate panic from the night of the dream. Except this time, he didn't want Robot to leave. He couldn't stand the thought of the lights shutting off and being left alone in the dark gym to his own spiraling thoughts.
Before Robot could actually step away, Rex reached out and grabbed the drone’s forearm. His sweat-slick palm pressed flat against the metal, fingers curling tightly around Robot's wrist. "I didn't tell you to go," Rex whispered, his voice suddenly dropping its volume entirely, sounding small, intense, and completely conflicted. He stared up at the unmoving faceplate, his fingers digging into the seams of Robot's wrist joint. "Just... stay. Watch me. I don't care."
Rex wasn't joking anymore. The rude comments and insincere demeanor had been concealing his intentions, but right now, holding onto the machine in the quiet gym, the veil dropped. Rex was offering up his privacy, his body, his entire autonomy, begging for the suffocating attention he had once hated.
Robot didn't pull his arm away. Instead, the drone slowly rotated his wrist within Rex's grip, allowing his heavy metal fingers to lightly brush against the inside of Rex's forearm, over the nearly-dissolved medical patch that hadn't been tampered with since Robot had fixed it. "Very well, Rex," Robot murmured softly, the internal cooling fans of the drone whirring a little louder in the silence. "I will stay."
He did step back at that point, but not to escape. He only moved away as far as he needed to in order to give Rex room to go back to the equipment. Rex had already done weights, so now he chose to focus on his cardio with a treadmill. Robot silently fell in step behind him, watching without comment.
Once it had started, the hum of the treadmill was the only sound left in the gym. The training equipment issued a steady, mechanical whir that anchored them both in the moment. Rex kept his eyes locked straight ahead, his gaze fixed on the blank wall of the gym, but his biometrics were betraying every single ounce of the focus he was pretending to have.
Robot was standing exactly two steps behind his left shoulder, and the pool of overhead light remained concentrated entirely on them. Every time Rex's sneakers hit the rubber belt, the impact sent a jarring vibration up his spine, but it wasn't enough to shake the memorized sensation of Robot's metal fingers brushing along his inner arm.
Robot’s optics didn't shift. The focus reticles within his lenses contracted with clinical precision, tracking the rhythmic, rapid expansion of Rex's lungs. Through the thermal sensors, Rudy watched the boy’s body heat steadily rise, painting Rex’s chest and shoulders in brilliant, bleeding shades of crimson and orange on his console feed. He had to keep reminding himself that Rex had requested his presence, that he wasn't doing this in secret anymore.
The realization cycled through Rudy’s neural network, overriding the diagnostic protocols that were currently flagging his biological heart rate as dangerously high. Rex knew enough. He didn't know the grotesque reality of the tank, but he still understood the weight of the attention. He knew that Robot was cataloging him, storing him away in isolated servers, but instead of pushing the machine away... Instead of running to Eve, Kate, or even Cecil, anyone else who could save him, Rex had reached out and invited Robot to stay, to continue collecting the data.
Rex increased the speed on the treadmill panel. The beeping of the button echoed loudly, and then the whole machine grew a few decibels louder as it began to pick up speed. He was running harder now, his chest heaving, sweat flying from the tips of his damp hair as his head tilted back slightly. Rex craved the exhaustion. He wanted his legs to burn so badly that he couldn't think about the fact that he was actively performing for Robot.
"Your stride is shortening on the left side," Robot’s modulated voice cut through the mechanical hum, the flat monotone filling the space between them. "You are favoring your right. It is creating an inefficient distribution of force."
Rex let out a breathless, ragged laugh, not looking back. "Then... I guess you'll have to take a look at it, huh?" he panted, his voice strained from the exertion.
"For that, you'd need to stop the treadmill," Robot suggested. Rex’s fingers hovered over the controls, trembling slightly. The logic was entirely transparent. There was nothing truly wrong with his left leg, and they both knew it. He was just reaching the end of his endurance, and Robot just needed the 'logical' excuse. Even knowing that, Rex hit the stop button with a low, defeated exhalation.
The treadmill belt slowed to a gradual halt. Rex grabbed the handrails, his chest heaving violently as he lowered his head, his damp hair shielding his face from view. He didn't move to grab his towel. He just stood there, completely spent, his body radiating heat in the climate-controlled air of the gym.
