Work Text:
The clock in their shared home studio clicked over to midnight, but Thomas paid no mind. Guy-Manuel had left hours ago, claiming to be tired. Thomas knew he was just sick of hearing the same one second samples over and over. He hadn’t tried to stop his companion, and chose to stay and work.
Thomas played the song back again, finally feeling that his efforts could be concluded for the night. He was reluctant to leave, but he supposed he should at least check on Guy-Manuel.
After the explosion, Guy-Manuel had moved into Thomas’ apartment immediately, no questions asked. They relied on each other more now, to assist if one of them had trouble with their technology. It was also easier to work on their music careers this way.
Thomas knew Guy-Manuel worried about his mental health, too, just like their doctors. You work too much, Thomas, give it a rest.
Everyone felt uneasy to leave Thomas alone these days. Thomas never talked to him about it, but he suspected Guy-Manuel knew the real reason he worked himself ragged. It was his lifeline to reality. When he wasn’t working, he’d feel the cold trickle of anxiety creep down his artificial spine. He’d think about how close they’d come to death. How no one else in the world could understand what they’d gone through, or how their lives were forever changed. Sometimes his thoughts went as far as wishing they’d just left him in that burning building. Maybe that would have been a better fate than this new, robotic, second chance at ‘living’.
He couldn’t hide himself from Guy-Manuel the way he could with the rest of the world. Thankfully, if Guy-Manuel did know, he never said anything about it. Everything was still too new, too fragile.
Out of habit, Thomas stretched his muscles as he stood from his chair. He supposed they were just phantom pains, but he swore he still got cricks in his neck from too much sitting at a desk. Heading out of the studio, Thomas came into the open living room and kitchen, surprised to not find Guy-Manuel watching TV.
“Guy-Man?” Thomas called out, his voice coming through a synthesizer. Possibly the only upside to their new condition was the melodic, auto-tuned way they spoke. Thomas had already penned down lyrics for many potential songs, looking forward to exploring their singing capabilities in the coming weeks.
He got no response. Thomas wondered if his companion had gone into rest mode, their version of sleeping. He wandered upstairs to their bedrooms, seeing the door to Guy-Manuel’s room closed. The light was still on, spilling under the crack of the door. Just as Thomas was about to speak again, he heard a noise that froze him in place.
“A-Ah!”
Thomas thought maybe he’d imagined it, but soon a steady stream of whimpers filled the hallway. There was no mistaking what Guy-Manuel was doing in there. Thomas felt his cooling fans kick on around his motherboard, which was the closest he could come to blushing nowadays.
He wasn’t sure what to do. He’d wanted Guy-Manuel to come listen to his progress on their music, but now Thomas felt stuck in place. His brain shouted at him to run away, or maybe jostle his own bedroom door loudly, so Guy-Manuel would know he was out there. Thomas couldn’t remember the last time he’d thought about intimacy. Since he’d thought about anything, really, except for music and appointments with their doctors. He suddenly realized, standing in that hallway alone, that he missed it. He missed it really, really badly.
A particularly shrill whine interrupted his sadness. Thomas knew it was wrong, but he was too transfixed by the sounds Guy-Manuel was making to move. He wished he hadn’t left the studio, and was almost going to turn back when a different sound froze him once again.
“T-Thomas…”
Panic seized the silver robot. For a moment he thought maybe Guy-Manuel had gotten X-Ray vision from his reconstruction surgery, and just hadn’t told Thomas about it. The whirring of his cooling fans got louder in his helmet as Guy-Manuel continued moaning his name.
He knew his relationship with Guy-Manuel had always been close. Maybe too close, at times, but if they both enjoyed it, what was the harm? For all their silent communicating and unspoken agreements, Thomas wished they’d discussed this more clearly. The whole situation was so confusing, it was making his head spin. Thomas reached out and leaned a hand on the wall to keep himself from falling over.
As Guy-Manuel babbled away behind his closed door, Thomas could not stop his imagination from running wild. He had spent countless nights in his bedroom with Guy-Manuel working on music, but now he pictured them differently. He thought of being tangled in the sheets together, listening to Guy-Manuel make those sounds up close. Feeling the shorter robot squirm beneath him as he slowly came undone. Or maybe Guy-Manuel would want to be in control, rolling them over so he could pin Thomas down to the mattress.
