Stressed- an AI x reader
A-35 x gender-neutral reader I’m not thrilled with how this one turned out, but I figured I might as well post it for y’all, because why not? A story where you yell at your AI boyfriend for being a gosh darn workaholic can’t be that bad, right?
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The outpost they sent you to was a dusty, dingy, backwater world. You were the only mechsuit assignment there, for one. All alone in your class. When you arrived, the team of wearied soldiers and scientists regained a spark of excitement in their eyes. A Radiant-class suit, they whispered among themselves as soon as you would turn the corner. Maybe things will pick up around this dump.
But they didn’t. In a week, you were just as bored as the rest of them. A backwater world with no action. Your assignment there had been not much more than a show of force and a morale boost. This world, far from any front, was about as protected as they came.
At first there were plenty of menial tasks. Things needed lifted and rearranged, so what better to do it than a suit? You and A-35 wrestled around loads of cargo and rearranged the storeroom. Then you went on to do the dangerous jobs- calibrating the weather sensors in deep sub-zero temperatures would be a risk for any of the ordinary folk. You, however, waded through the deep snow with little effort.
Each one was a job well done, even if it involved no actual combat. You and A-35 would write the report for your excursions together. He was a very good analyst, and you knew he could write the reports all on his own, but you liked to pitch in with your own thoughts and experiences, and he happily included them.
He found it odd. He thought that most humans would have wanted to get out of menial work, not throw themselves into it. But. . . there was no denying that he liked having your input.
Then the labor jobs ran out.
It wasn’t through the fault of anyone running the base. There were simply no more jobs to be done that required you to be in the suit. During the last march to the hangar, you debated whether or not to actually get out of the suit when they commanded you. You wanted to hang onto the murmurs of A-35 in your ear and the way that he held you.
It was only when A-35 assured you he would be fine that you got out.
It turns out, they did still have a valuable and important use for a Radiant-class suit: processing power. There was no doubt that A-35′s systems were state-of-the-art, and it would be wasteful to leave such a powerful computer sitting out in the hangar. You watched as the tech team tugged thick wires and plugged them into the interior of the suit.
They had to remove the helmet- your helmet -in order to make the connection. The cables snaking out from the empty shape of the suit made you feel strange, as if A-35′s insides were spilling out across the floor.
You had asked him if it hurt.
“Hardly. Although I am designed to be a more centralized unit, I’m just as capable being spread out amongst a larger system.” He had told you.
“Are they making you process things?” You asked again.
“Yes. It’s nothing more than menial calculations. I could do these while powered-down, easy.” He replied.
You were also called to work. Although your training was not being utilized, you were still an extra set of hands, and hands could work. You helped the rest of the personnel keep the base clean, cook the meals, wash the dishes, keep up with maintenance, etc. You almost felt like a recruit again.
You tried to make time to see A-35. You first came every night, but when he asked what you were doing here in the hangar instead of trying to befriend your bunkmates, you couldn’t help but withdraw. He did have a point.
Your cohorts were nice. There was Sarah, and Jason, and Latisha. They invited you to hang out after hours, and after A-35′s encouragement you began to take up their offers.
And so, every night slipped into every other night, and every other night slipped into twice a week, and twice a week. . .
When you two had first began, you had felt a real spark with A-35. It wasn’t just the thrill of getting the suit. It was getting in the suit with him. You began to have dreams about piloting, the feeling of the suit around your body, his voice a steady stream in your mind.
But now? Those dreams were fading. A-35 never reached out to you. Whenever you came to him, he always implied that you should be somewhere else. He spoke as if now you had become an inconvenience, choosing as little words as possible to make you go away.
You couldn’t get your mind off of it.
You sat on your bunk. Sarah was trying to show you her old movie collection and you were just nodding along.
After your last ‘mhmm’, Sarah turned to face you. “You alright?”
“No.” You admitted.
“That’s what I thought. What’s on your mind?”
You couldn’t say him. No, you couldn’t. You shook your head.
“Look, friend, you got to get your problems out of your head. Holding onto them only makes things worse.”
Sarah’s advice, you knew, was to try and make you fess up to whatever was on your mind, but instead it gave you a new feeling. You gave Sarah a half-hearted excuse and before you knew it your legs were carrying you to the hangar bay.
This bay was tiny, only able to house one or two suits, nothing like the glistening training bays. A-35 stood against the wall. It had been a full week since you talked. Last week he had spared only a few words.
“Hey.” You said.
There was no response at all.
