Technoromanticism - Chapter 5
Jan. 18th, 2009 02:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sinnatiousTitle: Technoromanticism
Author: Sinnatious
Summary: TezRyo Robot AU.
Rating: Definitely Mature. For the usual culprits.
Author’s Note: Hopping around the countryside this week, so there won't be another update until next weekend.
_____________________________
Technoromanticism
Chapter 5.0
By Sinnatious
_____________________________
The beeping persisted, a high repeating tone that echoed though the apartment. There was a moment’s pause, and then impatient knocking.
“Answer the door already! It’s annoying!” Ryoma yelled from the living room.
Tezuka stumbled to the door and opened it, fumbling with his glasses. “Oshitari. Good morning.” Belatedly, he remembered to flick on a light, then immediately winced at the brightness.
The well-groomed lawyer merely raised an eyebrow. “And I thought you were an early-riser type, Tezuka.”
Tezuka didn’t bother with a response, holding open the door so that Oshitari could make his way inside, laden down with bags. “Your assistant?”
“In for an upgrade.”
“Hey!” A voice called from the living room. “If you’re awake-”
“Coming,” Tezuka said tiredly. He shuffled into the living room, then returned to the kitchen with dishevelled Ryoma in tow. Oshitari raised an eyebrow.
“This is-?”
“Yes,” Tezuka replied. “Ryoma, this is Oshitari. He’s been providing us with our supplies.”
Ryoma eyed the lawyer suspiciously. “Did you bring something to fix the TV?”
The slightest of smirks playing on his lips, Oshitari withdrew a black set-top box from one of his bags. “It just plugs into the wall, and then-”
Ryoma snatched it away impatiently and headed towards the living room. “I know how it works.”
Tezuka sent a concerned glance, but Oshitari waved it off. “Don’t worry – it’s shielded to only accept incoming signals. But make sure it doesn’t get cracked open – you could make something out of the parts.”
“Thank you.” At least with the television there would be something to occupy Ryoma. There was a burst of noise from the next room.
“He’s certainly a work of art,” Oshitari commented, and then added. “Not that I would know anything about that.”
Tezuka didn’t comment. Sometimes he sort of wished he could pretend ignorance the way Oshitari did.
Ryoma appeared back in the kitchen wearing a satisfied expression. “It works.”
“Obviously,” Oshitari drawled.
Tezuka finished putting the last of the groceries away. “Did Atobe give you any messages?”
“Nothing, but he wanted to know how you were doing. We can still get Inui to drop by.”
“I already told him I was fine,” Tezuka replied.
“You’ve been here for four days without seeing another person,” Oshitari pointed out.
“I’ve been here,” Ryoma stated petulantly.
“You hardly count. He’s probably overworking himself.”
Ryoma folded his arms. “Yeah. He should take a break, and stop poking and prodding me all day long.” These words were punctuated with a glare.
“I haven’t poked or prodded you for the past two days,” Tezuka replied tersely.
“And then he stays up late working on that laptop,” Ryoma reported, clearly seeing a chance to get some mild form of revenge.
“Oh ho?” Oshitari adjusted his glasses. “Interesting. Very well then, consider this your new directive – make sure that Tezuka eats and sleeps regularly.”
Ryoma’s grin was positively evil. He had the feeling that Oshitari had just given Ryoma permission to do something very unpleasant indeed. “He’s not a caretaker bot,” Tezuka protested.
“No, but he’s here and you need one,” Oshitari retorted smoothly. Turning back to Ryoma, he added, “While you’re at it, you might see if you can also get him to stop wearing those hideous purple shirts.”
Tezuka frowned. “They’re lavender.”
Ryoma smirked. “I like them.”
“It’s a good thing I bought your clothes then. I’d hate to see what you’d be wearing otherwise.”
“Then you can buy me some proper underwear,” Ryoma grumbled.
Tezuka opened his mouth to ask, but then thought better of it. He thought he could guess. “Oshitari, I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t make my job any more difficult than it already is.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Inui had said that Oshitari was the Fuji of management, but Tezuka hadn’t really believed him until then. “Oshitari.”
“Of course, Tezuka. I’ll be on my way then,” he replied smoothly. He patted Ryoma on the shoulder in farewell. “You’re certainly an interesting bioroid.”
“I’m human.”
Oshitari smiled indulgently. “Of course you are. Until next time, Tezuka.”
They didn’t speak again until Oshitari had left and the door was firmly closed behind him.
“Heeeeeh, so you are a workaholic. Figured.”