He wasn’t sure exactly how stimulation worked now, with their new bodies, but Thomas was certainly hot all over. He lacked his previous anatomy to feel any arousal in his pants, but he could feel his internal processors working faster than usual. He found he was trembling in place, and his cooling fans were unable to combat the extra heat from his internal computers going into overdrive.
Outside of their apartment, a car horn suddenly blasted the sensitive moment to pieces. They loved their native city dearly, but Parisian traffic was a downside. Thomas actually yelped, catching himself on the wall. The sensual cries from Guy-Manuel also abruptly stopped. Thomas stood still in the hallway, straining to listen for more movement in the bedroom.
Guy-Manuel’s bedroom door suddenly swung open, revealing the shorter robot wearing a sleep shirt and sweatpants. Thomas wildly hoped that if he held perfectly still, somehow Guy-Manuel wouldn’t see him.
“What are you doing, Thomas?”
He let his silver helmet gently thunk against the wall.
“U-Um, I was just-I wanted to see if y-you, ah…if you wanted to…” Thomas couldn’t finish his sentence, or meet Guy-Manuel’s blank gaze.
Guy-Manuel let him flounder for a couple more seconds before cutting him off. “Did you hear me in there?”
Wordlessly, Thomas nodded.
Guy-Manuel huffed out a laugh. He leaned against the door frame, folding his arms over his chest, gold helmet cocked to one side. Briefly, Thomas was grateful that some things never changed, including his friend’s unmistakable body language.
“Were you…listening?” Guy-Manuel’s voice was a mixture of bored and vaguely amused.
Thomas hung his head in shame, words spilling out of his helmet before he could stop himself. “I-I didn’t mean to, Guy-Man, I swear! I was coming to-to ask you to listen to my…the progress-I made progress on our song and-”
More laughter made Thomas falter in his panicked apology. Guy-Manuel stepped towards him slowly, his arms still crossed. “Thomas, Thomas, Thomas…”
“What...?”
“You could have knocked, you know.” Guy-Manuel was directly in front of him now, chin tipped up to meet his eyeline.
Thomas felt winded, despite his lack of lungs. “But-I don’t-I-”
“Thomas,” Guy-Manuel said more firmly. “Stop talking.”
Guy-Manuel reached out one hand, the gold plating catching the dim light. He touched Thomas’ arm gently, rubbing circles with his thumb. Thomas watched in a mix of nervousness and curiosity, wondering what Guy-Manuel was feeling around for.
“Oh..!”
He ran his thumb over a small opening on the back of Thomas’ upper arm. It was an empty port, which their doctors had mentioned could be used for transferring data. Thomas had forgotten it was there until now. The sensation was sudden and vibrant, even through layers of clothing. Thomas shuddered violently as Guy-Manuel honed in on that port, unable to hold back some embarrassing moans.
“G-Guy-Man…ngh,” Thomas felt his knees shaking. “P-Please – ah! – wh-what are you…”
“God, Thomas,” murmured Guy-Manuel, head tilting in curiosity as Thomas fell apart in front of him. “You really do talk too much.”
He took his hand away, and Thomas couldn’t believe how badly he wanted the sensation back. As his head cleared, Guy-Manuel continued, “Don’t you ever play around with your ports?”
All Thomas could muster was a head shake, not trusting his voice synthesizer to behave.
Guy-Manuel jumped a little in shock. “What?! You’ve never – not even with your charging wires?”
“N-No…” Thomas weakly replied.
Guy-Manuel put his hands out again, this time to rest on Thomas’ chest. “No wonder you’re so pent up all the time, wow…I can’t believe you’ve never tried to pleasure yourself. Tell me you weren’t doing this when we were human, too.”
Thomas indignantly pushed Guy-Manuel’s hands away. “S-Stop that! It’s none of your business what I do with myself! The doctors told us not to try anything funny with these new bodies and unlike some people, I listened!”
