Notes:
You can’t keep a good chaos gremlin down. ^_^
ROWAN
Rowan had gotten far more caught up in researching his surge protector than he’d expected, causing him to work far later than expected too in order to get another prototype finished in time. He definitely needed a more experienced engineer’s help to figure out how whatever had happened to Milo had happened at all, which meant he was going to have to admit the truth when they went to see Troy.
Eventually, more people would end up knowing because he couldn’t hide forever that a bot had… awakened? Grown a soul? Become alive? However he wanted to think of it, this was only going to stay their secret for so long, and while Milo could partially hide how he had changed, he was bound to screw up more than with just slips of pronouns like he’d done around Ethel.
Milo was also clearly becoming more bold if his attempted seduction was any indication.
That had not been easy to resist, but Rowan had stayed strong, and maybe focused on the surge protector that much more intensely because of it as a way to avoid Milo and not give in later like he’d wanted to. Instead, he had fallen asleep at his worktable, and Milo had woken him to help him to bed.
As Rowan started to rouse, fading in and out of conscienceless but fairly certain his alarm hadn’t gone off, he recalled Milocurling around him like when he used to order the bot to, only now no orders were needed, because Milo wanted to hold Rowan. Milo had chosen to do it.
Would he still want to hold Rowan once he discovered more about his new self?
Annoyed that he was partially awake at all when it was clearly too early to be so on a Saturday, Rowan clutched around his middle in search of Milo’s arms.
Which weren’t there.
Because Milo wasn’t there!
Rowan snapped fully awake as if his alarmhadgone off, but it was barely six-thirty, and on Saturdays, he didn’t set an alarm. No, the reason he had started to rouse at all was the stark absence of Milo’s warmth.
Milo, who was alive, like a real, thinking,feelingperson.
And who was apparently in the kitchen making a racket.
Rowan leapt out of bed, padding swiftly toward the commotion, barefoot and still only in sleep pants. Milo being able to think and feel for himself was incredible, a miracle, but what the hell was he doing at six-thirty in the morning? He’d done the same thing yesterday, but during the week, early rising was expected. Rowan opened his mouth to ask as soon as he reached the doorway, only for what he discovered to stop him in his tracks.
There was flour everywhere, and was that some sort of batter on the ceiling?
“Oh!” Milo spun around as if having sensed Rowan’s presence. He was also covered in flour, which was a little difficult to see against his nearly white hair and pale skin, but upon closer inspection, it was as if a bag of flour had literally exploded in his face. And all over his bare chest. And dusting his pert pink nipples.
And lower.
“Did I wake you?”
“Why are you naked?” Rowan asked.
“I’m not—” Milo paused as he glanced down. “Oh! I am! I didn’t want to get flour on my clothing, but it seemed to have a mind of its own. I really like that phrase!” He looked up at Rowan with an almost manic expression. “Mind of its own? Inanimate objects really do have that sometimes, don’t they? So I kept taking articles of clothing off as I worked, but the mess kept expanding anyway and—”
A ding sounded from the oven, and Milo spun back around to attend to it—naked, narrow waist and perfectly heart-shaped behind on display as he hurried over and bent to remove whatever he was baking. The sunburst of his lightning scars was like a classic tramp stamp tattoo in a way, begging for a little heart or butterfly to be inked on the empty space where Rowan had replaced the damaged tissue.
Milo’s discarded clothing was unceremoniously scattered around the kitchen. His underwear and T-shirt had been left presumably right where Milo had dropped them, while his sleep pants hung haphazardly off the knob of a cabinet. There were various ingredients out besides the bag of flour, along with dirty utensils and bowls. Rowan didn’t think he had ever seen such an impressive mess, even in cleaning product or paper towel commercials where a toddler had run amuck.
The smell that assaulted him when Milo pulled the baking sheet from the oven was… chemical? Not particularly appetizing, and yet the golden-looking pastries appeared just about perfect at a glance. Lightly salted and fresh from the oven, despite the odd smell, the sight of the soft-baked pretzels immediately made Rowan’s mouth water.
But Milo usually cleaned while he worked, keeping everything pristine. Never had he made a mess like this in all the months that Rowan had owned him—employed him? Would he need tostart paying Milo now if the bot decided to stay and was still basically his servant?
Questions for after coffee. Definitely.
“They are one of your favorite things to eat, yes? Any baked good, but soft pretzels has been in your top five most requested items for indulgence, so I wanted to surprise you with some as a special breakfast. I originally wanted to make apple pie, but we did not have apples. To show you my, um… appreciation? Yes, I think that’s it. Would you like one, Rowan?” Milo whirled around once more with that same manic expression and flourished a gesture toward the tray of pretzels cooling on the stovetop.
Unprecedented did not come close to describing the situation, but Milo was trying while treading these unfamiliar waters. Rowan didn’t want to discourage him. “Sure, Milo. But maybe put your underwear back on?”
“Oh! Of course!”
