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“You don’t have to do this, you know.” Sun fidgets with the ribbon around his wrist nervously. From his position on the floor, legs stretched out in front of him, his body language screamed “uncomfortable.”
“Sun, the last time I had to clean the glitter out of your chest I could barely get around the wires. It’s not safe to leave them tangled up like that.” You sat down on your knees in front of him on the floor of the closed daycare . You pulled out the supplies you purchased for this project: a bag of plastic cable ties and a small pair of scissors. You couldn’t use the scissors in the daycare since they were child-safe scissors.
Sun eyed the items warily. “Our wires have always been like this and it’s never caused any problems. Why fuss? We don’t want to put you out, Sunshine. Wouldn’t you rather do something more fun?”
You rolled your eyes up at him and scooted closer, not missing the way he slightly angled farther away from you. He hesitantly pulled his gaze from the zip ties and looked down at you imploringly.
“You are usually so worried about cleanliness and organization, Sunny. I would have thought you’d be excited for some proper cable management.” You catch Sun glance away toward the closest play structure and you wonder vaguely if he would try to scamper away and hide like a dog threatened with a bath. “I’ve done small maintenance things for you before. You can trust me, this won’t be much different. I want to do this for you.”
Despite having no need to breathe, Sun heaves a dramatic sigh. “We know, it’s just…” Sun’s fidgeting stills for a moment. He still hasn’t looked back at you. “…it’s uncomfortable to have our wires touched.”
You reach out and put your hand on his arm and he looks back at you. Due to the limitations of his face plate he cannot emote clearly, but his hunched shoulders and downward tilted head suggest he’s feeling embarrassment along with his discomfort.
“Same rules will apply as the last time we did maintenance. We can stay here instead of going to Parts and Service. You can move around as much as you need to, and you can talk if it makes you feel better. I’ll be focused on your wires so I don’t mess anything up, but if you say ‘Time Out’ I’ll hear you and stop until you’re ready. I want to do this for you, but you have to tell me if anything hurts or gets too uncomfortable, okay?”
Sun nods as he plucks the package of zip ties from your hand. He turns it over, his faceplate twisting one direction then the other. “We trust you, Sunshine. What are you going to do, exactly?”
Sun crossed his legs around you as you settled down in front of him. It’s the same position you both take when you give him his weekly cleaning. Last week you finally talked him into letting you check behind his chest plate, and you were shocked by the sheer amount of glitter that coated the space inside him. There was also a dangerous amount of dust collected around his cooling system fan that took a lot of time (and compressed air) to clear away.
The state of his wires was the most shocking part, though. There was no organization at all. You saw wires crossing and tangled in every direction. Wires that seemed to lead down further into his body were crossed around by wires that lead to his arms. It seemed like years of quick fixes by careless technicians had resulted in the tangle of wires that was the inside of your friend.
“Your wires are tangled pretty badly, so I’m going to sort through them. I’m going to try to keep wires grouped together depending on function; all wires for your right arm together as well as the left, wires that lead to your head, things like that. And to make sure they don’t tangle back up, I’m going to use these cable ties to hold them together in place. But don’t worry, I won’t tie it so tightly that it hurts or anything. Just enough to hold them in place. That way you don’t run the risk of disconnecting anything next time you do a handstand.”
“A-and the scissors?” Sun asked quietly, a stark contrast to his usual loud and boisterous voice.
You reached up and straightened the ruffle around his neck. “Those are just to cut off the excess cable tie ends. I won’t cut any wires, I promise.”
Sun bonked his faceplate against the top of your head with a defeated noise. “Okay, Sunshine. We’ll let you take care of it. Just…please be gentle.”
You smile up at him as you move your hands up against his chest, ready to press the buttons in the proper order to open his chest plate. “Don’t worry, I’ll go nice and slow.”
You pressed the buttons in, but before you could pull back to open the compartment, Sun’s hands flew up and grabbed your wrists, holding your hands in place. His grip isn’t hard, but it’s enough to hold you still. You look up at him. His faceplate is tilted down, and the shadow casted on his face makes it easier to see his pupils, white against the off-white of his eyes, and they are staring at your hands pushing in the buttons of his chest.
You start to say something, but his pupils flash up and look you in the eyes. His hands relax slightly, and move down to your wrists, arms, sides, before settling on holding your waist. It’s not an uncommon position; he prefers to have something to hold onto while you clean him as well.
You pull back, and the mechanism that holds his chest plate closed makes a few clicks before the thin metal slides aside and reveals the machinery inside along with the tangled mess of wires.