He was aware of how childish he sounded. Guy-Manuel let out another laugh, harsher than before. “Yeah, right, you’re such a good listener. How about I just tell those doctors that all you do is work instead of taking care of yourself, then, huh?”
“Th-That’s different!” Thomas knew it wasn’t, really, but he felt very vulnerable and backed into a corner.
“How, Thomas? How is it any different?!” Guy-Manuel marched away from him in frustration. “Maybe instead of judging me, you should start taking some of my advice. I found a way to make myself feel good. Feel human. All you do is bury yourself with work to avoid facing reality!”
Thomas couldn’t form a reply. Guy-Manuel sighed through his cooling vents and turned to face him again.
“You think I don’t notice these things? Of course I do, and it worries me.” His gold hands clenched at his sides. “I just want you to feel good, okay? Even if it means charging your battery at night to simulate sleep, or taking breaks at meal times even if we don’t eat…or, y’know…”
He reached out for Thomas’ arm again, feather-light tracing over his port. “Other things.”
Thomas sighed at the touch.
Guy-Manuel took his hand back again. They stared at each other in silence, and Thomas knew Guy-Manuel was waiting to hear some kind of response. He couldn’t find the words fast enough, and he sensed Guy-Manuel’s disappointment in him. The shorter robot sighed, and started walking back out towards their kitchen. “So, what did you want to show me?”
“Guy-Man, w-wait.”
Thomas didn’t move from his place against the wall. Guy-Manuel watched him impassively. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Guy-Manuel had managed to bring out a side that he hadn’t seen of himself since before the explosion, with a simple touch on his arm. He’d been moaning, much to his own humiliation. The least he deserved was a bit more of an explanation.
Taking a deep breath, Thomas continued. “I-I know I work too much. I…I start t-to have, um…bad thoughts, if I don’t.”
He fidgeted with his jacket sleeve. Guy-Manuel did not interrupt him as he struggled to put his feelings into words.
“It’s just – it’s all been s-so much.” Silver hands wrung at his sides. “I…I have no way of-of coping. E-Except m-music, I guess. I-I c-can’t stop thinking…about how horrible, the-the explosion was. Work just…it just blocks e-everything out. A-And, I…I’m sorry if I’ve upset you, or-or worried you, recently.”
It was quiet for a few moments. Thomas kept his gaze fixed on the floor, finding swirling patterns in the plain carpet fabric. For as talkative as he could be in interviews, being open like this was not his strong suit. He wasn’t sure why he’d been so nervous to admit this to Guy-Manuel, but he felt a little better having done so.
Guy-Manuel came back into his space, lifting Thomas’ chin with his finger. They silently gazed into each other’s visors, and suddenly Thomas wished he could still cry. He still remembered Guy-Manuel’s face from before the accident. Sometimes, thinking about Guy-Manuel’s human appearance was the only thing that could calm him down. Guy-Manuel was still the most important person in his life, but he’d always miss those blue eyes.
“Thank you for talking to me about it.” Guy-Manuel’s robotic voice was soft, somehow, and tender. Thomas just leaned into the caress and did not speak. “I feel the same, you know. I mean…no one else in the world knows what this is like.”
He gazed at Thomas a bit longer before adding, “Except you.”
Thomas was beginning to feel hot again from their close proximity and Guy-Manuel’s comforting words. He quietly stammered, “I-I-I…I don’t want…t-to go back. To the s-s-studio.”
Guy-Manuel hummed, still holding the cheek of Thomas’ helmet. The rainbow LEDs at the edges of his visor were lighting up. “Good. I don’t want to, either.”
Thomas laughed shakily. He placed a hand on Guy-Manuel’s shoulder. “W-Would you...p-please, show me h-how you…r-relax?”
Guy-Manuel cooed a sweet mechanical sound and took Thomas’ hands in his own. “I thought you’d never ask.”
He led them into his bedroom. Thomas glanced around at the tidy space; at one time, Guy-Manuel’s bedroom had been a permanent disaster zone, bed always unkempt and the smell of stale cigarettes. These days they had far less belongings to worry about. They didn’t even need beds, since their ‘sleep’ consisted of plugging into a wall to charge, but their doctors had felt a sense of normalcy would help them adjust better. It hadn’t appealed to Thomas so far, but he could see the indent in the sheets where Guy-Manuel had been laying before.
