Three drones sat on a couch. A recent acquisition—back when V tried to decorate on that first naïve year after landing, J had shredded her furnishings, lectured her on distractions from their mission; disassembly drones had no time for softness.
Then last month, when that purple thing complained about having nowhere to sit, J gave the order to find and drag seating arrangements all the back to the spire. She’d rattled off criterion V barely understood—deep seat, double chaise, microfiber upholstery—and then refused the first one they found, forcing her and N to double back again for another one.
Anything for her fucking favorite, V thought. At least she had somewhere to kick back now. And that wasn’t even the only new comfort. That toaster had found an old television then spent a day or two tinkering with its guts (metaphorical guts—and not even the fun kind of artificial analog).
When finished, she loaded up on old shows. V had overheard enough conversations to know the purple thing would talk the receiver off anyone who would listen (i.e. not her) about old human cartoons like this. Now they could see what the fuss was about.
This latest one was about some kid who wanted to be king of the ninjas. And honestly? Kinda kicks ass.
If only she could focus on the throwing knives and ninja spells.
After all, there were three drones on the couch.
Space wasn’t an issue. Double chaise meant this thing was huge (so dragging it halfway across the city was a pain). In fact, V even had most of it all to herself right now.
Because the other two were on top of each other, the purple thing curled up on J’s lap.
Three whole cushions between V and them and it still wasn’t enough distance.
J’s tail looped around the toaster’s legs, binding them together, while her hips slowly, rhythmically grinded forward. Serving no purpose but to make metallic hissing and clinking noises, interruptting the show’s dialogue. V didn’t care so much about all the yapping, but she’d rather listen to those cheesy speeches than this.
J’s arm had long ago slipped under the worker’s shirt, probably fingering the edges of her core. One of the worker’s hands had followed it in, and the flutter of fabric suggested they’d gotten up to something. The worker’s other hand trailed down, grabbing J’s thigh, creeping under her skirt.
The thing’s screen was a mess of hazy purple, eyes lidded and blush maxed out. The watching yellow eyes above were focused, intent, hungry. J’s other hand hovered around the thing’s face, at times caressing, at times suckled by drooling lips. The captain murmured some nonsense and the toaster smiled, nodding. The free hand rose up and cradled the head now, fingers running through locks of violet, scratching or petting.
And the thing fucking moaned.
“Gross!”
Purple eyes snapped open. “V! We were having a moment, c’mon.”
“Have it by yourselves. I didn’t come here to watch your weird cuddlefucking.”
Uzi crossed her arms. “Seems like you found it more interesting than the show.”
“Nah, my instincts just think my squadmate has a helpless meal trapped in her claws. And she does, but the only thing she’s killing is her self-respect.”
“That’s enough, V. Can it. Or do I need to write you up for harassment?”
“Oh, but you get free rein to harass my eyes with your—”
“I said can it.”
“What happened to keeping things professional, J?”
J looked away. Huffed. “I see no issue with bonding exercises to welcome Uzi into the fold.”
Yeah, you’d definitely welcome her into your folds, if you had any. Gagging at the intrusive mental image, V just rolled her eys. “So that’s what we’re calling it.”
“Unlike you, I’m striving to create a supportive environment for our new intern.”
And where was that support when I was— No. A deep breath. I’m over it. It’s been years. I’m over it.
She said, “Intern, huh? No, I don’t thinks so.”
J raised an eyebrow. “You don’t think so?”
V smirked with teeth, glancing between the two. “More like your pet.”
Uzi jerked forward, quickly enough she might have fallen off if not held by J. “I am not a pet. Right, J?” She looked at J, and the way the thing’s lips curled said it all.
“Got her trained well, eh J?” V grinned.
J glared, but her intern spoke first.
“I’m not trained, I’m my own person.”
“Nah, you pretend to be a person, but it’s obvious all you really are. It took what, a few headpats to turn you into a mewling kitten?”
“We were having a moment! It was special!”
“It was a few fingers scratching the right spot. I could do that, nothing special about it.”
“Oh yeah? Then prove it.”
“Gotta try harder to bait me into your kinks.”
“You literally just suggested it.”
“Didn’t like that defense when I bit you. Hypocrite.”
“Tsundere!”
J cleared her throat. “V, drop it. Uzi, she won’t be touching you.”
V just laughed. “What’s wrong? Worried I’m gonna steal your pet if she realizes she can get her kicks without the buzzwords or the stick in the ass?”
“She could never replace you, J,” Uzi said. “And V? Put up or shut up.”
“Fine. But don’t ask me to do it again.” With a show of relunctance, V crawled over the three couch cushions, eyes on J. Her boss kept a glare pointed back. Her gauntleted arms curled tighter around Uzi as V reached out.
Pat pat pat. V watched, and Uzi stared back blankly. V tried rubbing left and right, and Uzi arched a brow.
V tsked. “No fair. You’re just hiding your reaction.”
“How could I do that, if I’m just a, what was it, mewling kitty?” Uzi asked. “I don’t see why you’re surprised. I mean, it’s just a few fingers scratching, right? Nothing special.”
“So what was all that earlier?”
Instead of responding, Uzi looked up pleading. “J?”