“Okay. I guess there’s no better way than to just...begin. Are you ready?” You ask, noting the way Sun’s grip on your waist tightens very gently when you ask.
“We’re ready.” Sun says gently. His voice has a different sound to it, now that his chest is opened. His voice speaker is located somewhere in here, but you can’t see it past the wires.
You see a small group of green wires that seem to originate around his right arm and run into a small box near the back of his exoskeleton. It seems like a simple enough place to start. You reach in slowly and grasp the green wires, gently collecting them together and straightening them.
As soon as your fingers make contact, Sun makes a sound like a sharp inhale, but doesn't say anything yet. You continue working, lining up the wires. Finally content with their positioning, you reach for the cable ties you brought. They are relatively thin, and the packaging assures you they are resistant to high temperatures (because you weren’t sure if their insides got hot enough to melt the thin plastic ties, and decided to play it safe).
You select a tie and use both hands to position it around the bundle of wires. The general mess of wires and cramped working space means as you move, your hands and fingers brush against surrounding wires as you work.
Sun continues to sit quietly and still, a stark difference to his usual swaying, fidgeting, and non-stop chatter. You figure as the work continues he will relax and get more comfortable, so you endure the silence.
You insert the tail-end of the cable tie into the head and pull it tight around the straightened wires.
You feel Sun’s hands around your waist suddenly tighten as he whines, the sound coming from deep in his opened chest.
You pull back. “Are you okay? Does it hurt?”
Sun gently lowers his faceplate to rest on your shoulder as his hands relax (but not as relaxed as before). “W-we’re okay, okay. No pain. Just…startled us a little.”
You pat the sun ray closest to you sympathetically. “I’m sorry, Sunny. Try to relax a little. Tell me about your day?” You offer. Sun typically chatters about his day during cleanings and maintenance, he told you once that it helps him relax.
Sun hesitates, then starts telling you about that day’s events in the daycare, only stuttering in the beginning. You sit and listen for a few minutes, nodding as he tells you about the various kids and activities that began his day.
When Sun talks about his day, he goes over it in chronological order and high detail. For him, he is recounting his day exactly as it happened in his memory. For you, it’s hard to listen with full attention to every minor detail. You can’t help but space out as you resume working. You are aware of him speaking and you’re always listening for his safe word, “Time Out,” signaling you to stop immediately. With his chatter in the background, you reach back in to continue.
The first bundle of wires was simple: they were relatively close together, all the same color, and you could see plainly where they began and ended. Unfortunately it didn’t seem the rest were going to be that straightforward.
You run your fingers gently along the next closest wire, a thicker yellow one, and find that it ran from his cooling system to somewhere near his neck. You sort through the surrounding wires, collecting the ones that run the same way. You card through them with your fingertips, running your fingers along them to track how they run, and move them into your palm to collect them together.
Sun must be feeling more comfortable, as now along with his chatter droning in the background, you feel him start to fidget like usual. His fingers tighten and loosen where they are placed above your hips and he squirms in place. You sympathize with him; it must be difficult for such a high energy animatronic to sit still for this long.
You finally collect the last of the wires that run similarly to the yellow wire, so you reach down and grab another zip tie. When you bring it up and around the wires, Sun’s movement stops, his hands holding steady on your sides, his chatter stuttering to a halt. You imagine tightening the zip tie must be unpleasant for him to react this way.
You don’t want to make him more uncomfortable than he already is, so you tighten this cable tie more slowly, letting the wires bind together securely.
The zip tie clicks slowly as the end of it passes through the teeth, and you guess the jittering sensation must be felt by him, because as you tighten it to its final position, Sun’s whole body shudders. He lets out another weak whine, longer this time.
You move the bundle aside with the other one and start planning your next move. You see a few wires that come from his left arm and run down into some hardware near the bottom of the chest cavity, so you begin sorting through the tangle to pull all similarly running wires together. These wires are longer than the last few you were working with, so it takes more time of you pinching the wires and running your fingers down them to track their pattern. You go slowly, careful not to jostle anything too much.
Sun seems to have finished describing his day, and has now taken to mumbling to himself. Again, not uncommon for him to do as a self-soothing behavior when he is uncomfortable, so you pay it no mind.
As you are collecting wires in your palm, you start tracking a black wire. You don’t realize until too late that this wire is looped under and around itself, resulting in it being pulled more taut than the previous wires. It is behind a large mass, so you don’t have a good visual on it. When you pinch it and run your fingers along it, it pulls against itself; just once, gently, accidentally, you tug the wire.