Guy-Manuel was already pulling off his own shirt, and Thomas fumbled to do the same. Leaving the discarded clothes near the door, Thomas anxiously fidgeted and waited for Guy-Manuel to say something.
The shorter robot finally cast a sideways look at him, noticing his discomfort. “So…you’ve really not tried any of your ports?”
Thomas shook his head.
Guy-Manuel hummed thoughtfully. He motioned for Thomas to join him on the bed, and they sat across from each other shirtless. “Well, we have these open ports all over our bodies. They’re supposed to be for charging, or uploading data. I think at some point they want us to try something called ‘interfacing,’ meaning we actually plug in to each other.”
Thomas sat up in surprise at that. He had no idea Guy-Manuel had learned all of this about their bodies. He began to wonder what else they would be able to do as robots, especially in terms of music-making, but his partner continued talking and pulled his mind away from work.
“It’s probably not a good idea to start with that,” mused Guy-Manuel. “Besides, touching the empty ports is really nice. And playing with cords too, even if it isn’t plugged into anything.”
Thomas still felt lost, but he leaned forward when Guy-Manuel reached for his arm again. One gold-plated finger circled the port on his bicep slowly. Thomas shivered at the gentle touch, allowing himself to actually feel the stimulation in his body. He hadn’t been the most experienced in his human days, but he remembered enough to compare this to kissing during foreplay. It was tenderly warming him up, heat racing through his circuits as his body took the sensations in. He glanced up at Guy-Manuel, who was staring intensely at him.
“G-Guy-Man…” moaned Thomas quietly. He was still jittery and mortified to admit this, but he figured they were already shirtless in bed together. “I…I r-really liked the-the sounds…you were m-making earlier.”
Guy-Manuel perked up a little at that. He kept pleasuring Thomas’ port, but shifted them around so Thomas was leaning back against the headboard. He started pressing harder, and Thomas responded eagerly, his body arching up for more contact. Guy-Manuel leaned in and burrowed his faceplate into the crook of Thomas neck. The coolness of his helmet felt nice as Thomas continued to heat up.
Thomas wasn’t sure where Guy-Manuel’s ports were, but he reached out anyway, feeling metal plating shift under synthetic skin. It was surprisingly sensual; Guy-Manuel groaned above him, and Thomas was suddenly reminded of a summer holiday before the accident. They’d gone to the beach together, seeking a break after months of DJ sets and record label negotiations. Guy-Manuel had faced away from him, easily sweeping his shirt over his head, long hair blowing across his face in the salty breeze. Thomas had been unable to hide his open-mouthed stare, wanting so badly to reach out and run his fingertips down Guy-Manuel’s spine.
He pushed the nostalgic sadness out of his mind, trying to focus on the blossoms of pleasure coursing through his body. Thomas traced down the length of Guy-Manuel’s back with the passion he’d felt on that beach day. Once he reached Guy-Manuel’s lower back, he was surprised to find two open ports on each side of his spine. Tentatively, he traced over the right-side port, pleased when Guy-Manuel shivered over him.
“Mmh…keep going, yes, right there…” Guy-Manuel kept up a steady flow of encouragement as Thomas touched him. These ports were larger than the one on Thomas’ arm, and after a few more minutes circling the opening, Thomas dipped a finger in.
Guy-Manuel cried out, and Thomas stopped fearfully. “O-Oh – Guy-Man, d-did I hurt you?!”
“Nngh – no…please, Thomas,” Guy-Manuel placed his hands on either side of Thomas’ head, holding himself up. “Please keep going…”
Thomas resumed his movements, watching in awe as his partner shuddered and trembled. The ports weren’t big enough for him to fit an entire digit in, but he ravished both openings as best as he could. Guy-Manuel’s thighs were shaking on either side of Thomas’ body. He thought back to their conversation before, when Guy-Manuel had mentioned the ways to interact with their robotic forms.
“D-Do you want a…a c-cord?” Thomas managed to stammer.
