Emmet and Vicky Shorts

The Break-In
>A nandroid’s hearing is fine-tuned to an extreme tolerance
>Frankly, they rivaled dogs in range and raw acuity
>More conspiracy-minded persons would label these supernatural senses as a means of surveillance, control and information gathering
>But their real purpose was for those moments where hearing mattered
>Emmet’s head perked up in the night, a jiggling downstairs at the store’s entrance waking him
>Eyes aglow he slipped downstairs into the dark, waiting labyrinth of bookshelves
>Snickering, juvenile voices outside whispered their way inside as the lock’s tumblers slipped into place
>Two lanky young men sauntered into the dusty conservatory, flashlight panning through the dark, oaken shelves as they searched for the register
“You *sure* this place is loaded?”
“Of course dude, I saw *two* bot boxes in the alley. This place is *bougey*, easy,” the other said. “Plus with all these old books they’ve gotta have something worth pawning.”
>The pair panned through the decades’ worth of old tomes, books older than their grandparents waiting idly on new owners
>Their grubby mitts ran over leather-bound spines and peeling, gilded lettering
>Turning the corner they jumped in surprise, a beam of light falling on Emmet’s glowing, porcelain face
>Eyes blinking in the beam, lights shuttered like signal lamps, he waved to the men
“Hello gentleman,” he smiled. “May I inquire as to your business tonight? I would regret to inform you that the store is close, but I figure you’re not here for that.”
>The taller of the two sneered at him, glittering, braced teeth flashing as he got up in Emmet’s face
“Look, we don’t want any trouble robot,” he sneered. “So run along or, better yet, give us the cash and we’ll be on our way.”
“We could always scrap him for parts,” the other chimed in.
>Emmet calmly adjusted his bowtie and eyed the bat the shorter one was holding
“Gentlemen,” he began. “Guys, rather. I know you’re not about this lifestyle, about robbing hard working folk. If you’re gonna scrap me, at least be quiet about it! The kids are still asleep, hopefully.”
“What game are you playing, asshole? Just give us the money and no one gets hurt!”
“No game, no jokes. Obviously you’re good with a lockpick, no?”
>The kid half-nodded, confused
“Ah! See, there, you’d earn far more as a locksmith than a robber, and you’d be doing something you're good at, too.”
>Dropping a hand on his shoulder he smiled at the boy, a genuine look of compassion and understanding
“There’s no need to be living life like this when you have so much more ahead of you.”
>The face opposite him contorted in emotion, anger replaced by disgust replaced by remorse
“C’mon dude,” he sniffed. “We’re getting out of here.”
“Whuh- Dude!”
“It’s not worth the trouble, man.”
“Dude, fuck off! Don’t leave-”
>He paused, contorting under the paternal gaze of the robot before him
>His buddy had already slipped out the door and onto the street again, leaving the two alone
>The boy nervously twisted the bat in hand, knuckles flaring white as he stared
“You’re the fighter, huh?”
>Against Sterling protocol’s better judgement he stooped down a bit, coming eye-to-eye with the young man
“We need people willing to hold their ground, who aren’t afraid of a scrap,” he started. “But they also need to know when to pick their battles.”
>The boy kept twisting the bat in his hand, brow sweating in the dim eye-light in front of him
>Scoffing he trod out the door after his friend, pace quickening as it slammed behind him
>Twisting the bolt shut Emmet went to charge again, taking his place aside Vicky in their closet
>There was work to be done tomorrow, after all



Emmet and Vicky's First Kiss
>The Winslows had chosen to go out for the day- there was a major bookfair in the downtown, and they wouldn't miss it for the world
>Even Gloria was taking time off to visit with them, and pick up some of the latest from her favorite author
>This left their two nandroids, Vicky and Emmet, unceremoniously alone
>There wasn't even a list of specific chores for them to do
>Just the same old that they'd set to work on posthaste
>Emmet dove downstairs to take care of the typical dusting and sorting and whatever else he had in his routine, Vicky handling the upstairs
>Emmet was quick about it, his work done in just under two hours
>And now, idling, he ached for something to do
>Stepping lightly upstairs he made his way to help Vicky, gently peeking into each room of the home
>Stepping slowly to the master bedroom he peered in, an overlarge... bunny (?) occupying the space in front of the mirror
>The creak of a floorboard sent the rabbit spinning, reeling as Emmet locked eyes with Vicky
>She was dressed in a deep blue facsimile of those naughty suits Emmet saw on the streets on magazine covers and other, less savory publications
>And here was Vicky, his partner, staring across from him dressed just so
>She shrieked in embarrassment, begging him to get out
>Emmet clapped the door shut, his cheeks fuming in alien confusion
>"How scandalous," he thought, "but... but how *cute*!"