You freeze as Sun reacts.
His hands tighten against your hips, clenching the fabric of your shirt and pulling it tight towards himself. His legs, which are crossed around you, tense, his knees raising up alongside you. His torso angles forward as his faceplate lands back on your shoulder. Sun has curled his body around you, and he groans, the sound loud with his body this close to you.
You pull your hands out of him and wrap them around his torso in what you hope is a calming hug. “I am so sorry, Sunny! That sounded like it hurt, are you okay?”
Sun slowly lets his body relax, his hands releasing your shirt and sliding up and around you to return your embrace. His shoulders slump, but he keeps his face on your shoulder.
“Okay, we’re okay. K-keep going.” His voice is quiet, reserved. You hug him tighter.
“I’m not going to keep going if it’s this bad for you, Sunny. I don’t want to hurt you!” You rub soothing circles along his back.
“P-please don’t stop, Sunshine. We want you to finish. You’re not hurting us. Don’t stop.” Sun’s hands move back to your hips and give you a gentle, comforting squeeze. “We will call for “Time Out” if we want you to stop.”
You feel conflicted, but after a few moments you nod and reach back up to his chest cavity. Sun knows how to stop you if he really wants you to stop, so you keep going.
You carefully move back to the twisted black wire. You use both hands to gently coax it into being straight, grabbing and tugging it as gently as you can.
Sun makes a sound like a shaky exhale, but he doesn’t stop you. Somewhere in his chest you hear the purr of a cooling fan turning on. You wonder again about the temperature of the space in his chest, but discard it as a question for later.
You finally get the black wire untangled from around itself, and move it alongside the other wires you previously collected. With it no longer being twisted up, it has slack in it again; it won’t be tugging anymore with any small movement. You place a zip tie around the wires and slowly tighten it around them. Sun lets out another breathy whine, ending it with a brief hum.
Now that there are three wire bundles cable-tied, you notice the excess tail ends of the ties stick out in such a way that it gets in your way. The space is small, and they keep catching against your hands and fingers. You reach down for the small scissors you brought with you.
Sun still has his head on your shoulder, his faceplate against your neck, so he doesn’t see the scissors you bring into his chest. You want to make sure there isn’t any excess zip tie end to catch on any wires, so you bring the scissors close against the bundle of wires.
As soon as the cold metal of the blades make contact with the wires, Sun’s head shoots up. “W-wait wait WAIT, Sunshine, please be careful with those they are NOT daycare-approved safety scissors you could hurt somebody with those you could hurt yourself with those youcouldhurtuswiththosepleasebecareful-“
You pull back and raise your hands up. “Okay, Sunny, okay. I’m sorry, I should have given you a heads up. I’m not going to hurt myself or you with the scissors. I’m just going to cut the cable ties, that’s it. I don’t want the plastic ends to irritate you. I won’t do anything until you’re ready.”
Sun’s pupils dart from you to the scissors a few times. He hesitates a few moments before speaking. “You’re JUST going to cut the plastic ties?”
“Yeah, Sunny, just the plastic ends. I promise I’ll be very careful. I won’t hurt any wires in there.”
Sun slowly sinks his head back to your shoulder, pressing his face back against your neck. His fingers tighten against your hips again. “Okay, we’re ready.” You can feel the tension in his body.
You bring the scissors back to the zip tie. Sun makes a sound like a sharp inhale when the cold metal touches his wires again. His hands press harder against your hips.
Squeezing the handles of the scissors, you cut the end off of the zip tie. The scissors make a “snip” sound as the blades cut the plastic; the small sound is loud in the surrounding silence. When the scissors cut down, Sun whimpers.
You don’t want to hesitate and prolong this part any longer, so you reach over and cut the other two sections, both times eliciting similar reactions from Sun.
You feel terribly about Sun’s discomfort. You replace the scissors back on the floor mat and decide to let Sun take a momentary breather. You reach up and run your fingers along Sun’s rays. They had previously been pulled in, so as not to poke you while his head rested against you. The rays extend slowly as you pet them. “You are doing so well, Sunny. You’re being very good for me.”
Sun groans against you as he pulls you closer to him. His fingers grip your shirt again as his face presses harder against your neck. You rub his rays soothingly, hoping this helps in some small way.
You both sit like this for a few minutes, Sun slowly relaxing against you. Finally, Sun nods against you, relaxing his grip on your shirt. You reach back up to continue, eager to get this done for him.