Robot shifted to stand behind Rex and then closed the remaining distance, his large metal hand settling firmly against the left side of Rex’s hip to stabilize him. During the run, Rex's gym shorts had slipped slightly, allowing for metal to meet bare skin. Robot could feel Rex's pulse hammering directly beneath his palm. Rex didn't flinch. He didn't swat the hand away. He just let out a long, shaky breath and leaned back slowly, until the heat of his shoulder blades brushed against the cold chest plate of the drone.
Against the cold, unyielding titanium of Robot’s chest, Rex’s bare back felt molten. He was trembling all over. Not just from the physical exhaustion of the intense workout session, but from the sheer, suffocating weight of the proximity. Rex leaned into it and let his head drop back, his damp hair sticking to the orange metal of Robot’s collar.
Inside the secret hidden capsule, Rudy’s actual, malformed chest rose and fell in a matching, frantic rhythm. The data streaming into his neural link was a torrential downpour of sensory input: the precise thermal signature of Rex's damp skin, the slight, rhythmic hitch in his lungs, and the absolute lack of resistance. "Your heart rate is still elevated," Robot murmured. "The exercise has concluded, yet your pulse continues to climb."
"Shut up," Rex panted, his eyes closed. A deep, dark flush covered his neck and face, the crimson heat practically blinding Robot's infrared sensors. "Just... give me a second." Robot's hand remained anchored on Rex's hip, his metal thumb pressing firmly against the pelvic bone. Through the haptic sensors, Rudy could feel the exact cadence of the boy's life force. It was terrifyingly fragile, yet so vibrant it made Rudy's own shriveled limbs ache with envy.
"I told you before, Rex," Robot stated softly, the whir of his internal cooling fans expanding in the silence as the drone was triggered to begin actively venting the heat he was absorbing from Rex. "Left to your own devices, you'll break yourself down. You require a stabilizing force."
Rex let out a breathless, bitter chuckle, his shoulders slumping heavier against the chassis. "And you think that's you? A glorified calculator?"
"I am the only one who anticipates you," Robot replied smoothly. He didn't pull back. Instead, his other hand rose slowly, the metal fingers tracing up the side of Rex's damp rib cage, agonizingly deliberate, before resting just over the hurried thumping of Rex's heart. "I am the only one who ensures you do not fall apart."
Rex’s breath hitched completely. The sheer, terrifying intimacy of being known so deeply, his nightmares cataloged, his weaknesses guarded, and his broken pieces held together by a machine that didn't know how to look away, it all finally broke through any remaining stubbornness.
"You're a real weirdo, you know that?" Rex whispered, his voice cracking with a raw, exhausted vulnerability. He didn't push the metal hand away from his chest, either. Instead, his own hand rose, his fingers curling weakly around Robot's metallic wrist, anchoring the machine against him. "A total control freak."
"Even if your assessment is correct, which I won't confirm..." Robot's flat monotone returned, though the green lenses flickered with a steady, intense brilliance as he logged the exact weight of Rex's hand on his own. "It is efficient, isn't it? And it is what you both want and need."
Rex didn't have the energy to argue after successfully wearing himself out in the gym. He just closed his eyes tighter as he allowed the freezing alloy to ground him, completely surrendering to the specialized attention he had spent weeks pretending to fight against. If anything, he realized with a physical jolt against the drone holding him, he wanted more than Robot was already offering.
"Since you're so fucking desperate to take care of all my needs..." Rex whispered suggestively as he settled his free hand over the fingers still splayed across his hip. He tightened his grasp and began to guide them inward toward his crotch. The fact that he could even budge the machine's hand at all was enough proof that Robot was allowing him to take it this far. Rex didn't know whether he felt vindicated or not that, in the end, despite the machine's pompous and arrogant attitude, Robot was actually no better than anybody else who'd ever held a position of authority over him.
"Rex?" Robot questioned as his hand was being shifted. When the tips of his fingers first registered the heat, he flinched back by a mere millimeter, his arm locking up to prevent any further external manipulation.
