Work Text:
The maintenance takes a little longer today. Iruma spent a good hour making a tool from scratch to fix the dent in Kiibo’s arm, and then two more hours actually fixing it. Then she sat herself by her desk to write up a report for herself, and since then, she’s been quiet.
Over in the seat, Kiibo allows himself to watch Iruma as she scribbles and writes. Her fingers are masterful when tending to him, but like this, she holds the pen in such a way that her hand cramps within ten minutes.
“Hey,” Iruma suddenly calls to him, spinning around in her chair. “You gotta be careful, ‘kay? ‘Cause if I run outta tools to fix you, you're gonna be fucked!”
The thought of it is a little scary. Not being destroyed, no, but the thought of Iruma not being able to fix something.
Hm. How fascinating, Kiibo thinks. Did he get attached? He can't help it, what with Iruma being such a beacon of knowledge and work ethic. Even now, faced with the possibility of either of their deaths, she has stuff ready to begin welding together pieces of scrap metal. Sure, her inventions aren't always conventionally useful, but the care put into them is obvious to him. The body of a drone coming together in the corner of her lab speaks for itself.
It's the same care she puts into cleaning his chassis and ventilators, after all.
“I'll keep it in mind, Iruma-san,” Kiibo tells her. His gaze trails over her, her hair that curls slightly at the ends and eyes lathered in black product, lips that are bitten from nerves. He smiles, genuine. “Thank you.”
Iruma waves him off. When she pulls the goggles over her eyes again, Kiibo loses the ability to read her expression, but the way her shoulders are drawn betrays her embarrassment. “Psh, whatever,” she says. “I'm just sayin’...”
How sweet. Wasn't she already tinkering with the drone at breakfast? Kiibo stands, suddenly determined to bring Iruma something to eat.
She doesn't hear him go. That might be for the best, given that Kiibo stands by the door and watches her for a little longer. He can't help it. There's something about Iruma, something in the way she works with the wires and tools that shows her tenderness. For a moment, Kiibo wonders if her hands are calloused, worn from work. He wants to hold them.
Ah. Embarrassing. His inner fans whir to life, cooling him off. Kiibo runs off to fetch some soup for Iruma.
(When Kiibo comes back with pho and a pair of chopsticks, Iruma plants a kiss onto his hair that leaves behind pink lipstick. She thanks him so honestly that Kiibo has to squint against the brightness of her smile.)
So, really, Kiibo can't be blamed for the fascination he feels towards Iruma’s being. (Not when he's still washing the lipstick out.) He's been able to observe and record many emotions from his peers, from anger and sorrow to joy and euphoria, but pleasure has evaded him. Attachment, something personal that isn't just the fondness he feels towards his father, towards the Professor.
Thankfully, Iruma is a very willing teacher.
That day (with the drone, the soup and the lipstick in his hair) doesn't end in pleasure exactly, but it's a near thing. Iruma finishes her drone and shows it off, fingers holding onto its metal plating so carefully with caution up to her ears. As if it was alive. As if it was conscious, one of hers, part of her.
She catches Kiibo staring, and assumes he is judging her – what could a drone even be useful for in this killing game? Kiibo defends himself, proclaims how much of a genius he thinks Iruma is, and within five minutes they are kissing.
He can't quite recall who initiated it, but with how skittish Iruma is, it couldn't have been her. She keeps pushing at his shoulder until he backs away, eyes narrowed and bangs sticking to her forehead with nervous perspiration. She asks him if he's out of his mind. He kisses her again.
This is how to show admiration at this age, no? Teenagers and sex, sex and teenagers. Of course, they are not quite teenagers, and it is not quite sex, because Iruma looks ready to pass out just from this and Kiibo registers too late that he is the only one out of the pair that doesn't need to breathe.
“Forgive me,” he finally says to her while she's panting and wide-eyed. “I did not realise… Um. That kissing took oxygen.”
“Oh my god,” Iruma says, and kicks him out of her lab.