You have cleared up a decent amount of space in his chest, so it is easier to work now, though your hands still brush accidentally against neighboring wires. Your fingers trace and card through the tangles before bundling up and tying a few more bundles. You mumble “scissors” before you cut off the zip tie ends to give him a heads up, but other than that you work quietly, listening to his mumbling whimpers and whines for any sign of his safe word.
As the wires clear, something makes itself evident to you that makes your stomach drop.
In the mass of wires, you see a thick red wire that runs pretty long in the cavity. You can tell by its many twists and turns that it had been previously worked on several times by the Parts and Service technicians. The problem is that the wire is twisted around and through so many other wires that there is no way to maneuver it into a straight and untangled way. You have traced it multiple times, pushing past other wires, but there isn’t any way to untangle it.
You are not a Parts and Service technician, but you have done your fair share of simple fixes and maintenance on the daycare attendant to know that this marvel of machinery that is your best friend is made to be easy to repair on the hardware side. Things are typically color coded and labeled (not clearly, mind you, but a quick flip through the label manuals usually clears things up).
You can trace the red wire from origin to end and see where its plug connects, the ends of the wire ending in connectors that remind you of old Ethernet plugs. It seems the simple fix here would be to disconnect one end of the wire, pull it free from the other wires, and plug it back in.
You had a distinct feeling, however, that it would not be that simple to explain to Sun.
You bundle up a few more wires before the red wire impedes any more progress. You remove your hands and turn your head over toward Sun, his face still resting on your shoulder.
“Sunny, we have a small problem.”
His pupils shoot to your face, your hands, his chest, and back again to your face. “What? What’s the m-matter, Sunshine?” His voice trembles slightly enough, that someone who didn’t know him like you probably wouldn’t even notice.
You reach around and rub his back as you explain the difficulty with the red wire. He listens silently, not interrupting or panicking like you thought he would. You suggest unplugging the wire, untangling it, and plugging it back in. You wait for him to deny the idea outright, figuring there is no way he agrees to this level of discomfort; you have helped him with small maintenance, but nothing like this before.
You wait, the suggestion hanging in the air. Sun still looks at you, but his focus is past you; it’s like he is eavesdropping on another conversation. As you wait, still rubbing circles on his back, you hear another cooling fan click on and whir to life. It must be hard for him to decide if he trusts you to do this, you figure. You’re glad he is at least considering the idea instead of shooting it down immediately like you assumed he would.
Finally Sun’s unfocused look snaps back to you. You can still see his pupils as his faceplate is still shaded from the angle he lays it on your shoulder; he glances briefly to your lips, then back to your eyes.
“We trust you, Sunshine. You can take care of it.” Sun’s voice is barely a whisper. You feel touched by the show of trust.
“I’ll be careful and as quick as I can, okay?” You reach back to his chest.
Sun nods, pressing his faceplate back into your neck. His grip on your hips tightens.
You trace the red wire down to the connection, pinch the small retaining latch, and gently tug the wire loose. You have to wiggle it a few times before it disconnects fully.
Sun makes a small “Ah-“ when you grip the wire end, and his whole body shudders against you when the wire comes unplugged. He lets out a short low whine.
You hesitate, giving him a moment to acclimate (as well as making sure you didn’t just disconnect something critical). Sun remains still, and nothing explodes, so you begin unraveling.
The gentle hum of another cooling fan starts up as you twist the wire out of the snags. You hadn’t noticed it previously, but the small space was warmer than when you began.
The red wire was finally freed after some gentle coaxing. You maneuver the end of the wire back to the connection and pause. You murmur “plugging it back in now” so Sun knows to expect it. You feel his body tense around you further, his hands tightening more on your hips; it isn’t tight enough to hurt, but it is the tightest he has ever held you.
Gently, you slide the wire back into place, hearing a small “click” as it slides home.
Suddenly everything shifts.
The grip on your hips tightens painfully for just a moment before it’s corrected, clenching the fabric of your shirt instead again; you are yanked forward against Sun’s body. His sun rays dart out, not quite enough to poke you, but enough to get your attention. He cants his shoulders forward, hunching over you as his legs tense up again, squeezing around you; Sun is curled around your body again. You are held against him, your cheek pressed against the ruffles around his neck, your ear close to the gaping hole of his chest. Loud, right against your ear, Sun moans.