“Wouldn’t you rather be watching the TV now that it’s working?” Tezuka asked tiredly. He knew he should be spending his time investigating the AI more thoroughly, but sleep was still fogging his brain. Oshitari did have a point – he hadn’t been sleeping regularly at all. There were a lot of thoughts keeping him awake at night, and Ryoma would make a racket if he left him immobile for too long.
“Oh, but I have a new directive now,” he quoted blandly.
Tezuka suddenly had a very bad feeling about how the rest of his day would proceed.
His instincts proved to be uncannily accurate.
Ryoma insisted on cooking breakfast, lunch and dinner. Although the term ‘cooking’ was a very loose description of what he was doing, as breakfast was cereal, lunch was burgers – thrown into the microwave, not even grilled – and dinner was burgers again. He wouldn’t let him even power up his laptop either, dragging him in front of the television to ‘relax’, which was more boring than relaxing as there wasn’t that much on and Tezuka honestly found staring contests with Ryoma more interesting. Ryoma seemed to share that opinion, so promptly abandoned it and decided to go through his entire wardrobe instead.
“You dress like an old man,” he announced as he rifled through the closet.
“I thought you said you liked my shirts,” Tezuka replied levelly.
“I do. But you don’t own a single pair of jeans. What are you, forty?”
“I dress appropriately for my position,” he replied stiffly. He was definitely not affronted by the fact that a bioroid had vastly overestimated his age.
Ryoma tossed another shirt over his shoulder. Tezuka collected it up off the ground and carefully folded it. He was wondering if maybe the presence of a working television in the house had somehow fried the bioroid’s AI, despite the fact that they’d hardly watched it at all. “Why are you looking anyway?”
“Bored.”
“And messing up my closet isn’t boring?” He collected up another discarded garment.
Ryoma smirked. “It gets an amusing reaction.”
Whoever programmed the AI must have been a sadist. Tezuka was convinced.
The rest of the day proceeded in a very similar manner. Tezuka was privately cursing Oshitari for giving the bioroid such ideas. It started to grow late, and he felt his eyelids drooping. Ryoma’s burst of activity was actually quite tiring for him, especially as he was mentally cataloguing every action and trying to figure out the pattern of logic at work in the AI.
“Heh, bed time,” Ryoma said, prodding him back towards the bedroom.
“It’s not-” Tezuka started to protest. He wanted to get at least some work done.
“My new directive,” Ryoma quoted loftily. “That Oshitari guy said that I had to make sure you sleep. So you’re going to sleep. Put on your pyjamas.”
Tezuka complied, if only to avoid the potential badgering. Ryoma looked away, which Tezuka found a bit strange, but supposed that the AI had picked up on the habit from him – the bioroid certainly wouldn’t have learnt modesty in his previous occupation. When that was done, Ryoma started herding him towards the bed. “I’ll tuck you in.” It was said in a laughing manner, and Tezuka was sure that he was being mocked.
“I’m quite capable of putting myself to bed, thank you,” he replied, catching Ryoma’s hand and sitting on the bedspread. He jerked the arm forward, and Ryoma leant down, a questioning look on his face. Tezuka held his gaze, softening his expression. Golden eyes widened slightly as Tezuka drew the bioroid close, and his hand slid on to his shoulder…
Tezuka pressed the cylinder to the back of Ryoma’s neck. The bioroid suddenly slumped, and he caught the deadweight against his chest.
“Good try,” he murmured, standing and sweeping a hand under Ryoma’s knees and carrying his limp body back to the living room.
“You tricked me!” he hissed. “That was dirty!”
“I think you were the one trying to pull a trick. Did you really think I’d forget?”
“Che. Couldn’t you just lock me in a room instead or something?” he bargained.
“The mere fact that you suggested it means that you probably have some way of escaping that.”
“I already promised not to escape!”
“Given that you’ve spent the entire day playing up a caretaker routine in an elaborate ploy to avoid having your motor functions powered down for the night, you’ll understand that I don’t place a lot of faith in your honesty.”
“I didn’t think robots could lie,” Ryoma quipped.
“I think you’ve proven yourself to be an exception in plenty of other ways as far as robots are concerned. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were missing all of the normal industry-imposed restraints.” Tezuka carefully placed the bioroid on the couch, and fetched the blanket from the floor.
Ryoma’s face twisted into a scowl when it appeared that neither his plan nor any amount of cajoling would get his motor functions restored. “I could have just poisoned your dinner.”
Tezuka was tempted to make a comment about the robot’s choice of diet, but in the end, just flicked the light off. “Good night, Ryoma.”