Guy-Manuel grunted, shifting off of Thomas’ lap to find something on his nightstand. He came back with a plain black cable that had two insertable ends. It resembled the kind that plugged an electric guitar in to an amp, and Thomas had no idea where Guy-Manuel had gotten it.
Guy-Manuel sat on Thomas’ legs and handed him the cord. Thomas stared at it, then at Guy-Manuel, who tilted his head like he was rolling his eyes.
Taking Thomas’ hands in his own, Guy-Manuel guided the silver robot to the ports on his lower back. Slowly, he used Thomas’ hand to trace the port, and just the light touching made his helmet light up at the sides. Thomas reached out to steady him by the waist, and took over the movements himself, teasing Guy-Manuel the way he showed him. They were slowly rocking against each other, the rustling of fabric mixing with Guy-Manuel’s whines.
Thomas could feel his internal computer system struggling to keep up with all the stimulation. His entire body felt like a live wire that could spark at any moment. He started to wonder if he should be worried about catching flame when something brushed against the back of his neck, causing him to moan loudly in surprise.
“I always think of you, you know,” Guy-Manuel was growling against Thomas’ neck. “Even before the accident. I would touch myself and I always ended up thinking of you…”
Guy-Manuel had moved his hands to the back of Thomas’ neck, where a flat panel connected a collection of wires into his most sensitive internal processors. He left light touches on the ports there, some empty, some filled. It reminded Thomas of the moment one bares themselves to their lover for the first time: a rush of cold air, a moment of shyness, and an avalanche of intimacy soon after. He pictured Guy-Manuel from earlier in the evening, moaning his name into a pillow. He pictured Guy-Manuel from before the accident doing the same thing. It was enough to make his vision blur at the edges.
Thomas was overtaken with arousal and jammed the cord he was holding all the way into Guy-Manuel’s lower back. It clicked innocently into place, but Guy-Manuel jerked forward with a shout, helmet lightly knocking against Thomas. Their bodies were flush against each other, and the sudden contact had Thomas’ helmet lolling to the side.
“Ah…a-ah! Thomas…” There were those sweet sounds again, the ones that had frozen Thomas in their hallway before. He let out a garbled whine in response.
Guy-Manuel took one of his hands and brought it to the back of his own helmet. Thomas felt along the identical panel, tentatively rubbing at an open port. In response, Guy-Manuel whimpered into his shoulder, one hand leaving the back of Thomas’ helmet to run down his chest. His touches grew clumsy against Guy-Manuel’s wiring. It was becoming harder and harder to focus on anything with his system running so hot, and with the noises his partner was making.
Thomas tried to voice this to Guy-Manuel. “I-I – ah – s-so…hot…”
Guy-Manuel just nodded. “It’s okay, Thomas…y-you’re going to reboot. It feels amazing. Just let the feeling take over…”
He moaned and focused on Guy-Manuel’s fingers, which were twisting the wires behind his head more roughly now. It felt unbelievably good, and incomparable to anything Thomas had done as a human. He became vaguely aware that he was thrusting up into Guy-Manuel’s body, pleasure firing off at all points of contact with his body. Thomas wasn’t sure how he knew this, but he was teetering on the edge of his climax, and he found himself begging for release.
“G-G-Guy-Man…aah…p-please…please…”
Guy-Manuel pulled back a little, taking in the debauched silver robot before the moment of ecstasy. Thomas writhed under the heavy stare. “What is it, Thomas...? Use your words…”
“A-ah…p-p-please…” Thomas gripped at the connections under Guy-Manuel’s helmet, hearing the shorter robot hiss at the sensation. “F-Finish me…”
An animalistic sound came out of Guy-Manuel’s voice synthesizer. Thomas cried out as he felt fingers shove into the empty ports of his helmet interface. He couldn’t be sure, but he certainly felt like sparks went off across his motherboard. Choppy, short-circuiting noises were all he could make to convey the sensations. The pleasure consumed him, and before he knew it his vision was going black, cooling fans roaring in his head like an airplane. He could feel his body twitching and then slumping, and the last thing he heard was a breathy ‘Thomas’ before he succumbed to the soft darkness.