Time slows for a moment. You consider a few things all at once in the static moment. Your relationship with the daycare attendant has always been a happy one. He has always been a bit handsy, but you figured it came with the territory. The pet names (“Sunshine” and, more rarely, “Starlight”) seemed perfectly normal for a robot whose job it was to tag along with small children all day. The sounds he had been making up to this point were perfectly normal for someone in distress and physical discomfort.
…right?
Or maybe…maybe the daycare attendant touched you quite often, noticeably more than any of the other employees. Maybe it should have been obvious that they didn’t call any other employee (or child, for that matter) by those sweet, often softly-called pet names.
And maybe…just maybe…the soft whimpers and moans Sun had been making while you fingered around and through his insides were sounds of pleasure.
Maybe.
But you didn’t take much more time to consider these things any further than that. Instead, you turned your head to look at Sun, who is presently pressing his face against your neck and softly mumbling “T-t…ti…timmme ou…t-t-tiiii…”
You wait for him patiently, your ears ringing, for him to clearly call “Time Out” and end this…whatever it was. The stuttering starts and stops at odd intervals…rising and falling in pitch, but he never says it. Not fully. The fans whirr noisily in his chest.
You feel compelled to end the loop he seems stuck in. Softly, almost afraid of breaking the something that is lying tense in the air surrounding you, you say, “Sunny?”
His tilts his faceplate toward you and stares directly into your eyes. You are startled by the mismatched colors of his eyes; one eye is the usual eggshell white with stark white pupil, the other a deep OLED black, a trembling red pin-prick of a pupil staring straight past your eyes and directly into your fogged brain.
You hold still, waiting for a response. The stuttering attempts at calling “Time Out” have ceased. Sun eventually blinks a few times, and his eyes return to normal. This close, you can hear a faint, barely-there sound of lenses adjusting as Sun’s eyes dart from looking at one of your eyes to the other. The stillness is suffocating.
“Do it again. P-please, Sunshine.”
It’s like the room around you blinks out of existence. A breath hangs in the small amount of space between you. Sun stares at you just as you stare at him, both unsure and waiting at the edge of a yawning, dark, unknown precipice.
Then something just…clicks. And it’s like a non-existent cooling fan whirs to life inside of you. You feel your face burn, and suddenly the intense eye contact is smothering, so you look away, back toward the open chest in front of you. Sun hasn’t relaxed any of the tension in his body, and still has you held against him. He is still, quiet, so unlike his usual self.
You stare into the almost-organized opening of his chest, and imagine you see a heart resting in the back, nestled in amongst the bundles of wires you have gently, slowly, carefully organized and managed. You wonder if the heart, his heart, would be fluttering tissues and blood like your own, currently beating out an uneven staccato in your chest; or would it be clockwork, metal, clicking faintly like a music box that has reached the end of its song and is rotating, in the quiet/not quiet limbo of the space and time between the end and repeated beginning of the same song?
You imagine reaching in and gently brushing your fingertips along the warm blood vessels and shifting metal. And then you imagine reaching farther and grasping his chambers and motors in your hand, holding it securely.
Yeah. You’re going to do it again.
You don’t trust your voice not to fail, so you nod. Sun’s eyes widen and his eyes dart to your mouth again. You feel like you are losing your mind. Hesitantly, you lean forward, bridging the small gap between you. You press your lips against his smile, and Sun springs into motion.
His hands finally release your shirt, electing instead to wrap his arms around you and clench at the back of your shirt; you are still being pushed against him, your arms pinned between you. Sun eagerly pushes his faceplate against you, returning the kiss the best way he can. He hums against you, the sound vibrating against your chest. His rays undulate, pulling in and pushing out at random.
You pull away, turning back to his chest. Your face burns and you can’t find it in yourself to make eye contact with him again.
Sun grips your shirt tighter, but he allows you to pull back to free your hands. You aren’t sure if it’s your approval, the kiss, or the movement that does it, but the spell of quiet that was casted over Sun has broken. He ruts his faceplate enthusiastically against your neck again, his voice tumbling out of his chest laced with static.
“Oh, thank you thank you THANK YOU, Sunshine, our Star, so perfect, so beautiful, so good to us, so good for us, our Starshi-…SUNshine, takes such good care of us…”
On he mumbles praise and appreciation as you reach back into him. You don’t want to assume the next wire will be as simple (or as safe) as the red one, so you reach in and grip the connection end of the same red wire again.
When you make contact, you feel Sun’s body shudder again against you. You pinch the retention latch again and slowly pull the wire out again. He keens softly, but continues mumbling, “Pleeease, Sunshine, oh, please please PLEASE, a-again, Starshine, please please please please please-“
You don’t want to disappoint, so you line the wire connector back up to the port and slide it back in, stopping when you hear the “click” of the retention latch locking it back in place.