Author: Sinnatious
Summary: TezRyo Robot AU.
Rating: Definitely Mature. For the usual culprits.
Author’s Note: Hopping around the countryside this week, so there won't be another update until next weekend.
_____________________________
Technoromanticism
Chapter 5.0
By Sinnatious
_____________________________
The beeping persisted, a high repeating tone that echoed though the apartment. There was a moment’s pause, and then impatient knocking.
“Answer the door already! It’s annoying!” Ryoma yelled from the living room.
Tezuka stumbled to the door and opened it, fumbling with his glasses. “Oshitari. Good morning.” Belatedly, he remembered to flick on a light, then immediately winced at the brightness.
The well-groomed lawyer merely raised an eyebrow. “And I thought you were an early-riser type, Tezuka.”
Tezuka didn’t bother with a response, holding open the door so that Oshitari could make his way inside, laden down with bags. “Your assistant?”
“In for an upgrade.”
“Hey!” A voice called from the living room. “If you’re awake-”
“Coming,” Tezuka said tiredly. He shuffled into the living room, then returned to the kitchen with dishevelled Ryoma in tow. Oshitari raised an eyebrow.
“This is-?”
“Yes,” Tezuka replied. “Ryoma, this is Oshitari. He’s been providing us with our supplies.”
Ryoma eyed the lawyer suspiciously. “Did you bring something to fix the TV?”
The slightest of smirks playing on his lips, Oshitari withdrew a black set-top box from one of his bags. “It just plugs into the wall, and then-”
Ryoma snatched it away impatiently and headed towards the living room. “I know how it works.”
Tezuka sent a concerned glance, but Oshitari waved it off. “Don’t worry – it’s shielded to only accept incoming signals. But make sure it doesn’t get cracked open – you could make something out of the parts.”
“Thank you.” At least with the television there would be something to occupy Ryoma. There was a burst of noise from the next room.
“He’s certainly a work of art,” Oshitari commented, and then added. “Not that I would know anything about that.”
Tezuka didn’t comment. Sometimes he sort of wished he could pretend ignorance the way Oshitari did.
Ryoma appeared back in the kitchen wearing a satisfied expression. “It works.”
“Obviously,” Oshitari drawled.
Tezuka finished putting the last of the groceries away. “Did Atobe give you any messages?”
“Nothing, but he wanted to know how you were doing. We can still get Inui to drop by.”
“I already told him I was fine,” Tezuka replied.
“You’ve been here for four days without seeing another person,” Oshitari pointed out.
“I’ve been here,” Ryoma stated petulantly.
“You hardly count. He’s probably overworking himself.”
Ryoma folded his arms. “Yeah. He should take a break, and stop poking and prodding me all day long.” These words were punctuated with a glare.
“I haven’t poked or prodded you for the past two days,” Tezuka replied tersely.
“And then he stays up late working on that laptop,” Ryoma reported, clearly seeing a chance to get some mild form of revenge.
“Oh ho?” Oshitari adjusted his glasses. “Interesting. Very well then, consider this your new directive – make sure that Tezuka eats and sleeps regularly.”
Ryoma’s grin was positively evil. He had the feeling that Oshitari had just given Ryoma permission to do something very unpleasant indeed. “He’s not a caretaker bot,” Tezuka protested.
“No, but he’s here and you need one,” Oshitari retorted smoothly. Turning back to Ryoma, he added, “While you’re at it, you might see if you can also get him to stop wearing those hideous purple shirts.”
Tezuka frowned. “They’re lavender.”
Ryoma smirked. “I like them.”
“It’s a good thing I bought your clothes then. I’d hate to see what you’d be wearing otherwise.”
“Then you can buy me some proper underwear,” Ryoma grumbled.
Tezuka opened his mouth to ask, but then thought better of it. He thought he could guess. “Oshitari, I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t make my job any more difficult than it already is.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Inui had said that Oshitari was the Fuji of management, but Tezuka hadn’t really believed him until then. “Oshitari.”
“Of course, Tezuka. I’ll be on my way then,” he replied smoothly. He patted Ryoma on the shoulder in farewell. “You’re certainly an interesting bioroid.”
“I’m human.”
Oshitari smiled indulgently. “Of course you are. Until next time, Tezuka.”
They didn’t speak again until Oshitari had left and the door was firmly closed behind him.
“Heeeeeh, so you are a workaholic. Figured.”
