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Blueberry Universe Shorts

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M4-6G1 rolled over onto her back and stretched out all four limbs to give Damian optimal access to her control panel.

“Good girl,” Damian told her, lifting the plate that protected the sensitive wiring and computer chips from damage with the end of a specialty screw driver. He slotted the tip directly into the battery socket and counted to fifteen, waiting for the series of three small lights on her head unit to go completely dark.

As he did, he felt the frame under his hands go rigid as the magnets holding her together locked into place, effectively turning her into a statue. Satisfied she was entirely shut down, he removed the tip of his screwdriver and returned it to his tool kit.

“What are you doing?”

Damian almost started at the sound of Christopher’s voice close behind him, and twisted around to see his…Captain? Lover? He wasn’t sure yet, sitting behind him on the futon.

“Maintanence,” he replied. “M4-6G1’s back legs have been a half second behind her front ones in her gait cycle when she runs. I think it might just be some stripped wires rubbing together.”

“And you decided to do this in my living room?”

Damian shrugged. “The last time I let the goblins down in Engineering see my robots they wanted to take 4R-50N apart to see what I used as a propellant,” he replied.

He turned back to M4-6G1 and began disassembling the plating over her back hips and lower abdomen, exposing the sensitive wires and nodes that operated, among other things, each of the twelve servos per hind leg, plus the tail for stability and the hips and individual vertibrae in the spine.

Using a pair of repurposed surgical tweezers, he gently picked his way through wires and nodes, mentally listing off what each powered and controlled. So engrossed in his task, he didn’t realise Christopher had slid down from the futon until strong arms wrapped around his waist and lifted him into his lap.

“I’m busy,” he said.

“I won’t bother you,” Christopher promised, hooking his chin over Damian’s shoulder. “Captain’s honour.”

Damian snorted and paused in his work, waiting for Christopher to move his hands or try to move his attention from M4-6G1’s inner mechanics. When he didn’t, Damian moved a bundle of wires that connected the lower section of vertebrae to the lithium core and spotted a burnt node and a series of stripped wires.

As he reached for the anchoring for the network, Christopher’s lips pressed against the angle of his jaw.

“Do you mind?” Damian asked, though his tone lacked any bite.

Christopher only hummed, smiling against Damian’s skin.

Quickly, Damian realised that every time he moved then so did Christopher. The older man’s hands had slid under his shirt, one keeping pressure on his lower abdomen while the other made the slow climb up his chest, fingers tracing patterns over his ribs.

Christopher’s lips peppered along his jaw, down the exposed line of his neck and against the base of his skull. Every so often he stopped and pressed distinctly smug smiles against Damian’s skin.

“Captain’s honour my arse,” Damian muttered, almost ripping the damaged node and wires from their anchors when Christopher pressed his lips against a particularly sensitive spot behind his ear and hummed.

He set the damaged parts aside, then twisted in Christopher’s lap and shoved him bodily back against the futon. “You are a pest, Christopher Pike,” he stated. “A pest.”

“I was letting you work!” Christopher insisted, grinning wide, hands still under Damian’s shirt as they traced patterns up his back.

Damian rolled his eyes and kissed him, almost smiling as Christopher groaned against his lips and leaned into the kiss.

M4-6G1’s internal structure could wait until morning, he decided. Anyway, he’d never get anything done now.