Chapter 4
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
She had to admit it was efficient. The way he seemed to know exactly what he needed and where to find it, even though it was Robin who had set up and organized this base in the first place. The way his mechanical hands worked in conjunction with his organic ones - one unwrapped the gauze, the other cut it, one uncapped and poured the sterilizing antibiotic all in one go, one was keeping her steady as it pressed up against her upper thigh.
Affected still by the fuzzy feelings Al-an had somehow planted in her head, the dulled feeling of pain and the chemicals dictating her happiness and comfort coursing through her veins, she just laid back with her head back on the pillow. She wasn’t uncomfortable with his proximity to her nude form, but she didn’t know if that was because she was truly okay with the circumstances or if his little trick was the true culprit. It was conflicting, though she didn’t have much mental capacity to entertain that.
The ordeal was done and over with in only a few mere minutes and Robin only noticed when she realized she had been free of his touch for a few seconds. She propped her head up to look at him to discover he was finished and simply looking at her now.
“Oh, all done?” Robin questioned, feeling on some level like she should be recoiling at his gaze and covering herself up but simply not having the brainpower to truly feel those feelings. She did have one of her arms draped lazily over her chest, though.
“Yes,” Al-an responded, a tone to his voice that seemed awkward. “But I am unsure of what to do now.”
“What?”
“Your culture,” Al-an looked away, feigning interest with a lantern tree growing out of a pot in the corner, “I thought I was more familiar with it than I was. I do not know what to do now, to keep you from being angry and uncomfortable.”
Robin was a little taken aback by his words - it wasn’t often that Al-an admitted to not knowing something, but that wasn’t the main surprise. The main surprise was the way he spoke to her, so softly, if she didn’t know better she would’ve thought he was afraid. Of … upsetting her?
Had she really gone so far? As to make Al-an feel afraid of angering her, making her uncomfortable? To feel like he’s walking on eggshells around her?
Robin sighed. “Oh, Al.”
He turned to look at her immediately, head tilted slightly with hints of curiosity. She almost smiled at it, and she would have if she wasn’t feeling so guilty.
“I’m sorry that I said such mean things.” It was Robin’s turn now to shamefully avert his gaze. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I guess with everything going on lately it’s been harder to understand and control my emotions.”
A moment of silence passed between them.
“I understand.” It was a simple phrase, and it was all Al-an offered.
This sparked a sense of anxiety within Robin - she wanted to hear how upset he was, how she made him feel, if he forgave her or not, she would’ve even preferred he’d taken the opportunity to air his grievances with her. But he didn’t. All he said was he understood.
It gave her an unsuppressable urge to continue, to ramble, to give him something to respond to. “I should have just let you take my clothes off and look at my injuries when this all started, then we wouldn’t be in this position. It’s just that it’s generally very important for us to maintain our, dignity? I guess?” Another moment of silence passed between them and it was clear Al-an wasn’t going to respond. Hastily, she added a question, “Don’t Architects have any of those social customs, things you shouldn’t do or show?”
Al-an glowed a soft green and she was relieved to obtain a discernible non-verbal response, much better than the silent lavender he had been shining since the Sanctuary. She was even more relieved to hear his voice when he spoke.
“Well,” Al-an began slowly, clearly eager to move past her apologies even if in only a slightly unrelated way, “yes, of course we do.” His tone begged her to inquire more and she was happy to comply.
“Like what?”
“As I have told you, many of our desires and actions are driven by the needs of the Collective. It is socially inappropriate to conduct ourselves in such a manner that misrepresents those needs - or directly opposes them.” Al-an clicked, something she was beginning to interpret as an expression of happiness (or at least neutrality). “This can range from large-scale transgressions to smaller ones. It would be impolite of me, for example, to communicate to a group of others using my actual voice as I am doing now. It would be expected of me to entwine my voice with the Collective in a way akin to your internal monologue.”
