Clu growled into his tea, drained it in a final swig, and banged the gathered plates into the sink. He couldn't banish queues here. He couldn't just drop to standby or force idle while he did tasks by rote. So he was stuck loudly finishing chores while trying to think of something, anything, else except this.
He didn't know what he was feeling! But wow, was there a lot of it, and all of it had come to a boil, again, because he was thinking, again, about being mated.
The idea looked very good on paper. (He'd made diagrams. Some of them were even the kind with the little hearts, though he'd quickly destroyed those and dismissed them to the trash.)
They were good together, and not just at work--they excelled at little things like raking the yard, or big ones like...adjusting their tax profile and...distributing computing to a variety of worthy causes without leaving traces. Any task that could be broken into teamwork didn't stand a chance. And they hung out together most of the time. Some of that was this weird new world and its weird idea that he needed, or at least should have, a chaperone, but mostly it was just how easy they found it to be in each others' company. To talk, to laugh, to swap memes in the break room when they really should have been doing something else. To spend whole afternoons curled up and doing nothing, breathing lazily against each other over the dull roar of the tv.
And they enjoyed each other. Every bit of each other. On every surface in the house. Repeatedly.
So after his fourth compromising and sticky sparkly vampire princess mating-bite dream in as many heats, Clu was almost ready to just bite his code-brother, instead. Except it was a huge commitment. And they'd been working, very thoroughly, on all the permutations of consent and how important all of them were.
Just because he wanted it, didn't mean the alpha wanted it from him.
And his code-brother was the real deal: smart, kind, funny, and almost maddeningly patient, except when he was being mischievous instead. He had so much to offer someone.
Clu himself did not have those traits. He knew he didn't. Would it even be fair, to ask him for his mark?
Would his directive compel him to say yes?
...Would Clu even be able to stop himself if that turned out to be the case? And how could they live with each other, if it did?
Clu sighed and made a point of gently finishing up, carefully arranging every single dish, delicate against his urge to throw at least one. It wasn't the forks' fault he was in this mess. These thoughts were all his own. He was the one not talking about them, too far down in his own logic loops to actually say anything.
He made cocoa, instead. Sure he'd just had tea, but there was always room for more, and they almost always drank this together. Besides, it would steel his nerves.
"Hey!" Bright, pleased, a cheerful bellow calibrated to get his attention, neck craned toward the living room. "Dude! I'm making chocolate! You want?"
The most successful opening gambit in the history of conversation. His code-brother would never knew what hit him.
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ninetydegrees
byte, n. 1: a group of binary digits or bits (usually eight) operated on as a unit
He didn't know what he was feeling! But wow, was there a lot of it, and all of it had come to a boil, again, because he was thinking, again, about being mated.
The idea looked very good on paper. (He'd made diagrams. Some of them were even the kind with the little hearts, though he'd quickly destroyed those and dismissed them to the trash.)
They were good together, and not just at work--they excelled at little things like raking the yard, or big ones like...adjusting their tax profile and...distributing computing to a variety of worthy causes without leaving traces. Any task that could be broken into teamwork didn't stand a chance. And they hung out together most of the time. Some of that was this weird new world and its weird idea that he needed, or at least should have, a chaperone, but mostly it was just how easy they found it to be in each others' company. To talk, to laugh, to swap memes in the break room when they really should have been doing something else. To spend whole afternoons curled up and doing nothing, breathing lazily against each other over the dull roar of the tv.
And they enjoyed each other. Every bit of each other. On every surface in the house. Repeatedly.
So after his fourth compromising and sticky sparkly vampire princess mating-bite dream in as many heats, Clu was almost ready to just bite his code-brother, instead. Except it was a huge commitment. And they'd been working, very thoroughly, on all the permutations of consent and how important all of them were.
Just because he wanted it, didn't mean the alpha wanted it from him.
And his code-brother was the real deal: smart, kind, funny, and almost maddeningly patient, except when he was being mischievous instead. He had so much to offer someone.
Clu himself did not have those traits. He knew he didn't. Would it even be fair, to ask him for his mark?
Would his directive compel him to say yes?
...Would Clu even be able to stop himself if that turned out to be the case? And how could they live with each other, if it did?
Clu sighed and made a point of gently finishing up, carefully arranging every single dish, delicate against his urge to throw at least one. It wasn't the forks' fault he was in this mess. These thoughts were all his own. He was the one not talking about them, too far down in his own logic loops to actually say anything.
He made cocoa, instead. Sure he'd just had tea, but there was always room for more, and they almost always drank this together. Besides, it would steel his nerves.
"Hey!" Bright, pleased, a cheerful bellow calibrated to get his attention, neck craned toward the living room. "Dude! I'm making chocolate! You want?"
The most successful opening gambit in the history of conversation. His code-brother would never knew what hit him.