“Hey, A-35?”
A pulse travelled through a cable, but it headed outwards, to the wall, rather than back into the suit. Still there was only silence.
“A-35.” You raised your voice. “It’s me. Y/n.”
“. . . y/n?”
His voice was slurred, with a hiss of underlying static. It sent a cold shiver through you. You practically ran forwards to the pilot entry ladder. Before you could climb it, the suit’s external lights came back to life and its frame became more rigid, or maybe that was just a trick of the light.
“Hello, y/n. Progress is moving smoothly. Nothing to run but more numbers. What are you doing here?” His usual, smooth tone returned.
“Are you okay?” You asked.
“Yes. Just running the process. Nothing of any note. Nothing much to say.”
There he went again, the polite refrain of please go away. But this time you wouldn’t. This time you needed to stay.
“What’s going on? You’re not acting like yourself.” You bit your lip and stood your ground.
“I am running at functional capacity-” a series of pulses came up the cables and traveled into his systems.
You reached out to the cable.
“Receiving next data set, do not disconnect.” He said sternly.
His voice was becoming more monotone with every word. You took your hand off the cable, and instead extended it to his plating.
“Wait! Y/n, don’t!”
You let out a cry and jerked your hand away. The metal was hot, and your palm was now an angry red. But you did not spend time to blow on it. You could only look up at him in horror.
“You’re overheating.” You realized
“Current suit temperature: too warm for pilot comfort.” He stated in a rigid cadence, before adding. “Please go, I’m busy.”
“Like hell you’re just ‘busy’! You’re straining your systems!” You countered.
“I’m busy!” He shouted.
“A-35, pilot override: stop your calculations NOW!”
The words were bitter in your mouth. You had told him that you would never need to use the pilot override. The two of you were a unit- two halves of the same whole. You had put full trust in his judgement. Now, though. . .
A flurry of pulses came swarming out of his frame through the cables, random in pattern, disappearing back into the wall. The suit itself shuddered with the expulsion of the data.
You wanted to put your hand on his frame to steady him, and it hurt that you couldn’t.
“There. You happy now?” He asked.
His voice returned. No more was the stiff modulation. Now, his aggravation spilled through the air, injected with all of the personality you had so dearly missed.
“You told me they were only light calculations.” You said.
“The science team needed more. So?” He replied.
“You could have hurt yourself.”
“’Hurt’ is a word with a very tricky meaning. It applies better to humans-”
“How long have you been running like that?”
He paused. “Only a few days.”
“A few days? A few days!” You balled your fists.
“I was doing fine. I was fulfilling my duty on this mission.” He replied.
“If this was your duty, then I should have paid more attention to what they were using for.” You began to pace around.
“I took on the extra work.” He admitted quietly. “The team needed the help. I knew I could get it done faster than any of them could.”
“You could have burnt yourself out. Literally.” You said.
“The risk was low enough-”
“There was risk!”
“No different than combat risk.” He finished.
“Then why did you do it?”
“I’m designed for taking risks. I’m a combat AI. What do you expect?” He grew angry again.
“Then why didn’t you think about how it would affect me?” You shouted.
The suit shuddered again. You reached your hand out and brushed his plating. It was still warm, but no longer burning. You pressed your hand against it.
“You weren’t. . .” he began. “You weren’t a part of the equation. You weren’t involved in this operation at all. I’m afraid I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”
“I’ve missed you.” You pulled yourself to him and pressed your forehead against his plating.
“I never left.”
“No, but you weren’t here.” You whispered.
“I-”
He stopped. You could almost feel the electricity of his artificial synapses snapping together in realization.
“. . . I suppose I wasn’t.” He murmured.
You pulled yourself away from his frame and climbed the pilot ladder. The platform at the top was a bit of a mess of wires and diagnostic tech, but you found a spot and sat down anyway.
“It’s okay.” You said, wrapping your arms around your knees.
From here you could see the crystal glow of his interior. You couldn’t enter, not right now, not with all of the wires and cables hooked up. But just the sight was good enough.
“. . . I don’t get what I did to deserve you.” A-35 mumbled.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked.
“You’re so thoughtful and kind. I don’t understand it.” He said.
“Maybe,” you smiled, “it’s because you’re worth it.”
“Even when I’m snappy and foolish and generally unpleasant?”
“Then it means I need to remind you to take a break.”
“Oh, perhaps.”
You both laughed a little. You leaned against his frame and closed your eyes. You could feel his warmth and electricity in the air, something you had been missing for some time.
