My Diggy Diggy One Shots

*Whir*

For the wonderful RissKirkland. I hope this is okay. I did a little bit of research for Steampunk related writing prompts, and one that came up was " Write a piece (as long as you want) about an automaton who falls in love with its creator." So I hope this is alright. I read a Parvill a while ago about Strife having Steampunk clothes that Parv found. . . I don't know. If you want me to write something else, I can. I really like Parvill.

TW: Automaton (cyborg) Will. Suggestive themes.

“Hello Parvis. You’re up early today.”

I nod, trying to rub the sleep out of my eyes. “Yea,” I trail off, giving my head a sharp shake.

“What are we doing today?”

“Uh, I don’t know. What do you want to do?” I look at Will, the sound of his cogs whirring making me feel sleepy. I feel my eyelids start to droop, blinking a few times. Will stands in front of me, a questioning look at his face. “What?”
“Maybe you should go lay back down,” He suggests.

I shake my head. “No, I’m awake. Promise.” He laughs, a laugh that isn’t quite human.

“No, you look like you’re going to pass out at any moment.”

“But what about you?”

He nudges me in the direction of my room, my bed looking warm and inviting. “I’ll sit here and wait for you to wake up.” I crawl into bed, asleep before my head hits the pillow.

~

The first thing I notice when I wake up is Will. He sits in my gaming chair, turned away from the computer to face me. He stares at me with such a level of intensity that I want to hit myself for not wearing a clean shirt or combing my hair.

“What time is it?”
“Nearly noon.” I nod, swinging my feet around to dangle off the bed. The floor is cold under my feet, squeaking with every step I take.

“Let’s go do something.”

“What do you have in mind?”

I shrug, heading through the old house down into the basement where I built Strife. I make my way through the maze of machines and spare parts, walking over to the main computer that holds all of Strife’s data.

Typing in a code, I frown at the screen. “Strife, what’s this?” Not getting a response, I turn around to find I’m alone. “Strife? Where did you go?”

I wander around my basement, wondering where my automaton went. It isn’t like him to wander away like this.

I find him upstairs in the kitchen, making me scrambled eggs. “Strife? What the hell? You followed me downstairs, what are you doing up here?”

He doesn’t say anything, scraping the eggs onto a plate while the toaster pops up to reveal two slices of golden brown bread. I watch as he moves around the kitchen, grabbing jam from the refrigerator and smearing it on my toast. I don’t move or say anything until he has set the plate down on the table, a glass of orange juice accompanying it.

“I made you breakfast, even though it is lunch time.” I nod a thanks, sitting down and digging in.

We don’t say anything as I eat, Will sitting across from me, ready to jump up and get me whatever I need.

When I’m finished eating and the dishes are taken care of, I turn to Will. “Did you look at your scan this morning?” He nods, not looking at me. “Did you notice anything new or different?” Again a nod. “Were you going to tell me about it?” He shakes his head.

I huff, grabbing his hand and pulling him behind me. “You know I need to know about these things.”

Down into the basement, through the mess of parts. To the computer. Will stops when we get close, forcing me to stop. “Will,” I turn to look at him. “What do you not want me to see?”

He keeps quiet, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. I move closer to him, trying to look him in the eye. “Will, look at me.” When he refuses, I grab his chin. “Will, whatever it is, I’m sure we can fix it. But I need to know what it is.”

The machines that make up Will increase in sound, and I’m about to step back when his hand finds the small of my back, drawing me closer to him. I say nothing, not daring to breath as he brings his face close to mine.

He stops just short, our lips not quite touching. I move my hand to the back of his neck, pulling him forward. When our lips meet the whirring settles down, decreasing in sound until it is back to it’s normal quiet hum.

I pull back after a few seconds, squeezing his hand gently. “Is that what you didn’t want me to see,” I ask quietly. He nods, and I press one last kiss to his lips before stepping back.

“I’m going to have to start calling you Pichnochio.”

“Why?”

I hit a few keys on the keyboard, turning to look at Will over my shoulder. “You’re almost a real boy! All we need to do is make your nose grow every time you lie, and change your voice box so you can sing about not having strings.”

He tilts his head, his eyes glowing bright green. “Why would I sing about not having strings? I am made of machine parts.”

I laugh, turning to face him. “You know, now that you can feel love, there are a few things I would like to try, for science of course,” I add hastily, my face heating up.

Will blinks. “I don’t understand.”

I wave my hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. There are a few things that I’m going to have to add though,” I trail off, thinking. “Lay down and plug yourself into the computer. We have things to do.”