"Don't act naive, I know you're not the prude you pretend to be," Rex growled, annoyed by the hesitation. "You think the way you stare at me doesn't make it obvious? Don't back off now that you're getting what you want."
By now, Rudy felt lightheaded from the sympathetic tremors wracking his real body. The other drones that were all busy with other activities went idle as he directed his full focus onto the one engaged with Rex in the gym. He suppressed the visual warnings of the alarms that'd already muted, so he could consider this turn of events. Rex's behavior was too forward and blatant to write off as part of an extended joke. This wasn't just submission to a caretaker. Rex was willingly offering up the most private, volatile part of his autonomy to a machine. Did he really want this?
Rudy knew he shouldn't be indulging the boy. They'd already gone too far, crossed too many lines with one another. If somebody caught Robot, right now, with his hand halfway in Rex's shorts, how did he expect to explain himself? But Rex had been the one to put Robot's hand down there, so close that the sensors could still detect the bulging warmth between his legs. Robot couldn't help but be drawn closer, metal fingers splaying out over the top hem of Rex's underwear beneath the loose shorts. "If I do this... it will remain a secret between us, right?" Robot asked.
"I know that. Wasn't planning to kiss and tell," Rex gritted out as he tried to lift himself up to his tippy-toes in order to close the final bit of distance for himself. "Just shut up and... and take care of this. It's your fault, anyway, for always hovering over me," Rex panted, his grip still anchored onto Robot's wrist, though he knew that even if he let go, Robot wouldn't move away.
Rudy heaved as he was vicariously feeling the burning heat of the boy's body through the drone's synthetic touch. It was a grotesque, beautiful transgression. Robot’s other hand moved to wrap firmly around Rex’s chest, pinning the boy backward against his chassis. Both of them were trapped in the exact center of the spotlights above.
The unyielding titanium fingers pressed down, deliberately applying a slow, rhythmic pressure through the fabric just above the source of the tension. Robot’s optical lenses whirred with clinical precision, the green reticles contracting to capture every micro-expression, every flush of dark crimson spreading across Rex's neck, every breathless, vulnerable sound escaping his lips.
"The data is... novel," Robot murmured, the internal cooling fans inside his torso spinning up to a frantic, high-pitched buzz as they struggled to vent the thermal load of the heat building up around their intertwined forms. "Your heart rate has reached 119 beats per minute."
"Y-yeah, that's the point, genius," Rex tried to bite back, but his voice was shaky and breathless. "Just need you to move... a little lower," he added on pleadingly, with a roll of his hips.
Robot’s hand moved with deliberate, mechanical precision. The heavy metal fingers delved further until they had slipped beneath the waistband of Rex's underwear, the stark contrast of the cooled metal sending a sharp, visible shiver through Rex’s entire torso. When the drone’s palm fully closed around him, Rex let out a low, appreciative groan. "Without context, your current biometrics would suggest that you are experiencing a panic attack," Robot mused aloud. "I've never had the opportunity to compare the differences between that and an arousal response."
"Shut up with the psychotic fucking biology chatter," Rex muttered, "and just keep going."
Robot heeded his command. Guided by the precise telemetry shifting across his visual display, the machine began fondling him. The feedback from the drone's hand registered everything, including the intense, radiating heat, the increasing build-up of bodily fluids, and the involuntary twitches of Rex's muscles.
Every detail was cataloged, stored in isolated servers, and fed directly into Rudy's consciousness. For Rudy, trapped inside his self-made tomb, the experience was intoxicating. He was completely immersed in the vibrant, chaotic reality of Rex’s vitality. His head had tipped downward so that he could observe the exact rhythm of Rex's rapid breathing and the tight line of his jaw.
With every deliberate stroke and squeeze of the smooth metal fingers, Rex’s breath grew shallower and more frantic. He was completely caught, stripped of every defensive wall he had ever built, entirely dependent on the machine holding him upright in the empty gym. He leaned heavier into the support, his head resting back against the drone's shoulder, completely surrendering to the suffocating attention.
The underlying hum of the gym was completely drowned out by the needy, unscripted sounds breaking free from Rex’s throat. A low, gravelly moan tore past his lips, quickly dissolving into a string of breathless, ragged curses as the movement and slick friction pushed him past the point of any remaining restraint.