“Wouldn’t you rather be watching the TV now that it’s working?” Tezuka asked tiredly. He knew he should be spending his time investigating the AI more thoroughly, but sleep was still fogging his brain. Oshitari did have a point – he hadn’t been sleeping regularly at all. There were a lot of thoughts keeping him awake at night, and Ryoma would make a racket if he left him immobile for too long.
“Oh, but I have a new directive now,” he quoted blandly.
Tezuka suddenly had a very bad feeling about how the rest of his day would proceed.
His instincts proved to be uncannily accurate.
Ryoma insisted on cooking breakfast, lunch and dinner. Although the term ‘cooking’ was a very loose description of what he was doing, as breakfast was cereal, lunch was burgers – thrown into the microwave, not even grilled – and dinner was burgers again. He wouldn’t let him even power up his laptop either, dragging him in front of the television to ‘relax’, which was more boring than relaxing as there wasn’t that much on and Tezuka honestly found staring contests with Ryoma more interesting. Ryoma seemed to share that opinion, so promptly abandoned it and decided to go through his entire wardrobe instead.
“You dress like an old man,” he announced as he rifled through the closet.
“I thought you said you liked my shirts,” Tezuka replied levelly.
“I do. But you don’t own a single pair of jeans. What are you, forty?”
“I dress appropriately for my position,” he replied stiffly. He was definitely not affronted by the fact that a bioroid had vastly overestimated his age.
Ryoma tossed another shirt over his shoulder. Tezuka collected it up off the ground and carefully folded it. He was wondering if maybe the presence of a working television in the house had somehow fried the bioroid’s AI, despite the fact that they’d hardly watched it at all. “Why are you looking anyway?”
“Bored.”
“And messing up my closet isn’t boring?” He collected up another discarded garment.
Ryoma smirked. “It gets an amusing reaction.”
Whoever programmed the AI must have been a sadist. Tezuka was convinced.
The rest of the day proceeded in a very similar manner. Tezuka was privately cursing Oshitari for giving the bioroid such ideas. It started to grow late, and he felt his eyelids drooping. Ryoma’s burst of activity was actually quite tiring for him, especially as he was mentally cataloguing every action and trying to figure out the pattern of logic at work in the AI.
“Heh, bed time,” Ryoma said, prodding him back towards the bedroom.
“It’s not-” Tezuka started to protest. He wanted to get at least some work done.
“My new directive,” Ryoma quoted loftily. “That Oshitari guy said that I had to make sure you sleep. So you’re going to sleep. Put on your pyjamas.”
Tezuka complied, if only to avoid the potential badgering. Ryoma looked away, which Tezuka found a bit strange, but supposed that the AI had picked up on the habit from him – the bioroid certainly wouldn’t have learnt modesty in his previous occupation. When that was done, Ryoma started herding him towards the bed. “I’ll tuck you in.” It was said in a laughing manner, and Tezuka was sure that he was being mocked.
“I’m quite capable of putting myself to bed, thank you,” he replied, catching Ryoma’s hand and sitting on the bedspread. He jerked the arm forward, and Ryoma leant down, a questioning look on his face. Tezuka held his gaze, softening his expression. Golden eyes widened slightly as Tezuka drew the bioroid close, and his hand slid on to his shoulder…
Tezuka pressed the cylinder to the back of Ryoma’s neck. The bioroid suddenly slumped, and he caught the deadweight against his chest.
“Good try,” he murmured, standing and sweeping a hand under Ryoma’s knees and carrying his limp body back to the living room.
“You tricked me!” he hissed. “That was dirty!”
“I think you were the one trying to pull a trick. Did you really think I’d forget?”
“Che. Couldn’t you just lock me in a room instead or something?” he bargained.
“The mere fact that you suggested it means that you probably have some way of escaping that.”
“I already promised not to escape!”
“Given that you’ve spent the entire day playing up a caretaker routine in an elaborate ploy to avoid having your motor functions powered down for the night, you’ll understand that I don’t place a lot of faith in your honesty.”
“I didn’t think robots could lie,” Ryoma quipped.
“I think you’ve proven yourself to be an exception in plenty of other ways as far as robots are concerned. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were missing all of the normal industry-imposed restraints.” Tezuka carefully placed the bioroid on the couch, and fetched the blanket from the floor.
Ryoma’s face twisted into a scowl when it appeared that neither his plan nor any amount of cajoling would get his motor functions restored. “I could have just poisoned your dinner.”
Tezuka was tempted to make a comment about the robot’s choice of diet, but in the end, just flicked the light off. “Good night, Ryoma.”
Ryoma just swore in response.