The next day at breakfast, Iruma sits right next to him and laughs, laughs, laughs. She spins a tale about how she had a moment of weakness, then starts to insult him, calls him a few names and clams up.
It's only their first week or so of knowing each other, yet Kiibo already feels like he knows everything. The way she lashes out, fearful of rumors. She was probably expecting to be called a not-kind-word starting with w and ending in hore first thing in the morning, the result of a snitch that kisses and tells. Kiibo wonders who treated her like this. Who kissed her with tongue and held her in their arms and then threw her away as if she didn't matter.
She looks upset at his lack of reaction, but nobody is looking at them and nobody seems to care. “Iruma-san,” Kiibo says, smiling, “Good morning. Would you like to hang out again today?”
Of course, scars don't heal with smiles and Iruma doesn't accept, doesn't fall into the metaphorical trap she's dreamed up, but they still end up kissing in the warehouse by evening so Kiibo is quite happy nonetheless.
Mindful of her oxygen, taking notes on her internal temperature and heartbeat, Kiibo feels a certain level of affection inside him that he can only compare to carrying a small animal. Much like one, Iruma curls into him and hides, and Kiibo uses his experience of handling kittens to scritch at her scalp and let her have her space.
(Metaphorical. She does have her face pressed into his chest, so ‘space’ is a bit of a generous word.)
The drone ends up helping quite a lot during their investigation of the school the next week, and that's the only reason that they end up back at Iruma’s lab. She needed someone to brag to, to feel better about herself. The kissing was just a bonus. Probably.
She doesn't get to brag that much before she sits on a couch and gives Kiibo a specific look. One that has her eyes slightly half-lidden, cheeks flushed. Her hands grip the hem of her skirt so tight that they go white, and Kiibo understands.
That is the first day that ends in pleasure, more precisely with Iruma straddling him and holding his face and grinding her hips down against his thigh and and and— and Kiibo already imagines the next time and thinks, this is not good.
He thinks, am I supposed to be this greedy? Because Iruma looks exceptional when she feels good, and Kiibo makes a record of the frequency of her movements and the way her heartbeat spiked and the lock of hair that stuck to her chest and–
And he fears he has grown to be so full of greed that he locks his hands behind Iruma and does not let go.
She's once again panting against his mouth, trying hard to catch her breath after a delightful climax, and Kiibo is already thinking about the next time, the next time, because he wants to see it again and wants to do more than just simply press his tongue against Iruma’s and allow her to use his thigh to get off.
Greedy, greedy robot, who already wants more.
Iruma cleans him, cotton swabs bending into crevices with precision, and Kiibo can only watch her eyes and remember the way they shut tight when she came.
Hm. Not good, indeed.
But Kiibo can’t be blamed. No, Kiibo can't be blamed at all, not when Iruma shines so brightly, satisfied and basking in the afterglow.
Out of vague embarrassment, Kiibo refuses to shoulder the thought for a while, but it is inevitable that he has to come to terms with it. He might be a little addicted.
After that day, the first time their close embrace yielded results of category:pleasure, Kiibo starts bringing Iruma things he finds around the school. A clover, an apple he carved into a bunny, a paper crane. In his eyes, a block of ones and zeroes. In Iruma’s eyes, adorable pieces of affection. She grows endeared to the gifts, drying the clover to keep it and hanging up the paper crane to flow through her room like a bird.
Kiibo comments on it once, when she lets him into her room. That it looks lonely, stuck in place. Iruma has a mechanism ready by that evening, complete with a motorised path that allows the crane to soar through the space of her room. He gifts her another one, and then there are two. Two cranes that soar side by side, sometimes bumping into each other.
Two cranes. Kiibo likes to watch them, when he’s lounging on Iruma’s bed.
Ah. That.
Kiibo has taken to sleeping in Iruma’s dorm room sometimes. The rules don't forbid it, and Iruma has started to complain of back pain after the seventh time that Kiibo brought her to completion against her inventor’s desk. And after they spend an hour fooling around, lips locked and Iruma disheveled and pretty against the bedsheets, she refuses to let him go.