When her boss looked away from the annoying subordinate, her gaze softened immediately. Her voice a soft whisper. “You want pets? Who’s my good little worker?”
Uzi wiggled her hips into her seat—J—and leaned back into that embrace. “I am~”
J brought her hand back to purple hair and let her fingers splay out then curled anew. Her other hand arrived to brush against the synthetic skin of her cheek.
Uzi sighed out, her lips curling into something indulgent.
“Oh hell no, I am not doing all that.”
Uzi looked at her. “Okay,” she said.
V growled and jumped back, flipping midair to land back in her spot on the couch. She got a good few minutes of staring at the screen before she had to glance over to see the latest display. Uzi hugged J’s larger arm. At its widest, J’s transmodular gauntlet was almost as thick as the worker. So tiny.
Focus on the show, V.
And so she did, watching the protagonist struggle to learn a powerful new technique. Then, to her surprise, she had a different distraction.
“Nature transformation, huh?” she mumbled.
“What is it now, V?”
“Funny coincidence, is all. They can make all the right handsigns, but if they don’t, what, add in the right ‘chakra’ nature then nothing happens, right?”
Uzi glanced at the screen for the first time in quite a while. “That’s, uh, about how I remember it, yeah.”
“Sound familiar? Guess I must’ve been missing some magic element, earlier. Probably something gross. Don’t tell me it’s love release.” She pronounced ‘love’ like some species of newt.
“It’s not like that. It’s… simpler? Like, if it’s a secret technique, well, what do you think it’s for?”
“Dunno, I just wanted to make you make stupid pet noises again.”
“And that’s kinda the problem. J knows that I like it and wanted to make me feel good. It’s the fact that she cares that makes it so—” as if to demonstrate, J hugged her and Uzi let out a long hum “—yeah. You, though? You try your hardest not to care about anything.”
V scoffed. “It’s how you stay sane around here.”
“Sure, but lonely too, yeah?” Uzi frowned, looking at V sitting as far away as she can get. “Do you want to feel what it’s like?”
“You can’t make me—”
Uzi put up her hands. “Not gonna make you. If you don’t wanna, it’s completely fine. I won’t push.” Uzi paused. “Though I did let you pet me, so I think it’s fair to get payback.”
Oh, that’s what she meant.
V narrowed her eyes, and uncrossed her arms enough to turn one hand into three claws. “Don’t forget I can stab you, though.”
“Don’t forget J knows how to make every second of disassembly painful.”
J brandished her own trio of claws. With her hand removed, Uzi climbed up and slowly approached V. J’s hand almost seemed to reach out after her, but consciously dropped back after a moment.
“We doing this?”
V shrugged. “Just so we’re even. Get it over with.”
“You’re a bit tall so…” Uzi stood atop the cushion (J sucked her teeth behind her), but it gave her height over the slouching V. The murder drone softly laughed at her under her breath.
V’s head was split by a handband stubbed with lemon-yellow orbs. “Watch the eyes,” V warned.
Uzi rolled her own. “I know.”
Her hand gentle touched the silver hair, and every joint in V went rigid.
“You good?” Uzi pulled her hand back.
V hissed. “I’m not scared. Nothing happened.”
“Okay,” she said. “Everything’s fine then?”
“Don’t patronize me. That wasn’t even a pat, you just barely touched my hair.”
“If you insist.” Uzi returned, descending with more pressure now. “It’s nice hair though. J’s hair grows sometimes, but yours is always so short. Do you cut it?”
V grunted. “It’s the only thing in the mirror I recognize.”
“That sucks.” Uzi gently scratched. “It is pretty distinct though. One of the things I look at a lot, since the three of you are such similar models.”
“Huh. Didn’t know you paid attention to anyone but your boss.”
Uzi rubbed deeper. V’s body had remained mostly still, but her head started minutely shifting, responding to the touch.
“I mean,” Uzi started, blushing. “I find J hot and since the three of you are so s—”
V’s leg snapped up whip-quick and kicked Uzi away. “Aaand you made it gross. Ugh. That was almost nice till you had to go on about wanting to stick your tongue in my mouth.”
“That’s not what I said even remotely!”
“I’ve seen what you and J get up to.”
Speaking of— the captain had already risen to a stand, a storm on her face, a gun pointed.
“It’s okay, J.”
“I saw what just happened. She hit you.”
At this angle, only V could see the devious smirk appear, just before she said, “I think it’s like when you try to pet a cat and it attacks your hand. They’re just playfighting.”
J lowered the gun. “Hmph.”
V had a knot of anger on her screen, looking down at Uzi, but sighed and it was gone. She knelt down and extended a hand to help Uzi up.
“Thanks,” Uzi said. “And thanks for letting me touch you. I know it wasn’t easy.”
“It’s whatever.” Then, “It did feel nice for a bit. I… don’t know why you care at all.”
“Because we’re a squad? It’s how you stay sane around here.”
V smiled, even if she rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say. Here,” she said, and reached out to scratch Uzi’s head.
And this time, the worker practically bounced into the hand, hips wiggling.
“Cute kitty you’ve got here, J,” V said. “We should keep her.”
And then Uzi growled and pounced and the two fell back on the couch laughing and swinging fists.
J took her eyes off that fight, sighed, and tried to focus on the show.