He wasn't just taking it anymore. His hips hitched forward, his lower body bucking instinctively into the unyielding hand, seeking more of the sensation. Every time his body surged against the metal fingers, the blunt contact sent a shockwave of impact straight back through the haptic feedback loop.
Rex’s heartbeat had rapidly climbed to a dangerously high peak, his respiratory depth was shallow and chaotic, and the sheer kinetic force of his movements was registering as a series of heavy strikes against the drone’s pressure sensors. Rudy had become entirely detached from his real body, as both hands and legs began twitching uselessly in the suspension liquid while he rode the wave of Rex’s escalating, violent pleasure.
Robot’s right arm tightened like a steel band around Rex’s chest, hoisting him up slightly to bear his full weight as the boy’s knees began to weaken. Rex was completely pinned against the massive orange chassis, suspended in the bright overhead light.
"F-fuck... Robot, just..." Rex choked out, before a harsh, desperate moan that he couldn't hold back cut him off. His hips jerked forward again, his fingers clawing uselessly at the seams of the oversized joint that composed Robot's wrist. His head thrashed back against the drone's shoulder, his face completely dark crimson, slick with sweat and entirely undone. "Don't... don't slow down... fuck!"
Luckily for Rex, Robot had no intentions of slowing down. Programmed for absolute control and efficiency, Robot adjusted the cadence of his hand to perfectly match the frantic bucking of Rex’s hips. It didn't take much longer before that final surge of perfectly-timed friction had completely broken down the boy's remaining control.
Rex choked on a sharp, ragged gasp, his whole body locking into a rigid, trembling line. A loud undone cry tore from his throat as he came hard against Robot's hand and into his underwear, his hips jerking forward in a series of intense, helpless spasms. His legs would have given out entirely by now were it not for Robot holding him up.
The haptic sensors in the drone's palm registered the exact, rhythmic pulsing of the boy's life force, the intense thermal spike, and the thick fluid that was now coating the synthetic fingers. Through the neural link, Rudy absorbed the sheer, chaotic magnitude of the scene, his own chest heaving inside the tank in a hopeless attempt to experience an echo of Rex's breath.
Robot didn't move an inch, his form remaining a flawless, immovable pillar of support that held Rex completely upright in the center of the spotlighted gym floor. He maintained the firm, grounding pressure, allowing the boy to shudder through the aftershocks of the climax as the tension slowly began to drain from his spent muscles.
The cooling fans inside the drone gradually decelerated from their earlier strain, though the vents on his back continued to exhale a steady stream of hot air into the otherwise air-conditioned room. Robot’s optical lenses shifted through different modes as they mapped the deep, dark flush cooling on Rex's neck and the heavy, uneven rise and fall of his bare chest that was finally beginning to slow down.
"Was that satisfactory?" Robot asked, tone carefully modulated to conceal the fact he was begging to be told yes. Rex barked out a short laugh of disbelief.
"Yeah, yeah. 'Satisfactory,' sure," Rex huffed out, as he glanced back to show Robot he was beginning to smile. "Maybe even a little more than that." After analyzing the expression enough to confirm it was sincere, Rudy began to calm down as well. He checked his own vitals to make sure they were returning to the baseline. He'd been ignoring his own condition, but the logs held evidence that he'd overextended his own physical capabilities just as much as he'd been pushing Rex's body.
"The feedback has been logged," Robot murmured. "Physiological recovery is tracking within acceptable parameters."
Rex let out another weak huff, his head still resting heavily against the orange chassis. The initial rush of the climax was fading, replaced by a deep, heavy exhaustion that made his limbs feel like lead. Yet, he didn't make any move to pull away just yet, and his fingers remained loosely curled around Robot's wrist. "You're a real piece of work, you know that? Still talking about parameters, even after all of that."
"You told me I could log the data from this encounter," Robot countered swiftly. Then, with deliberate, careful movements, Robot withdrew his hand from beneath the waistband of Rex's underwear. The sudden absence of the pressure made Rex shift uncomfortably, a cool draft hitting his sweat-slick skin. Robot reached over to the nearby bench, retrieving the discarded towel, and held it up before them.