Kiibo does not mind. After all, it makes it that much easier for him to hop back into learning when they wake up tangled in each other.
Pleasure is such a fascinating emotion that he can not get enough of in his unlimited memory bank. Most of all, it looks so wonderful on Iruma that he can not get enough of the wide range of ways she expresses it.
Tugging at his hair is a favorite of hers, when he sinks down to lick at her. Her verbalisations go from insults to pleads, and her state of undress depends on the day. Kiibo has enough experience to start making spreadsheets in his mind.
And the others–
Kiibo forgets about the others, for a little bit.
He wakes to Iruma, they eat together, they investigate and explore and bunker up in her lab or her room and kiss until Iruma demands Kiibo to make her finish, and they go to bed side by side. It's only when the others bring it up that Kiibo grows sheepish.
It's Shirogane, of all people. “Say,” she starts, “Haven't you and Iruma-san been awfully close lately?”
Close. Hm. At that word, he grasps Iruma’s hand, but does not notice the way she squeaks and pretends it's nothing. Close. How peculiar.
“We have been, yes,” Kiibo says, open. “She has been a great help in my investigations.”
“I didn't know you explored the school together,” Saihara says from the side.
Kiibo frowns. “Ah. Yes, that too.”
“Well,” Shirogane says, hesitant. Her face is tinted red. “How about you spend more time with us, Kiibo? That should be fun! I've always wanted to talk to a robot!”
That is precisely why he has been sticking by Iruma all this time. Because she is kind, and so, so honest about the way she sees him. A marvel. A beauty. Not only a robot, a husk of metal. Like her drone, he is one of hers, part of her. She's cleaned and fixed him enough times to warrant that title.
However, he has been neglecting the others. And in a situation like this, it's natural that everyone should get to know each other better.
He agrees to spend the day with Shirogane and Saihara, cleaning out the mess in the warehouse with uncharacteristically shaky hands. They find all sorts of interesting things that Iruma must've missed on her first trip to the warehouse, when she was interrupted by Akamatsu and Saihara. Mainly, they find medicine supplies. Bandages, ointments, gauze, alprazolam – a benzodiazepine, used for treating anxiety disorders, addictive, prescribed to Iruma Miu. Why is it here? Did Iruma not find it?
He lifts it to show the others, Saihara’s expression turning confused and Shirogane tilting her head.
“Anxiety medicine,” Kiibo explains. “It seems they've accounted for prescriptions.”
“Ah!” Shirogane gasps. “That's true! Yumeno-san also said something about that! That's so thoughtful, isn't it?”
Saihara looks pensive. “Calling our kidnappers thoughtful…”
“Well, people could have serious illnesses,” Shirogane says.
Kiibo pockets the box, thinking idly about Iruma having gone almost a month now without her prescription, and they keep cleaning. At some point, it turns into organizing. Shirogane keeps moving large stacks of boxes to the side, and when Kiibo peeks at them, they're mechanical parts. Circuits, wires, cords, hinges and silicone and oil and metal.
“Hm,” Kiibo ponders, “I think Iruma-san would like these.”
Shirogane spins to look at him. “I was gonna bring them to her! You keep searching with Saihara, okay?” And with a lack of honorific, Shirogane takes the boxes and leaves. Kiibo thinks for a moment, wondering if Shirogane ever even talked to Iruma before.
“Um,” Saihara says, adjusting his hat. “Okay? Guess we can just keep going…”
“You seem to like taking orders,” Kiibo says.
Saihara turns away from him and rummages loudly.
At dinner, Iruma is nowhere to be seen. “She's helping Tojo-san with the food,” Akamatsu says, smiling. “Who knew she could cook?”
“I knew,” Kiibo says, but Akamatsu is already back to gossiping with Chabashira.
