"oh-…i can move, you don’t have to sit on the floor"
"I prefered it." he answers simply, not bothering himself to explain anything more than that. His metal feet clanked against each other as he sat on the floor nearby the bed where you were laying, doodling nothings in your sketchbook — the thing you have made a habit to do when you’re hanging out in his quarters while he’s busy.
And you have never seen him this busy before. Hours standing still at his workbench, staring down the poor blueprints, then pacing through the room, his steps more calculated than the clock’s clicks. Nights follow days and the first sun rays always wake you up because there’s no curtains or anything that can make this place cozy at its bare minimum — except for the soft cushions and pillows and blankets on the bed which he has gathered only for you, only because you asked, only because you wanted to spend more time with him.
The bed was giant, clearly made for two, but there wasn’t a chance in the last few days for you to feel the familiar weight sliding closer in the dark of the night, spooning from behind so carefully, his hands gently finding their rest on your waist. Something was haunting him for too long now and you wouldn’t mind waiting for him, no, never have you, but you simply started to get worried about his state — and you’ve approached him with that but was gently turned back to your rest. You knew that he wasn’t going to listen to you anyway — but you also knew you couldn’t just let him be in this alone. So, you’re staying with him for a while. Even if he barely talks to you, he could never deny your company.
And now you’re relieved to see him sitting down nearby to meditate a bit — for the first time during this whole time. You move closer to him, hand gently sliding onto the broad shoulder.
"You should take a rest now, hun…"
"I truly don’t have much time for that." he grunts, though he knows you’re right. And the constant feeling of your attentive eyes was the actual reason why he actually forces himself to set aside his work and go take a breather. Even if he can’t actually breathe nor focus on the meditation itself.
"I…understand.." you reply reluctantly, fingertips brushing along his long collarbone pistons in a little affectionate way. He relaxes his schoulders slightly, subtly giving you more room to caress, and interwhines his hands together in the meditation gesture.
You continue to glide your hand against his metal, almost trying to calm down its unusual warmth — countless hours of mulling over his duties must have caused him to overheat. Mindlessly, your fingers wander further, over his ribbed chest and up to his neck, where they stumble upon the shiny ends of his cable hair. And that soft clank of them gives you an idea.
You sit on the bed, right behind him. An unusual angle — were his shoulders and back always this wide…and somehow heartening to look at? Like you could lean on it and feel the safest in the whole world… He sit on the floor and you still have to slightly raise your hands to carefully grasp his hair, moving it all back. You can feel him flinch just for a bit and you can’t help but smile at him being startled by such a simple touch.
"What are you doing?"
"I’ll just put them up for you," you say softly, shuffling through the thick cables in your hands, feeling their pleasant weight and quiet clanking. He almost scoffs at your offering.
"There’s no need for that-"
"Hush now." you insist, hands brushing through his cables length. "I know how it feels when they start to clutter around and piss you off. Just let me help you a lil’ bit."
And he modulates a sigh, returning to his meditating posture. That’s where you take things into your own hands — and with that, you start to work. Carefully combing his hair, then parting down the center, then starting to weave some cables together in the order only known to you. Your hands go slowly, taking strand by strand so carefully, like it would hurt him otherwise — and Ramattra can’t help but to concentrate only on your movements, feeling every subtle tug and twist you made with his cords, but oh with such care, it makes his circuits warm up…
"What are you planning to make?" he asks after a few minutes of pure silence and, suddenly, you can sense something new in his quiet tone. A hint of hesitation…but in a good way. Oh, it clicks for you immidiately and you can’t help but to chuckle softly.
"Just braids" you murmur, leaning in to give him a sweet little kiss on the top of his head. Such a simple tender gesture, yet it almost makes him falter.
"Braids?..." his head tilts in confusion — and you have to grab it by the sides gently and turn back up.
"Hey, stay still! They’re gonna look great on you, trust me…" your adorable reassurance doesn’t leave him another choice but to surrender. Though, he does find himself enjoying this whole unnesessary braiding thing…Your presence so close and your gentle little hands doing some magic with his hair, these bulky cables following your lead, not without some struggling first, but still. It’s you — you’re doing something for him. You’re here, by his side, all this time…It’s enough to finally let all these irritating thoughts begone. His mind fills with nothings, sweet nothings indeed: your hands playing around with his hair and your breathing quietly making the peaceful rythm of the moment. You are with him.
Is this…the tranquility Zen is always talking about?