When Sun moans this time, he moans your name.
You don’t give yourself enough time to give that much thought. One of Sun’s hands releases the back of your shirt and slides up along the base of your neck. His fingers, being as large as his hands are, shakily card through your hair.
You mimic the motion, running your fingers through and along the wires that are not yet bound in your cable ties. You are seized by an idea, and pinch one of the wires between your fingers. Listening for his reaction, you give it a gentle tug.
Sun makes a noise like the breath was forced out of him, static popping in his speaker. You feel his hand go still and tense, and you are vaguely glad that he doesn’t tighten his hand in your hair like he is with your shirt.
Or…maybe you aren’t glad? Unsure and unwilling to chase that thought to a potentially embarrassing conclusion, you shove it from your mind for now. Better to ponder the intricacies of how exactly you feel about this later, perhaps when you don’t feel so feverish.
You catch a few wires between your fingers this time, and when you tug them you don’t release them after like the last one. You hold them taut in place to gauge his reaction.
Sun keens a high pitched whine, his hands tensing again, and it feels like he starts to claw his fingers at you but stops short.
You slowly release the few wires one by one until you only hold one taut. You trace it down to its connection point and, still pulling it tight, you reach the other hand to nudge the retention lever. This causes the wire to disconnect and pull quickly from where it ends, snapping up and away.
The sudden disconnection makes Sun jolt in place. His breathless babbling picks up in speed as his hand tenses around the back of your neck, squeezing, before he yanks it away, lowering it down to rest it on your thigh, his long fingers wrapping around it easily.
You shove shove SHOVE more thoughts away away away.
You claim the connection end of the unplugged wire and move to plug it back in. You watch for Sun’s reaction out of the corner of your eye as you slide it into place.
Suns eyes were unfocused, heavy-lidded; as soon as you slid the wire in place, the same eye as earlier blinks back to black, the red pin-prick pupil flitting erratically before landing on you along with Sun’s usual white pupil.
The breathy moan Sun makes is still laced with static, but it peaks once or twice with a deeper, scratchy undertone.
Then the hand around your thigh tightens, squeezing the flesh almost tight enough to be uncomfortable. The hand clutched tightly in the back of your shirt trembles. You freeze as the ruined voice of the animatronic stutters, “T-time Out.”
You snap to attention, removing your hands and holding them against yourself. You clear your throat before you say, “Sunny, what’s the matter? What did I do? Did I hurt you?”
The glowing red eyes dart down to your hands. “W-wrong port, port. Plugged it into the wrong port. One more to the left. Wrong v-voltage.”
His voice is still periodically interrupted by the deeper, scratchy cadence.
You glance down and see the issue. You were focused on watching Sun’s reaction and slid the wire into the wrong connection. Just like he said, it needed to move one port to the left.
“O-okay, I’m going to fix it. Hold on. I’m sorry.” The hand trembling at your back pets you idly, a silent forgiveness.
You pinch the connection again and move to slowly remove it from the offending port. When you wiggle it to free it, you see the flash of a small spark and hear the smallest “pop” as it disconnects. It reminds you of when you unplug an extension cord from a wall outlet.
The moan he makes is like it was punched from his gut. The same doubling up of voices along with static makes it grate out of his chest. He yanks the hand patting your back to your side and grabs you, gripping your side and thigh with the same almost-painful pressure. He lifts you, only lifting you a few inches, not even taking you off of the ground. It feels more like a reaction, him just needing to do something in the moment in response to the stimuli.
The hold he has on you brings you up and closer to him, and he straightens his faceplate to stare into your face, his white/red pupils quivering as he glances from eye to eye, down to your lips, down to your throat, down to the hands you removed from his chest when he started moving (you find it funny, distantly, as you remember the training videos that warned you about always keeping your hands free from any moving machinery).
He finally settles on looking you in the eyes. The static that was sounding from his voice box starts to settle, and you recognize the sound of cooling fans slowing down (you had failed to notice just how loud they had grown).
You are slowly lowered back to your previous position settled on your legs on the floor. He gazes at you a moment longer before speaking.
“K-keep going, don’t st-stop yet, please. We are almost finished.”
You feel your face burn hot, before realizing he means the cable management project is almost finished. And he is right; the disorganized tangle of his insides is mostly tamed, only about two more bundles to go before everything is nice and organized.