When dinner is done, it's a lovely arrangement of dishes that cater to taste and preference. Kiibo can only stare, awed and so, so envious of the others as they start to eat. Iruma sits down next to him, though her own plate looks more minimalistic. Rice and some seasoned veggies and not much else. Kiibo reaches across the table to gather some thin pieces of salmon with chopsticks and then lays them across her rice.
“Ha?” Iruma looks at him. “I don't like salmon.”
Kiibo crosses his arms. “Mm, and you don't like meat either. But you need nutrients from something, Iruma-san.”
Grumbling, Iruma eats the salmon. “Mother hen,” she complains, but her eyes light up when she tastes it. She shovels the whole thing in her mouth.
“Iruma-san, have you never had salmon before?” Kiibo asks, cautious.
Iruma’s expression is answer enough.
Despite having helped with cooking, Iruma pulls Kiibo out of the cafeteria as soon as she's finished eating. Does she not like to clean up? Hm, but Iruma’s lab is always clean and organized.
“Iruma-san!” Shirogane calls after her, stopping them in the doorway. “I actually wanted to ask if you'd like to, um,” she glances around, “Help me with something?”
“Boy, oh boy!” Iruma cackles, “Shittygane, you didn't even say please! And you expect me to help?”
Shirogane looks hurt, and Kiibo steps in. He thinks he knows why Iruma is reacting this way. If Iruma is eager to go back to her lab or her dorm room, she wants Kiibo to tend to her.
“Shirogane-san,” Kiibo says, kind. “What did you need? Perhaps I can lend my assistance?”
She looks between the two of them, eyes lingering on Iruma for a second. “Um. That's okay! On another hand, I think I'll ask Akamatsu….”
“Awfully casual…” Iruma says, eyebrows raised. “You two bumpin’ or something?”
Shirogane turns around and leaves.
Iruma turns to Kiibo, grinning. “Well, it worked!” She says, beaming, and continues tugging him to her dorm room.
The next morning, Shirogane looks miserable.
Kiibo tries to sort through the facts he knows about Shirogane. She only wished to spend time with him when he grew close to Iruma. Does Shirogane like Iruma? Is she feeling envy? Perhaps that is why she felt so desperate to deliver the parts to Iruma’s lab. Hm.
Is there anything to be envious over? Yes, Iruma has become his closest friend at this academy, but they never put a proper label on the status of their relationship. Shirogane fades from his mind after that.
When everyone becomes preoccupied with Ouma’s latest stunt, Kiibo turns to Iruma. “Are we engaged in a romantic partnership?”
It seems Iruma doesn’t hear him, poking at her breakfast idly.
“Iruma-san. Are we romantic partners?”
“Ha?!” Iruma turns to him, suddenly looking very awake and present. “W-what brought that on? I dunno! I’ve never…”
Kiibo feels himself become oddly endeared to the implication that he is Iruma’s first. Partner, that is. If they are partners at all. “Hm.”
“So I don’t really know the, y’know.” Iruma goes back to poking at her food. “Whatever. As if you’d even want someone like me.”
Then, she seems to remember herself, and boasts: “Well, not like you deserve a babe like me, either!”
And then, she seems to remember herself again, because she suddenly looks very guilty. “Sorry… You’re great, y’know…”
It’s Kiibo who remembers himself this time. “Ah,” he says, “I forgot, but I found your prescription at the warehouse a while back. I’m terribly sorry for the delay.”
“Prescription?” Iruma asks, and when she sees the box of alprazolam, she snatches it to her chest. “W-What the fuck! At the warehouse!? I was there, and I looked!”
“I believe Saihara and Akamatsu-san may have interrupted you before you could find it,” Kiibo suggests. “Also, as I understand, it is an addictive substance. Would you like my help with regulating your doses?”
Iruma huffs, pocketing the box and shoving a spoonful of rice pudding into her mouth. “Wha’eva,” she says through a mouthful, and swallows. “I’ve had a month to go through fuckin’ withdrawal anyway. Not like I’ll get addicted again.”
