[Fanfic: Are You Human, Too?] Compatible

ONE

A/N: As a disclaimer, this piece is 100% self-indulgent and written for maximum fluff factor, so please forgive me for glossing over so much. The last few episodes had me feeling some intense dread over the happily-ever-after status for this couple, so I wrote something to counteract that angst. Stylistically, this is different from my other one-shot (which is going to turn into a series of one-shots because self-control is hard) and will be a two-parter: this one is set during episode 14 (pre-trauma), and the next part will be set after the last episode.

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It started from an innocent comment, one spoken breezily as an aside while he sat nearby polishing a boxing glove. Although Nam Shin III's view of the women was obstructed by the corner, the gym with its high ceilings and open areas did little to muffle either Kang So Bong's voice or her friend's raucous laughter and teasing jabs. Reporter Jo, in particular, spoke in a conspicuously loud voice, all but ensuring that any human-much less a robot designed with excellent auditory perception in mind-would hear the topic of their conversation.

"How does it even work with you two-you know, you and him?"

A long suffering sigh. "What are you going on about now?"

Reporter Jo spoke again, this time heavily stressing her words. "You know, relationships need compatibility." Her voice pitched an octave higher, and he sensed that it was for the benefit of his attention. "Can you really be compatible with a robot?"

Shin dragged a wet cloth against the glove and considered it himself. It certainly was a justifiable question. Based on popular media alone, interactions between humans and robots often played out contentiously, and relationships-however intense but fleeting-ended poorly for all parties involved. He cycled through a series of video clips. Terminator T-800's farewell from within a vat of molten steel. An Iron Giant's missile interception and his ensuing explosion. A creator's death at the hands of his loved creation. (All unlikely scenarios for So Bong and himself. He was neither a time-traveling agent nor a military-grade weapon, and she also was not his creator.) He continued cleaning the glove.

So Bong's response was muffled-most likely spoken in hushed tones in consideration of those who might be listening in (her father. his pupils. him.), but he caught a portion that gave him pause:

"I guess, sometimes I think it wouldn't be so bad if we were more like lovers."

Like lovers? he wondered. Shin knew by definition that their romantic relationship already labeled them as lovers, but it was a decidedly curious desire, to wish to be more of something. What did it mean to be more like lovers?

Was it a matter of how many times one held hands? (49.) Of the time spent together? (7776024 seconds.) Or kisses? (3.) On the lips? (2.)

Did she wish to increase the frequency of those events? Or perhaps the duration? From a linguistic standpoint, he recognized the viability of either scenario and the possibility that it was an entirely different matter involving other interactions. Idly, he cycled through a series of forum posts, rewording and fine-tuning his search all the while. He chose to echo her sentiments and settled for a simple question: "How do I treat my girlfriend more like a lover?"

Apparently, such a question was one that plagued human men as well, given the sheer number of posts that emerged, some matching his search nearly word-for-word. It took a scant minute for him to read through responses across 64 websites before he settled for one that was particularly well liked by others, involved a reasonable number of suggestions, and-most importantly-consisted of several options listed by increasing degree of intimacy. He filed the list away, added two flags to denote its significance, and continued working in earnest until a waving hand entered the periphery of his vision.