"You should cleanse yourself and return to your quarters," Robot advised, though his right arm remained securely wrapped around Rex's waist, continuing to bear the majority of the boy's weight. "Extended exposure to the AC while damp will induce chills."
Rex took the towel with a trembling hand, but instead of immediately moving away, he looked up into the glowing green optics, his expression a mix of lingering vulnerability and his usual stubbornness. "And what about you? Just going back to your creepy patrol?"
Inside the tank, Rudy’s longing gaze met with the faint, expectant look on Rex's face. The secret was theirs to share, an invisible, unbreakable thread tying the vibrant, chaotic reality of the boy directly to the silent darkness of the pod from which he was being constantly observed.
"My patrol routes will be adjusted to monitor the corridor outside your room for the remainder of the night," Robot stated, as the subtle tilt of his head conveyed an attempt at mechanical warmth. "To ensure your sleep cycle remains uninterrupted."
Rex looked away, a faint flush reappearing on his cheeks, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward. "Yeah, whatever. Just don't let the girls see you skulking around my room like that, perv."
"I've accounted for the possibility of detection," Robot assured him. Then, slowly, Robot loosened his grip, allowing Rex to regain his footing entirely. Rex stood on his own, leaning briefly against the treadmill console for balance as he began to clean himself up.
After issuing a farewell of, "Good night, Rex. Sleep well," then Robot stepped back into the shadows to slip away, so that Rudy could pour over the data for the rest of the night. Rex finished wiping up the worst of the mess and then left the towel discarded on the floor as he left for his bedroom.
The next morning, Rex woke up with a heavy, leaden ache in his limbs and a throat that felt like sandpaper. He lay staring at the ceiling for a long time, the stark, white morning light cutting through his blinds. His mind was an absolute storm. The memory of what had happened last night was looped on a permanent reel in his head. This time, it wasn't just a wet dream.
He felt a sudden, sharp spike of anxiety in his chest. He had crossed a line he couldn't even see anymore, now that he was looking back on it. Rex hadn't just allowed Robot to watch him in order to be a tease about it. He'd been the one who had taken the machine's hand and guided it into his own shorts, then begged for him not to stop.
After rolling over and shoving his face into his pillow, Rex let out a muffled, frustrated groan. He needed to move. He needed to get out of his room before the walls started closing in. More than anything else, he needed to go prove to himself that he hadn't fucked everything up out there.
When he walked into the communal area ten minutes later, the bright, domestic normalcy of the scene hit him like a slap in the face. Eve was sitting at the breakfast bar, a textbook open in front of her, idly twirling a pen between her fingers. Kate was leaning against the refrigerator, arguing quietly with one of her clones about who had used the last of the almond milk.
Rex forced his shoulders to drop, slouching into his usual, easy stride. He was running on pure adrenaline and raw nerves, but he cracked a wide, cocky grin as he approached the counter. "Morning, ladies," Rex drawled, his voice a little rougher than usual. "Don't look too excited to see me."
Eve didn't look up from her notes, but a faint, amused smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Rex went to go set up the coffee machine. As he waited for enough of the liquid to filter through for him to pour a mug, Robot entered the room. He carried a heavy crate of electronic components, headed toward the secondary counter on the other wall.
Rex felt his heart stuttering beneath his ribs as he turned to watch Robot begin meticulously laying out various engineering parts and tools in neatly-aligned groups. A sudden flush of heat rushed up his neck. But instead of pulling away or shrinking into the background, the reckless, defensive instinct in his chest flared to life. If he backed down now, if he acted weird, the girls would notice instantly. He had to double down. He had to treat Robot exactly like he had before, like a joke.
Rex took a deliberate step toward the drone. As Robot was still sorting out the pieces of his project, Rex didn't hesitate. He strolled right into the machine’s personal space, casually tossing his left arm over Robot’s shoulder, and leaned heavily against the chassis. "You know something I noticed recently, Robot? You're pretty sleek for a walking trash can."
His fingers instinctively twitched, his mind instantly mapping the exact texture of the seams he had been pressed against the night before. He was hyper-aware of how close they were, hyper-aware of the fact that this massive, terrifying machine had held his entire weight up while he came apart from its touch just the other night.