So you were addicted before, Kiibo doesn’t say. He doesn’t understand either, and it makes him a little sad that he probably never will. Then, he thinks of the need he feels to observe Iruma’s pleasure, the sadness that creeps in when he hasn’t seen her in a while, and he thinks he can understand at least a little.
He sees Iruma take her first pill around the late afternoon, when Saihara gathers them to announce that his weeks-long investigation of the entire academy didn’t provide anything useful, and that they are likely to be stuck here for the time being. She takes a second one minutes after, and retires to her dorm room.
Kiibo follows her there, and ends up watching the two cranes spin around as he listens to Iruma’s scribbling from the desk nearby.
“Listen,” Iruma suddenly says, “About the– the… y’know. The– fuck, this is embarrassing…”
Kiibo turns to face her. “Partnership?”
Iruma is silent for a moment. “Yeah. I mean, I– shit, I’d like that, y’know? But I wanted to know what you get…”
That line of inquiry makes Kiibo sit up, alert. Iruma is turned to him, but her eyes are set to the floor, shoulders hunched up. Wasn’t the medicine supposed to make her feel better?
“I don’t understand,” Kiibo says.
“Well,” Iruma mutters, “I get pretty amazing sex, and you listen to me and stuff, but. Um. I dunno. What’s in it for you…? ‘Cause I can’t actually sex you in return, y’know!”
Kiibo tilts his head and smiles. “I do know, Iruma-san. I don’t believe all partnerships have to be transactional, but… I would say that I am glad to observe you.”
“O-Observe?!” Iruma yells.
“In truth,” Kiibo says, “I have been able to learn many emotions in my time. Especially joy, when I was little. Stress, when the exam period rolled around. Sadness and envy when I found my shortcomings. Fear when I woke up here, and safety when you first performed maintenance on me. But I have never understood pleasure. It evades me, and you are very exceptional at teaching me. You have a wide variety of responses to all of my learned techniques, and I don’t think I will ever grow bored of seeing how many more I can unearth when we spend time together. Besides the pleasure, you are an exceptionally smart individual whose mind I wish to understand more, and I hope that one day I could perhaps learn to think like you do.”
Iruma stares at him.
“And you are the only one who doesn’t think less of me because of my robot status,” Kiibo adds. “Furthermore–”
“--Stop!” Iruma says. “Stop. Jesus… I get it, okay?! You-you have a crush on me or something, is that it?!”
For a moment, Kiibo wonders how to tell her that he has had his fingers inside her, so yes, he does have a ‘crush’ on her. Then it dawns on him that Iruma is accounting for their previous encounters and is probably used to people having their fingers inside her and not actually liking her in the slightest.
Hm.
Kiibo is suddenly filled with a feeling he can only describe as despair. “Yes,” he says earnestly. “You could say that I have a crush on you, Iruma-san. I would not have engaged in sexual acts with you otherwise.”
“Well, I was givin’ you maintenance,” Iruma says, completely oblivious to his plight.
Kiibo pulls Iruma into his arms, feeling weirdly masculine when he tries to hold her close. He course-corrects and instead leads Iruma to sit next to him, now feeling more like equals. She still has that expression on her face, the embarrassed flitting of her eyes so she doesn’t have to look at him.
“I would like to be your partner, Iruma-san,” Kiibo says. Then, he stays quiet, leaving the ball in Iruma’s court.
She’s quiet for a long while, hands fidgeting with the hem of her skirt, a lock of her hair, the bow of her uniform. She’s thinking, Kiibo can tell. She’s not being quiet just to be difficult. He waits and waits until Iruma leans forward and places her forehead to his shoulder.
Very quietly, as if afraid of being overheard by anyone other than Kiibo, she says: “Me too…” But then, louder: “So you better take good care of me, okay?!”
Kiibo pulls her face up to force eye contact, and is surprised to find Iruma’s eyes shining with tears. “Ah, Iruma-san,” Kiibo stutters, “Have I not been taking good care of you already?”
Iruma swats at his chest and kisses him.