He doesn’t realise how long you two were sitting like this. He simply doesn’t care now — everything seems to matter less and less the more you’re tangling your hands in his cables. But eventually, you make the final tugs and withdraw from him.
"Here you go.."
"Already?" he asks too quickly, with an undertone of longing. The moment dissapears so fast, no matter how hard he hopes it to last just a little longer.
"It took me nearly an hour!" you laugh at his question, hands running down your little piece of art. Two thick french braids go from the upper corners of his faceplate down along his head, slightly resembling dragon horns which reach up laying on his shoulders where your hands carefully move them. The weaving was quite simple but made so thoroughly the ends don’t even need something to tie them up — the rubbery texture and the tight neat braiding hold the cables together without any additional knots.
"Now, turn to me."
He slowly does so, feeling how the movements of his head became freer. It feels almost like getting your body part replaced. The same, but somehow still different. He doesn’t feel like he dislikes it, he just isn’t used to the sensation, doesn’t know where to place it within his system — but when he sees himself in the mirror you brought up to his face, he understands it immideately. Love.
Not with the braids, though he does like the way they look on him. He is in love with you. That unconditional, utter feeling which makes his circuits overheat and that electric pulse go haywire till the HUD flashes with a bunch of new warnings. That feeling he thought he never ever would be able to share with someone…
And there are you, looking at him fondly, while being so busy adjusting the way the cables twist around his faceplate.
"I-…" his voice stutters into a static — clearly from your sweet words — and he tilts his head slightly to admire your work. "I love it. Thank you, babe" his faceplate lowers to gently press against the crook of your neck, soft vibrations in omnicode expressing the whole of his feelings that he can’t quite place in words now, mimicking the tender kisses. And the way you slightly shy away from his touch, giggling and whining playfully that it’s ticklish — it only makes him fall for you even more, wrapping a hand around your waist and pulling you flush against his body in a tight embrace, letting himself nuzzle into your neck and get lost in your charming laugher.
A half an hour goes by unnoticed in the sweetest cuddles for the last week, accompanied by cute little pecks here and there, the soft sounds of your whispers, his quiet murmurs and the clanks of his cable braid’s ends when you playfully nudge him in the chest. Yet, suddenly, your eyes flash with an another idea and you pull away, leaving him puzzled and eager to just grab and move you back there for more cuddles.
"Now, you stay here." you lean against the wall and grab your sketchbook, opening it on the new page and biting down on your pencil, looking thoughtfully at your dear omnic, admiring the way confusion stirs within him.
"Why?"
"I need to capture your beauty" and you can hear him steaming from your words.
~~~~~~~
thank u for the idea, @statuetochka <з you make me feel so inspired with your art, hope this lil piece will make you smile
"Why are you even questioning this?" his voice was cold and unaffected, but you know he doesn’t mean to be so harsh with you. It’s just his usual state. You still feel like you’re interrupting him though…
"It is your birthday. You humans love your celebrations…sometimes even too much," he adds in a lower tone, scrolling for something in his holopad. "So why should no one care this time?"
You go quiet. The thought about you being the most annoying mopping goof floods your mind again. Second day straight. You know too well he has no intention to sound so cold. But two days with these anxious thoughts boiling up within your head…You don’t even have any strength left to pour him your whole heart out. Especially when he’s like this, all in accordance with his role. Right…You should not try to get in touch with him when he’s working. It’s not about personal, you’ve discussed it already — it’s just like his mind switches into the commander mode. And you’ve lost him till the dead of the night.
"Should’ve known better…" you think to yourself, standing up and leaving him alone. Maybe you’re just too tired. Exhausted, actually. Sleep would be great — especially the part when you can have your mind turned off.
You fall flat, huge pillow embracing your face, soft cool darkness soothing your heated watery eyes. You need to take a time-out of this endless thought onslaught. And you can. But right before your mind completely blurs to sleep, you hear him calling you from the other room.
"Where are you?"
"I’ll nap…a bit…" you only mumble in the dark, voice so small in this yearning silence. You know he heard you. You simply try to brush off new wave of trembling overthoughts and force your mind blank, letting the slumber consume you. You don’t want to mull it all over anymore.