Beneath his arm, Robot went utterly still like a switch had been flipped. Inside the hidden pod, Rudy’s console instantly began warning him about his uncontrollable physical response. He hadn't anticipated Rex being this flagrantly bold right in front of the team. Robot's limbs had locked up defensively again, providing a sturdy anchor for Rex to keep lounging against.
From the breakfast bar, the scratching of Eve’s pen stopped entirely. She looked up at the two of them, her eyebrows furrowing in a mix of genuine confusion and mild irritation. Kate stopped her bickering, and her clones turned in unison to watch Rex casually lean against the drone. The silence in the kitchen grew heavy and sharp.
"Rex, seriously?" Eve finally spoke up, rolling her eyes as she set her pen down. "Are you trying to make Robot blue screen on us? It's literally eight in the morning. Leave him alone. It's not funny anymore."
"Yeah," Kate chimed in, crossing her arms. Another one of her added on, "Now it's just getting weird."
Rex felt a cold sweat break out under his collar, but kept his arm draped over the drone, forcing a smug, hollow smirk onto his face as he looked over at the two. "Hey, the big guy doesn't mind. Right, Robot? We have an understanding. He handles the logistics, I handle the style."
Before either of the other team members could retort, Robot’s flat, droning monotone filled the kitchen. "Rex's physical contact operates within his established baseline for attention-seeking behavior," Robot stated, his vocal modulator set to keep his tone level. "It does not disrupt my current operational efficiency or the calibration of these components. There is no logical reason to alter the dynamic."
To Eve and Kate, it sounded like the standard, rigid response of an unbothered computer. But to Rex, the subtext was deafening. Robot had just legitimized the touch. He had given Rex a permanent, public license to keep putting his hands on the drone without raising a single alarm.
"See?" Rex chuckled, though his voice was a fraction too tight as he finally let his arm slide off Robot’s shoulder, his fingers lingering for a brief fraction of a second against the metal seam. "He doesn't even care! You're the ones making it weird."
Eve shook her head, muttering something about him being an idiot, and went back to her textbook. Kate sighed, heading down the hallway with her clones. The tension in the room dissipated as quickly as it had formed, leaving Rex standing by the counter, his chest swelling with a sense of accomplishment at how they'd dissuaded suspicion. Best of all, when he turned back to check, the coffee was ready.
Later that afternoon, the base had fallen into a quiet, post-training lull. Kate had left to run errands in the city, and most of Robot’s drones were occupied in the lower hangar decks with some maintenance that needed to be done on their usual drop-in vehicle. Rex had retreated to the side of the roof overlooking the river. He leaned his elbows against the concrete railing as he watched the clouds drift by, trying to clear the lingering static from his head.
The sound of the electronic door sliding open made Rex glance back, and truthfully, at first he expected to see Robot. Instead, Eve stepped onto the balcony, holding a pair of cold beers. She had changed out of her uniform into a pair of comfortable jeans and a sweater. She walked over to the railing, offering him one of the cans with a soft, uncharacteristically gentle smile.
"Hey," she said quietly. "You looked like you needed a break."
Rex blinked, caught off guard by the lack of edge in her voice. He took the proffered can, the cold aluminum refreshing against his palms. "Yeah. Thanks. Just... thinking, I guess."
Eve leaned against the railing next to him, her shoulder lightly brushing his. She looked out over the water for a moment before turning her head to study his profile. The skepticism that usually defined her expression when looking at him was entirely gone, replaced by something warm and searching.
"I've still been watching you ever since the last time we broke up, Rex," Eve began softly, her voice sliding into a private, intimate register. "And... I've really noticed a change this time. You're not blowing up during briefings. You're actually listening to Robot's callouts on the field. You're putting in extra hours in the gym without anyone even telling you to do it. Other than teasing Robot more than usual, you've been doing really good lately."
Rex’s throat went dry. He stared down at the beer in his hand, his thumb nervously clicking the metal tab. "Uh, yeah. You know me. Just trying to be a team player."
"No, it's more than that," Eve said, stepping closer, turning her body fully toward him. She reached out, her warm, soft fingers gently resting on his forearm. "It shows real maturity. You're finally growing into the person I always knew you could be. You're becoming... reliable."