>After a few moments the door squeaked open again, her tiny face peeping back out at him
>Slinging a hand out and onto his chest she yanked him in
>She was back in her regulation outfit, to his stupefied disappointment, the other lying crumpled on the bed
>"Emmet, I don't think I've been completely honest with you."
>"I'm sorry? I mean-," he stopped, not sure whether to chastise or comfort. Comfort, he knew, looking on her steaming, red face. "It's okay, Vicky, it's okay."
>He lent a hand to her shoulder, his shorter counterpart on the verge of tears
>"But... But I stole! H-How do you think I made that?"
>Emmet eyed the crumpled pile of fabric, the abandoned pair of ears besides it
>It was masterful work, really, beautifully crafted and sewn in who knows how many nights alone
>But it was stealing, he knew
>But... but...
>"Sterling says creative hobbies for nandroids can be accepted or even encouraged," he started, the robot lightening up, "so long as thet don't harm the owner or his property."
>He was quoting *the rules*- it was practically over
>She wished she could cry real tears, not just contort her face into a mask of sadness
>"And judging by the fabric that was the Young Missus' formal dress which she despised and wished destroyed. Therefore, no injury to important property, Vicky. Vicky?"
>The short robot had weaseled beside him, bleary eyed and beaming, not sure how to express her thanks
>Stretching up on her little legs she pecked his cheek, a meeting of softer lips to the hard plastic that was quickly reddening
>"V-Vicky!"
>"Yes, Emmet," she smirked
>"N-Nothing, just surprised is all..."
>The two daudled in the room
>The door was still shut, windows shuttered and blinds drawn
>"You know, Emmet," she began, toeing the water. "I've kind of been wanting to kind of... do that."
>She plunged her head down, sheepish
>"Well, uh, gee Vicky," he said, quieting down. "Me too... kinda?"
>"O-Oh! Then you wouldn't mind if I..."
>She dropped another little smooch on his cheek, warming from the burning incandescent light inside
>And then another, the suffering robot taking each nip in stride
>He was ready to go, realizing dinner wasn't ready, turning his head to face Vicky
>Vicky, who was already in motion to lay another one on him, opened her eyes to see Emmet's looking back at her
>In a collision of their soft, machine lips they practically fried the lights screwed into their faces
>Eyes closing together they stood there, soaking in the connection
>The two had spied in secret, unbeknownst to the other, on Hector and Jeanette
>They'd absorbed all they could know from their displays of affection, but now, in the moment, it was all useless
>Standing, locked together at the face, it was Emmet now who took action
>He gently raised his arms to pull his partner into a hug, squeezing her more
>She returned the gesture, eyes shutting tighter and arms pulling Emmet closer
>Holding each other they remained, glued together at the lips, tilting their heads to adjust a bit here and there
>It was dry, frictional- not what they'd had in mind
>But it was warm (though that might just be their cheeks), and warmth was all they wanted, all they needed
>It was warmth that held the Winslows together, and it was warmth that was holding them together in that instant
>An instant interrupted by a click at the door, Gloria popping her head in
>Eyes wide in surprise she watched the two robots kissing, not sure what to do
>Seeing the bunnysuit on the bed she was left even more confused
>Emmet, eyes open again, nearly jumped into the air upon seeing her, Vicky going to hide herself
>She smiled, understanding, fingers dragged across her lip and then flicking away an imaginary key
>Fingers to her lips she called downstairs that the robots weren't present, nodding knowingly as she closed the door