The last thing that came to your mind was Ram as you hear some distant clicking of his vents opening in a sigh. Maybe it would have been much easier if you were an omnic like him, able to switch your dumb fucking anxious head off…That would be awesome, even for a bit…
You dissolve into the sweet oblivion of your dreams, now blank, peaceful. Perfect void for your disheartened heart to hide…
…that was until you got scared awake by the sudden noise of fire alarm. Annoying loud beeping was coming from the kitchen, where you immedeately rushed, almost falling because your socks slipped on the smooth floor tiles. You even felt your spine crack from how awkwardly you moved, catching your balance back — but the sight in front of you was worthy of that.
You arrived at the same moment his hand teared the fire alarm detector off the ceiling, crushing it to crunch straight away just to shut the damn thing. He moves frantically, aggressively even, as if this poor alarm could pose a danger to him and all his beloved ones.
Ramattra stands beside the stove awkwardly, oddly slouching and staring at you back silently. The whole scene was so chaotic and so sudden that it makes you both just freeze on the spot, taking a second to comprehend the what-tha-fuck moment. You blink sleepily, taking in the way he stands strangely in the middle of house equipment’s murder scene. He was never jealous of other machines that surround you daily…
Although his pose deceives him badly. Yes, of course it’s usual for him to lower his head like this indoors since he is too large for your cute little kitchen ( or better say, your cute litte kitchen is too small for his full-height posture ) — but right now you sense something off in the way he clumsily stand there, gripping the edge of the countertop, watching you intently with a hint of…guilt?
A deer in the headlights, a little boy who goofed around too much and is now trying to escape getting grounded, quickly eliminating all the evidence of his goofball deeds — that’s what you see in the kitchen instead of your lovely ravager boy. This confounded pose and the way he don’t know where to look to escape your shoked gaze, letting the awfully long foolish pause give him away even more…it’s so obvious that he’s hiding something from you, it makes him sick with embarrassment.
And the more he tries to cover it up, the more it makes your lips curl into a silly smirk. You already know what’s going on — but the view…is charming.
"What?…" was all you can mutter carefully, tone already mischievous.
"Nothing." even his own vocaliser deceives him, pure confusion is evident in his tone. He can only thank the Iris that his faceplate can’t blush, otherwise he would be all red at the moment.
"Why?" your cheeks start to hurt from how big of a smile you have as you point at the poor fire alarm debris in his fist.
"It…it could have waked you up. It did." he objects, though knowing that his arguments sound lame.
"It was doing its job!" you chuckle "It’s the least it could do since big boy commander can’t deal with some mundane human cooking…" you taunt and he lowers his head in shame. He had no time to get rid of the smell of burned food before you rushed over…
You can’t resist this adorable goof. Giggling heartedly, you gesture him to move out of the way. He hesitated for a moment, before he slowly steps to the side, letting you to the stove. There it is — a whole pan of veggies and burned down tomato sause, seasoned with your favourite herbs. All burned, too. You hear his back vents clicking open as he watches you examining the remains of what meant to be your own specialty pasta…
But oh, how his circuitry melts when he’s met with your smile, pure joy shining in your sleepy eyes despite the meal being totally ruined. He freezes, afraid to scare off the moment, finding himself forgetting how to pronounce words. Instead he just stares at you, hoping you’ll read straight from his eyes all the things his soul speaks but his vocaliser can’t yet. At the back of his mind, he sometimes wishes he could have the same deep, gorgeous eyes, just like you, as a human, have…Eyes that can talk louder than any voice or gesture or body language could muster. That would be wonderful, just a bit of this charm any human was born with…
"You sweetheart…" you murmur, gently leaning on him, hugging, snuggling, feeling how his hands wrap around your whole body in his big bear’s embrace, incredibly soft and careful for a creature of steel…your head cradled against his chest and he is nuzzling your hair from up above, planting a silent omnicode kiss.
"You remembered my pasta…"
"Of course I have…I wanted to make you your favourite"
"You remembered my comfort food recipe…to make it for me…"
"… and I burnt the whole meal."
"You! remembered!! and wanted to make!!! for me!!!! and almost cooked!!!!!" you laugh and it fills him with the warmth he has never known.
Perhaps, this is what home feels like…
"So…you’re not mad? Even though I totally screwed it up?"
"Not at all, hun. But I would if we won’t cook it together now." your mischievous smirk is making him thank the Iris again for not being able to blush.
He is enamoured.
~~~~~~~
@statuetochka, @t3chborb silly Rama food is ready!!! fluff flavoured, because my birthday is coming next wednesday, anxiety is getting me and Rama is my babe therapy