It was almost like sleeping, but Thomas still felt a muddy sense of consciousness. He floated in a black abyss, feeling so heavy but also weightless. The feeling was strange and yet familiar, and Thomas was once again reminded of a memory with Guy-Manuel from before their accident.
It could be intimate, sharing a piece of art with a friend. Thomas remembered playing Guy-Manuel an early version of a song intended for their next album after Homework; at the time, the song and the second album were unnamed, their future bright but uncertain. He’d been sharing his music with Guy-Manuel since they first became friends, and they were no strangers to critiquing each other’s work. This time, though, would be different. Homework had not featured any significant songwriting, but Thomas felt maybe their next project could go in that direction.
Thomas sat at his desk, which was covered in the few synthesizers and MIDIs they could afford. Guy-Manuel had been at the foot of his bed, watching him expectantly. This is how most of Homework had been done: someone at the computers, someone at the bed, both sets of ears intently listening. Just like you’ve always done it, Thomas reminded himself.
He was nervous anyway. Guy-Manuel started to grow impatient, picking at his fingernails. It can’t be worse than what we did with Darlin’. Just play the track, Thomas.
Thomas nodded, hesitating just a moment more before starting the song. He’d recorded the demo onto a tape, and the dulcet tones of his keyboard began playing through his stereo. Thomas bobbed along to the simple chord progression, stealing glances at Guy-Manuel. As his own voice came into the mix, Thomas took in a breath and averted his eyes to his lap.
It might not be the right time…
I might not be the right one…
But there’s something about us, I want to say…
‘Cuz there’s something between us, anyway…
Thomas felt his ears burning at the sound of his own singing. He’d always wished his voice was less nasally, less accented. He was already scheming about innovative ways to cover up the embarrassment, like some autotune, or an effect pedal.
I might not be the right one…
It might not be the right time…
But there’s something about us, I’ve got to do…
Some kind of secret I will share with you…
Thomas risked a glance up. Guy-Manuel’s intense blue eyes were staring directly at him, his lips slightly parted in surprise. Thomas jumped a little in his seat, not expecting the eye contact. Whatever Guy-Manuel had been anticipating from him, it clearly wasn’t this melancholic confession.
He didn’t seem upset, though. In fact, Thomas thought he could see a pink tinge to his friend’s cheeks.
I need you more than anything in my life…
I want you more than anything in my life…
I’ll miss you more than anyone in my life…
I love you more than anyone in my life…
Thomas hadn’t known at the time why he’d written that song. It had come to him in one afternoon, and he’d recorded it to the tape by that night. Usually, Thomas fussed much longer over his own music, but this track had been so different from the start. He’d been mortified after showing the track to Guy-Manuel, feeling all too vulnerable for sharing emotions he hadn’t even realized were there. Guy-Manuel had to talk him out of scrapping it completely. Thomas could still picture his shy smile when he’d said it was perfect.
Guy-Manuel, mercifully, had not questioned Thomas about the subject of the song. They weren’t so lucky once the album was completed. Since the release of Discovery, they’d been asked numerous times who Something About Us was about. Thomas always dodged the questions, letting the rumors spread and avoiding figuring it out for himself.
As he slowly woke up in Guy-Manuel’s bedroom, Thomas kept the melody playing in his head. His visor powered back on, and he found himself staring at the blank ceiling. His body was still cooling down physically from their intimacy, and he realized his battery needed charging soon. He still felt heavy, but when he tried to sit up, Guy-Manuel grumbled into his chest and kept him pinned to the mattress. The shorter robot’s arms were wrapped around his midsection, and they tightened to prevent him from leaving.
Thomas chuckled tiredly. It had always been Guy-Manuel, even back when he didn’t know it yet. He felt foolish, looking back on all the memories before the accident. All the secret staring, the songwriting, the closeness of their lives. So oblivious, and so much wasted time…
He stroked the top of Guy-Manuel’s helmet and sighed. He supposed he couldn’t go back and change any of that, the same way he couldn’t go back and prevent the studio explosion. All he could do now was cherish his partner, with purpose, starting now and going until they powered down for the last time.