Bing is afraid of storms. He can’t survive rain, can’t survive a lightning strike. Not like the Googles can.
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Prompt 27: “What? You afraid of thunder or something?”
It was pouring outside. Raindrops battered the windows, so loud they seemed to drown out everything else.
But it was only rain. Bing could handle rain. As long as he didn’t go out in it, he’d be fine.
Thunder and lightning, however, were completely different.
As soon as the first lightning strike lit the sky up white, he was diving for cover, mind racing with all the things that could happen.
Like if lightning struck the facility, causing a power surge. What if he was charging when that happened?
Someone like Google would survive that, with his high-tech equipment and parts. Someone like Bing wouldn’t.
Not to mention if he got struck by lightning directly.
That wouldn’t happen, though. Not as long as he didn’t go outside. That’s what he told himself, at least.
Still, the thoughts of lightning and the loud, booming thunder and power surges that would fry his circuits drove him away from his charging station, every single time.
They did even now, as the red low battery icon flickered at the edge of his vision. Even as his speech and movements began to slow and his vision began to fizz out, he didn’t dare so much as look at it. He couldn’t.
Every flash of white sent his gaze flying to the window. Every rumble of thunder brought with it hot sparks of fear.
He wasn’t sure when Dark showed up. Whether he was at 18% or 8%. He’d long ago stopped paying attention to anything but the fuzzy static in his head and the wild hammering of rain against the roof and the searing panic in his core.
“Bing?” Dark’s voice sounded distorted. “I need you to assist me with- oh my. Are you alright?”
There were cold hands on his shoulders then, shaking him. All Bing could manage in response was a groan that sounded like a dying toy.
“Ah,” Dark said, and he gripped Bing tightly, began to drag him toward his charging station, “low battery. Let’s get you hooked up, shall we?”
“NooOOoo …” Bing struggled, coming back to consciousness as fresh, pounding fear filled him. “PoWWWww-er sur-rge. Li-i-iGGGHH-ghhtning.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Dark scoffed. “There hasn’t been a power surge. You’re fine.”
Another crack of thunder that seemed to shake the facility. Bing flinched.
A moment of silence. Then, “Bing? Are you afraid of storms?”
No. He wanted to say. No. I’m afraid of power surges that will fry me while I sleep. I’m afraid of my core exploding out of my chest.
Dark gave a sigh. “Do you have any other way to charge?”
Slowly, Bing managed to shake his head. He had no other way to charge besides his charging station. The Googles all had mobile chargers, but they had never given him one.
Another sigh. Like this half-conversation was tedious. Like it was a waste of his time. Still, Dark didn’t leave.
Instead, he bent and, with a grunt, picked Bing up, cradling him against his chest. “Come along.”
That was the last thing Bing heard, because then his battery died and he passed out, his head lolling against Dark’s shoulder.
Bing came online in a strangely familiar bed. The first thing he noticed was that he was hooked to a charger.
And it was still raining. And thundering.
He moved to sit up, to unhook himself from the charger before something terrible happened, but then there was a hand grabbing his arm, pulling him back down.
There was also a face, mere centimeters away from his.
Dark squinted and frowned against the light cast by Bing’s orange pupils. His voice was low and half-asleep when he spoke. “I see you are awake.”
He shifted, propped himself up on one elbow against the pillows, cut Bing off right as he opened his mouth. “I was very disappointed in the Googles for not supplying you with a mobile charger. You have one now. Don’t lose it, because I won’t be getting you another one.”
A mobile charger. Small and efficient. Not like the clunky, stationary one he had. It wouldn’t surge. Wouldn’t kill him if he needed to charge during a storm.
Bing looked away. He couldn’t help but tear up.
A hand cupped his cheek, tilted his head, forcing him to make eye contact with Dark.
“You will not let your battery die again. Do you understand?” He asked slowly. “And you will come to me during storms.”
“Why do you care so much?” Maybe it was the fading echoes of fear in his systems that made him ask. Maybe it was because he actually felt safe here, in Dark’s bed. In his arms.
Maybe it was because the Googles had never cared. Nor had anyone else.
Something flickered in Dark’s eyes. Something that Bing couldn’t quite decipher.
The entity pressed ice-cold lips to Bing’s forehead. “Because you are mine. And I take care of what is mine.”
There was another flash of lightning, lighting up the bedroom. Another peal of thunder.
But this time, Bing didn’t flinch.