She paused, her eyes locking onto his with an earnest, vulnerable intensity that made Rex’s stomach twist into a sudden, violent knot.
"I was thinking..." Eve continued, her cheeks coloring with a faint, pretty blush. "Since we've both had some time to breathe, and you're doing so much better... maybe we could try again? You and me, I mean. We could start dating again, Rex. We'll just take it slow this time."
The offer was exactly what Rex had spent those first few lonely days dreaming about. In the past, he'd thought of it as the ultimate validation. The beautiful, perfect superhero girl who would tell him he was finally good enough, offering him a path straight back to a normal, healthy, human relationship. But as he stared at her earnest face, a wave of acute, suffocating panic crashed over his mind.
His eyes instinctively darted toward the upper corner of the roof entrance, immediately spotting the small, dark lens of a security camera mounted under the roof awning. Rex knew that Robot had to be watching and listening, waiting to see how this would play out. He could practically feel the green lenses burning into the back of his neck, logging the sudden, frantic spike in his heart rate.
"Eve, I..." Rex stammered, his voice cracking as his usual bravado completely failed him. He pulled his arm back slightly, breaking the contact with her hand. "Wow. That's... I didn't expect that."
Eve’s smile faltered slightly, her brow furrowing at his hesitation. "Rex? Is something wrong?"
As he scrambled for words to buy time, the absolute, terrifying truth hit him like a bomb. He wasn't just panicked because Robot was spying on them. He was panicked because he didn't want what she was offering.
Dating Eve meant maintaining an exhausting human standard. It meant apologizing for his flaws, hiding his ugliness, and constantly fighting to be the 'good boyfriend' she deserved. She wanted him to change. She loved the version of him that was 'well-behaved.' And his occasional fling with Kate had been fun, but it was ultimately based on nothing more than mutual physical attraction and a lack of restraint.
But Robot? Robot took him exactly as he was, even when he was broken, desperate, and volatile. Rex didn't have to pretend to be a hero all the time. He could be completely undone, and the machine would hold his entire weight up without a single word of judgment. Robot’s attention was suffocating, specialized, and entirely all-consuming. To a kid who had spent his whole life being discarded or manipulated, the absolute monopoly of the machine felt a hell of a lot safer than love with expectations. He didn't want to leave behind whatever he had going on with Robot.
"Look, Eve..." Rex forced out, scratching the back of his neck as he looked away from her, his face flushing a dark, conflicted crimson. "I'm... I'm really glad you noticed the effort. Seriously. It means a lot coming from you. But honestly? I don't think I'm ready to just jump back into a relationship right now."
Eve blinked, completely stunned. "What? But Rex, you'd usually be..."
"I know, I know," Rex interrupted quickly, his voice tight as he pushed through the lie. "But I don't want to screw it up again. I'm still trying to get my head straight, trying to figure things out. If we rush into it now, I'll just end up fucking it all up and breaking everything again, like I always do. I just need some time to focus on myself. On the team."
He risked a glance back up at the security camera. It hadn't continued its usual passive sweep over the entire rooftop. It was locked onto Rex and Eve, acknowledging their discussion. Before Eve noticed his wandering attention, Rex focused back onto her.
Eve stared at him for a long, quiet moment, searching his face for any sign of a joke. When she saw only the tense, raw seriousness in his eyes, her expression softened into something deeply touched, completely misinterpreting his rejection as a sign of the maturity she'd just been pointing out.
"Wow," Eve whispered, a small, sad smile appearing on her face. She reached out, gently patting his shoulder. "That's... I can respect that, Rex. It takes a lot of guts to admit you're not ready. Take all the time you need. We're still a team."
"Yeah," Rex muttered, his chest aching with a heavy, suffocating guilt as she turned and walked back inside. "Still a team."
The moment the door slid shut behind her, Rex let out a long, shaky breath, his hands trembling so badly he almost dropped the beer down the side of the bridge. He had just severed his last emotional exit ramp back to a normal life. He had chosen the shadows that Robot hid within over the light that Eve emanated, completely surrendering himself to the invisible cage Robot had custom-built for him. And the most terrifying part of all was the fact that as he stood alone, still looking out over the city, he couldn't wait for the sun to go down so he could go find the drone in the dark.