Daily Battles

First Encounter

(Y/N) watched from the vents as the human slept on the couch. He had picked the lock to get in, and went straight across the room to collapse on the couch, passing out before he even hit the pillow. He was a mess, covered in scratches, dirt, bruises and most horrifically what looked like bits of blood. Whether it was his, or someone else (Y/N) didn't know. But That wasn't even the worst part.

He had a freaking metal arm!

It looked to be more than just a simple prosthetic. The pinky finger alone could crush you! Of course it didn't take much effort to crush something only about four inches tall, but all the same the arm was scary. Rustling in his sleep, his arm flopped over the edge of the couch showing you its full leangth and size. You gulped and backed away, returning to the safety of the walls.

***day two****

Today the human had gone out to do something or another, so you took your chance, and ran out to get a bucket of water from the drippy faucet, and maybe scrounge around for some food.

No such luck was granted to you. Before you had even returned the water back home, he had come back with bags of groceries in his arms. Running behind the broken toaster, you drop the bucket as you dash to hide. It fell with a clatter in the sink, dumping the water down the drain.

You stiffened, a drop of sweat ran down your head when you hear what sounded like a gun being cocked. You were in deep trouble now. Only an idiot wouldn't be able to to find you— your breathing started coming out in short breaths.

"I'm going to die." You think panickly, as against your will, your body began to shake, and your hands tremble. There was no escape, if you ran trigger happy would blow you to bits, but if you stayed it wouldn't take much searching to find you. You crouched down, squeezing yourself as far back as you could to the corner.

You waited.

You took a deep breath.

You didn't hear anything, save for the small wish of the ceiling fan.

Then it was over.

He pushed the toaster aside and picked you up. His cool metal fist wrapping around your frame in an instant.

You were never one to go down without a fight. It took a moment for the shock to register what had happened, but when it did you immediately began to twist and thrash, beating your limbs against the hard surface, desperate for him to let go. Despite your endeavors, he didn't budge, not even a millimeter.

"H-Hey! Let me go!" Cursing your wavering voice, you look to see him smirk down at you.

"Wow, I've heard about....,but never would of believed it." He mubbles to himself, setting the gun on the counter. "Shit your tiny." His hand tightens slightly making you increase your fighting.

"Calm down half pint, I'm not going to hurt you." You doubted that very much, but before you could voice said doubts he dropped you into his other more normal hand. It was a small fall but you still let out a short gasp of fear.

"Hey! D-don't do th-that! Please!" You were actually grabbing on to the hand, terrified he would drop you again.

If you were looking up you might have seen the slight guilt on his face, but you weren't.

Pulling a chair out, he sat down and set you carefully on the table. Placing his metal arm behind you, he leaned forward, cutting off any chances of escape. With him so close, you were forced to crane your neck up to look at him. "So half pint, you got a name?" Automatically you backed away from his voice.

"I—Its (Y/N)!" You manage to squeak out. As you stumble back his metal fingers brushes your back making you jump and spin around.

"Hey, are you ok?" His voice brings you back around to gace him. He's grinning, he knows what he's doing you relalize. Glaring up at him you stubbornly refuse to say anything.

"(Y/N)...." He continues. "I think i like half pint better." He teases, poking you.

You smack the finger back, as much as you can smack a finger back. "It's not half pint, it's (Y/N)! And how about I call you...pipearm!"

It wasn't your best insult by far, but it was hard to think of something insulting when face to face with what was, compared to you, a giant. Trembling slightly your face pales as you stare up at the human waiting for his rage.

But instead of being angry he chuckles to himself, rubbing his chin.

"You remind me of someone I know. They never backed down from a fight....." He trails off. "Well my name's not pipearm, half pint, it's Bu—" he stops short and frowns. "James."

You take a deep breath. So he wasn't mad, that was good right? You look James over, from this close distance you can see small scars and cuts on his face and non-metal hand—which is still uncomfortably close to you.

"So...um." you look nervously to the edge of the table. Even if James didn't hurt or keep you, you had no way to get down. You shuffle your feet. "Can..can I, er can you let me go?" You cross your fingers waiting his answer.

"Well... alright. Im not going to keep you if that's what your worried about." You let out a huge sigh of relief. "But," You stiffen. "Settle down half pint, I was only going to offer you some food. I mean you're so thin I could snap you in two." Pushing the chair back with a scrape he stands, and tussels your hair, much to your annoyance.

You wonder if James is trying to push off your release. In all the stories you've heard about humans, most tried to keep borowers they capture like some sort of pet, or experiment. Some just get squashed without a second thought."So what do you want?" He asks looking back at you. You pull yourself from your thoughts and play along hoping not to annoy him.

"I-i'm not picky."

He comes back to the table with a small bowl of fruit. Taking out his knife he begins to peel an apple.

The knife freaks you out a little, it's bigger than you are after all, but within the minute James has the apple chopped into pieces, and hands you one. You take it and sit down, to enjoy the rare treat. You can litteraly count on one hand the number of times you've eaten apple before. As you chew some of your tension melts away, and you relax a bit.

"So, who's this guy I remind you of? Where is he?"

James frowns, his eyebrows furrowing. "It doesn't matter." He says almost coldly. You shrink a bit and let the subject die.

When you finish, James takes you back to the counter where you try to run back home, but as you dart away his hand comes in front of you. It's a good thing it was his normal arm, because you can't stop your feet in time and smack into him.

"Whoa! Sorry half pint!" He scoops you up, pinning you down on your stomach against his palm. "Let me see." He moves his thumb and lifts your face.

Your nose is throbbing slightly, but that's not what makes you freeze. James face is impossibly close, as he squints down trying to see if he's hurt you or not. A weight forms in the pit of your stomach.

"Well... I don't see any bleeding. I really didn't mean to hurt you." He says lowering you away from his face. "You forgot your... Thimble." Placing you back on the counter he hands you your bucket. "Ok you can go now." He smirks. "Try not to run into anything half pint."

"That was your fault." You grumble, stalking away back to the hole you came from.