A final glance at his face shows two white eyes looking back. His voice returns to its normal register, though still popping with small bursts of static.
You grab the wire a final time and do not hesitate to slide it in place (“Suuunshiiiiine…”).
You feel slightly less confident having made that mistake. You worry what could have happened if you had plugged something important into the wrong port, resulting in more dangerous consequences. So you busy yourself sorting the last of the wires, deciding against unplugging anything else, for now.
Sun’s hands twitch and tighten around you as you finish up, moaning softly and mumbling praise as you shift and organize the bundles.
When you clip the final cable tie, you heave a sigh and pat him on the shoulder. “I think that’s everything, Sunny. Want to take a look?”
He raises his head from your shoulder sluggishly, peering down at you. He removes his hand from around your thigh and investigates the state of his chest cavity. His hand is too large to fit all the way in, so he cards just his fingers through the wire bundles.
“Oh sweet Sunshine, that’s much much MUCH better! Thank you so muuuch for taking care of us. So gentle, so sweet...”
He wraps his arms around you, sliding his chest plate back in place and pulling you against him. He sways back and forth, running his hands up your back and holding the back of your neck and head. He pushes his faceplate against your cheek and hums happily.
“Glad to help, Sunny. I-I’m sorry for the mess up. I hope I didn’t hurt you too badly.” You slide your hands past his shoulders and pet the backs of his sun rays.
He pauses, then giggles against you. “You certainly didn’t hurt anything in there, Sunshine. You didn’t have any access to critical wires, just a few that we can operate without or reroute internally. We don’t run quite as efficiently, but no major system interruptions. All of the critical wires are in here.” He lifts his hand to point as his head.
You lean your head forward to rest your cheek on his neck ruffle. You aren’t sure what to say, only knowing that you need to say something. “Sunny, we-“
“We don’t have to talk about it right now if you don’t want to.” Sun’s hand that was running up and down your back stills, his shoulders tensing.
Ah, so he is in the same boat you were.
You nod against him. His hands resume petting your hair and rubbing your back. He gently rubs his face against your cheek. You get the impression he would be content to hold you here for the foreseeable future. You certainly wouldn’t complain if he held you here, like this, all night.
Suddenly, you ask, “Hey, Sunny, what time is it?”
A few clicks sound from somewhere inside him as he stills. His swaying stops, and you hear him mumbling something like, “why didn’t you tell me?”
Then you are lifted, the hand in your hair moving down to support underneath you as he easily carries you over to the security desk.
“I cannot imagine how, but it seems we have lost track of time! You’ve worked so hard today, Sunshine, but it’s getting pretty late, dontcha think? Goodness, we only have about 15 minutes before it’s lights out!”
He sits you down on top of the desk and retrieves your belongings, reaching back behind it with his long arm. His other hand remains placed on top of your thigh. He packs away your things and dumps your backpack beside you before positioning himself in front of you again.
You feel a twist in your stomach at the prospect of leaving, feeling similar to leaving a coloring page unfinished, or words left unspoken. He is hesitating before you, his hand hovering, not sure how to proceed.
You help him by reaching up to him, and he bends down to your level. You slide your hands to the sides of his faceplate, and lean forward to him. Hesitantly, so he can pull away if he wants to, you press your lips to his smile again.
He shoots forward, pulling you to the edge of the desk by your thigh so he can press himself against you, your knees on either side of his waist. He presses his faceplate back gently, angling down toward you. His free hand cups the back of your head again.
He hums happily, making a sound like a sigh. You run your hands to the back of his faceplate, stopping short when you feel the plastic end and metal begin.
“C-careful, Sunshine. That’s the important wires we were t-talking about.”
You blindly feel around until your finger nudges against one. He whines again, his body shuddering, several fans kicking on at once deep in his machinery.
You are possessed by a need to touch.
“I won’t pull,” you whisper.
Hesitating, he rests his head on your shoulder, his hand tightening on your thigh.
You run your finger up the length of the wire and Sun groans. The sound is muffled now that his speaker is no longer exposed. You hear him pick back up his mumbling, which is also more difficult to hear.
You trace over the wire a few times, moving slowly. You shift to hold it between your thumb and index finger, barely applying any pressure. Sun’s whole body hitches when you run it between your fingers.
It’s hard to focus with Sun’s positioning against you, his trembling hands clenching on your thigh and neck, his squirming body pressed against your front. You put your free hand on the cheek of his faceplate, holding him, hoping it grounds him in some way. He presses back against your hand, making a small shaky moan.