Robin was very interested. She’d always enjoyed learning about Architects and now seemed as good a time as any. “You guys sound kind of strict, then.”
“You could say that… yes.” Al-an concluded, slowly packing away the med kit he had forgotten about.
“It kind of sounds to me like everyone’s sort of expected to think the same thoughts.”
“I suppose that is a reasonable conclusion to draw.”
A gust of air draped over her as the air filtration in her base kicked on and she was suddenly acutely aware of her total lack of clothes. A blush quickly overcame her, the dimming of her feelings Al-an had previously placed on her slowly but surely fading. “Um, Al?”
“Yes, Robin?” It was almost mesmerizing to watch the way he elegantly clopped those hooves as he walked, returning from the far side of the room where he was placing the medical supplies he had just packed up.
“I’m still sort of naked. Do you mind getting me some clothes from the closet?” Robin pointed meekly in the vague direction of where she stored her clothes, tightening her legs and holding an arm over her chest once more.
“Oh!” Al-an exclaimed, sounding like he had literally just noticed it. He blinked over to her closet and in an instant was flipping through each shirt and pair of pants she had. “Any preferences?”
“Uh, I dunno.” Robin glanced at his rummaging, not that she could see any specific clothing items from this distance. “Something comfortable.”
Al-an blinked back over to her with a pajama set and underwear. “Is this sufficiently comfortable?”
Robin nodded, looking more at him than at the clothes he had picked. This felt so… intimate? There was suddenly such a thick blanket that hung over them (or maybe just her) of something heavy but not uncomfortable.
She didn’t say anything about Al-an having picked out a bra for her even though she didn’t actually wear a bra under her pajamas.
She didn’t say anything as he moved her over and kneeled behind her to help her put it over her breasts. She didn’t say anything when his claws groped her, a pace suspiciously slow, to make sure he’d positioned it correctly. Or when he (hesitantly?) pulled those claws away to finally clasp it.
She didn’t say even a word about how she was more than capable of dressing herself as he slipped her underwear on - not even when a turbulent part of her suddenly preferred she’d kept them off.
She wasn’t saying anything but her breathing betrayed her. If Al-an noticed, he kept silent as he finished slipping her pajamas on, still a pace so slow she could’ve sworn he was dragging it on on purpose.
And honestly, he was. A dark and mischievous part of him was still curious about how he could interact with her body - he’d never really seen or felt her, all he saw her as was that girl wearing the wetsuit, but that wasn’t her. If she insisted on this eternal connection with her corporeal form, he figured he has the right to be curious about it. He certainly wouldn’t admit the deeper motivations to himself, though. He was acting on scientific curiosity, nothing more.
His claws lingered over her sides, something that made Robin hold back a giggle, one nervous, almost as if he was about to tickle her. Of course, though, he didn’t.
She was disappointed when he retracted his grasp and took a step back.
“Does this continue to be sufficiently comfortable?” A question he wasn’t quite sure why he asked, but that just slipped out.
Some unreal exercise in self-control kept Robin from saying what she was really thinking, a simple no, actually, I think I was far more comfortable before, let’s get these clothes off and she just nodded with a dry swallow.
Strangely, Al-an was embarrassed to admit to himself he felt similar, and he didn’t know why. He suddenly wanted to move on and leave the room in order to stop himself from wanting to stay there and comply with those demands he couldn’t even hear but rather felt.
“I’m glad.” he responded in a way sounding perhaps a bit disappointed.
“Yeah,” Robin responded.
A moment of silence passed between them in which they just stared at each other. Then Al-an turned around.
“Goodnight, Robin.” Al-an said, facing the door. He blinked towards it, turned off the light, and blinked right out of her room.
So quickly had Robin been left there, staring at the spot in the doorway Al-an had just been, feeling things overwhelming and unidentifiable (or perhaps she was just denying what she thought those feelings were). She swallowed another dry swallow before laying down, trying to will her racing heart to still and the burn in her cheeks to cease.
It was gonna be a long night.