Sasha awoke with half of her body very cold, and the other half pleasantly warm, she realized even before she opened her eyes. She groped around, searching for the edge of the blanket to cover her nakedness. She found it low on her hips and went to pull it up, but it resisted. She gave it another tug but it stubbornly refused to move any farther to cover her. She opened her eyes then, raising her head a bit.
She dropped her head back to the pillow with a whump and a laugh. Beside her Rhys was so inexorably cocooned in the blanket that there was no way she was going to free it without sending him spinning off the narrow bed.
“Ha,” she chuckled, “figures.” She rolled onto her side, taking advantage of what covers she could use, and propped the side of her head up with her hand. She took a moment to just take in his appearance, something she caught him doing to her so many times, that she never allowed herself be caught doing the same. Cocooned as he was laying on his stomach, most of his tattoos were hidden once again, save for the defiant black one on his neck. To be honest, she’d been surprised at the amount of ink he’d had underneath his shirt. For someone who so loudly protested uncomfortable experiences, she had a hard time seeing him stay still under the needle for as long as he must have.
But then again, he was full of surprises, she mused.
His hair gel must be some strong stuff, for his hair was only just beginning to curl at the edges, breaking free from the carefully styled backsweep. Unable to resist, she reached up to stroke the poof of hair at the top of his head.
“Hnnk,” he snorted a bit, startling under her touch and she withdrew with an entertained giggle at the sounds he made waking up. He shook his head, as he woke and his eyes fluttered open unevenly. As he lifted his head from the pillow, she laughed again, for he revealed a decent sized wet spot of drool on the pillow. His eyes gained some clarity then, as he continued to blink, and focused both eyes, brown and gold, on her.
“Hey,” she said, unmoving as he stared.
“Hey,” he echoed, his voice pleasantly mellower than usual, the heaviness of sleep weighing it down. His eyes flickered below her face and down past her neck, before darting back up. He wriggled a bit in his self made cocoon. “Oh, oh I’m sorry,” he stuttered as he scrambled to unwind the blankets. He finally managed to extricate himself and brought up the blankets as he draped them over her too. She watched him curiously with a smile as he went to lay his head back down and was met with the wet spot. “Yuck,” he exclaimed as he jerked away, half sitting up so the blankets fell to his waist. Sasha refrained from commenting but couldn’t help the grin spreading across her face as he flipped the pillow over and laid down on his back.
“You always drool in your sleep?” she asked glibly.
“I don-” he started before realizing the ridiculousness of arguing. “Maybe,” he admitted bashfully. The edges of her lips curled up as she leaned forward and placed a brief kiss upon his lips and he was smiling too when she pulled away to settle against his chest.
“Good to know,” she said, allowing herself a brief nuzzle. He was thin, with not a lot of mass, but he was solid and warm. Even the chrome arm he wrapped around her was pleasantly warm, though not as much as the rest of him. At least being trapped in the covers seemed to have imbued some amount of body heat into the metal. The robotic digits absentmindedly traced a path up and down her hip bone. It wasn’t unpleasant, she thought.
“So,” Rhys muttered, “that happened, huh?”
“Yea,” she laughed. “That happened.” He went quiet with a contented sigh and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes with his normal hand.
“Mm, what time is it…” he wondered aloud and before she could respond his ECHO eye twitched and flickered to life. “Ah,” he said, but didn’t elaborate. “Should probably get up.”
“Why? Have some important meeting with your assembly line robo-buddies?” Sasha asked, quirking a brow.
“I like to keep a schedule, thank you very much,” he said with a brief laugh.
“Ahh, of course you do,” she said, backing up and rolling onto her stomach beside him.
“Hey,” he protested, reaching for her with his normal hand. She let him guide her chin down to him and their lips met again, in a lingering, warm kiss. She drew back again before gravity could make her fall atop him, and got up off the bed, well aware of his eyes trained on her retreating naked form. She picked up the most suitable piece of clothing, Rhys’ discarded black shirt, and with an amused smile, shrugged it on.
“Whatcha doin?” he asked teasingly, still in bed. She threw him a glance over her shoulder as she fastened a couple of the buttons while padding across the small quarters Rhys had claimed in Atlas headquarters as his personal apartment. She entered the kitchenette and opened the fridge.
“Making breakfast. Don’t want to keep you from your work now,” she replied easily, bending and perusing the fridge’s contents. “I want eggs,” she said. “Do you want eggs? Do you have eggs?” she asked, peering closer into the mess of foodstuff, which she noticed was mostly comprised of different kinds of fruits. No wonder he was so scrawny.
Rhys chuckled from behind her and there was a brief rustling of fabric before his footsteps followed her into the kitchenette. A long arm reached over her shoulder to grab a small basket on the top shelf of the fridge. It retreated and she straightened up, turning round in time to see him pull back the cloth to reveal several eggs.
“These enough?” he asked, and she noticed he’d pulled on his slacks.
“It’ll do,” she said appraisingly, as she reached for the basket, only for him to pull it away.
“Ah ah,” he said. “Allow me.” He grabbed a pan from where it hung above the stove. “I assume you want it sunny side up on toast?” he asked as he set the heat. Sasha crossed her arms and leaned against the fridge.
“Uh huh,” she replied.
“Why don't you make the coffee then; this won't take long,” he said and set to work. Soon enough two coffees and two plates of eggs, Sasha’s on toast and Rhys’ over easy, graced the small metal table. As they dug in Sasha couldn't help the small noise of approval. Rhys’ eyebrows twitched up in amusement over the rim of his coffee mug.
“That good huh?”
“Don't flatter yourself, Mister Roboto,” she said smiling as she too reached for her coffee. “Atlas just knows how to make good coffee is all,” she said, taking a sip while he watched knowingly. His shoulders hitched in a chuckle but he let it go and they finished their breakfast with similar brief exchanges.
Rhys wiped his face when he was done and got up, picking up her plate as well and bringing it to the washer.
“I've got to hop in the shower and get going. Make yourself at home,” he said almost automatically before looking back at her. Their eyes met and she trained him with an innocent look that made him laugh again. “Who am I kidding; you were going to do that anyway.” She shrugged her shoulders.
“Hey, I figured with how you made yourself at home in the caravan way back when it'd only be right,” she quipped, and he shook his head with a smile as he disappeared into the bathroom.
There were no clocks in the apartment for as much as she could tell. No weapons or chests or things to explore other than a desk full of papers covered in diagrams and notes, and a closet full of more fine clothes than she’d ever seen in her life.
Sasha pursed her lips to one side, chewing the inside of her cheek for a moment before, standing.
Surely the worker robots could stand to wait a little longer, she thought, as she followed him into the bathroom.