Then you apply more pressure, pinching the wire between your fingers. Sun ruts up against you, seeming to need more contact. You rub your thumb under his eye, and he whimpers.
With the wire pinched between your fingers, you start pinching with more pressure, holding your hand steady so as to not jerk the wire loose. As you increase the pressure, Sun squirms more, pressing against you more frantically. His grip on you has tightened to almost hurting, but you barely even register the feeling. You are to preoccupied by the needy whines and moaned words Sun mumbles against you. Most words are too staticky to make out, or stuttered to pieces. You definitely make out your name, the word “good” quite often in what you assume is praise, and you hear “Sunshine” and “Starlight” repeated.
Finally, with the wire held tight, you roll it in between your fingers.
For a second, you worry you electrocuted Sun. He jolts, shuddering hard against you. His fans are kicking up a frenzy. He has stopped mumbling, uttering one final, whimpering moan.
You are breathless, face hot and a core like molten lead. You almost ask Sun if he is okay, when you look over and find his eyes blank. His grip is still there, his body still pressing you hard to the desk. But he appears powered down. You call to him, and get no response.
Frantically, you feel around the wire to make sure you didn’t unplug it, but it seems secure. You swap to holding his faceplate, rubbing his cheeks with your fingers and calling to him.
After what feels like a long time, but couldn’t be more than a few minutes, you feel movement. You hear the sound of his body running, noticing how eerily silent the room was without its ambiance. You wait patiently for him to power back up fully.
Finally his eyes light back up and he looks at you. He eases the hold he had on you, running his hand soothingly up and down your thigh. He nuzzles his faceplate against you, and you give him a small kiss in response.
You don’t mention what you think just happened. You aren’t even sure you can. You figure it’s something you can come to terms with later.
Sun breaks the silence. “I’m sorry, Sunshine, but you have to go now.”
You nod, “I know. I just hate to leave you.“
Sun hums happily, and you think it almost sounds…sleepy?
“We know, dear, we hate for you to leave, too. But lights off is in less than 5 minutes. You know the rule. We will see you tomorrow, yes?”
You run your hand down a sun ray before holding it gently. “Yeah, Sunny, I’ll be here tomorrow.”
He sways again, slowly and fluidly. His movements seem less jerky overall. You hadn’t even realized they looked jerky until now, seeing his smooth movements in comparison.
“I’ll walk you to the doors,” he says, but he doesn’t move away from you immediately to let you hop down from the desk. You pat his cheek and he hesitantly shifts out of your way, grabbing your hand to guide you off.
He helps you put on your backpack, and walks you to the heavy daycare doors. Before you can pull them open, he stops the doors with his hand.
He leans down close to you, putting his other hand on your cheek. The size of his hand means he is cupping your neck, jaw, cheek, and hair at the same time.
“We feel unsatisfied that we can’t do something nice for you like you have for us. You have no wires for us to reach in and organize.” He speaks lowly, watching your face.
You almost choke on nothing. While he may be right, you feel the distinct sensation of many, many wires twisting hard inside you.
You clear your throat before saying, “It’s okay, Sunny, I’m just glad to help. M-maybe…if something comes up…I’ll l-let you know? If I need help?” You want to bury your head in the ground.
Sun leans his faceplate to your forehead. “We can’t wait!” He sounds to sincere and excited. You wish the Earth would swallow you whole.
He leans his smile to your lips and you kiss him again as the hand previously holding the doors closed winds around your waist. He is pulling you against him again, and you sigh against his mouth.
But then he leans and opens the doors, pushing you through them. You whine, and his sun rays move in and out randomly at the sound.
“Sorry, Sunshine, but times up. Lights off in 2 minutes. We will see you tomorrow, so hold that thought until then!”
He is slowly pulling the doors closed when you call, “Good night, Sunny!”
He hesitates, peeking through the crack in the door. His single eye is watching you, and you hear him say, so softly, “Good night, Starshine.”
(You don’t see that the other eye, hidden behind the door, is black, with a steadily dilating crimson pupil.)
The door is pulled closed, and moments later the lights in the daycare blink off. You turn and make your way to the clock out station, then head to the front doors.
When you make it to your car, you sit in the driver’s seat and stare into the dark night around you. Before you can catch yourself, a bubble of laughter leaks out of you. It rips itself out of you of its own accord until you are hysterically laughing, burying your burning face into your hands.
Whelp. Time to go home and take a long, cold shower. You have work in the morning.