Summary: A brief glimpse into the unusual life of Earthman Alexander and his Spacer partner R. William (the "R" stands for robot).
Disclaimer: Don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer characters or any of Isaac Asimov's novels. No copyright infringement is intended. I wrote this for fun, not profit.
AN: Written for fall_for_sx. This is the result of reading a few chapters of Isaac Asimov's The Caves of Steel while still trying to come up with Spandery fic ideas in the back of my mind. You don't need to have read any of Asimov's books in order to understand this fic. Also, in this fic I go the farthest and most graphic I've ever gone with a sexy scene (some may say it's tame, but not for me!), so please let me know what you honestly think about it.
Plainclothesman Alexander Harris sighed, sank down onto the couch dominating his sparse ten by twelve living room (he seriously needed to get married soon so that he could apply for a considerably larger Couples apartment - maybe he should ask that girl Anya who took tickets at the community kitchen), then let his head drop down into his upraised palms. Today had been a bad day. A really bad day. Alexander and his partner had been called up to help sort out a total of two riots, both of which had taken place outside of retail departments. The riots themselves hadn't been particularly nasty; Alexander, along with the number of other law enforcers who had been ordered to the scenes, had managed to break up the chaos with only a few broken bones and blaster burns to speak of once it was all over. The real problem was what the riots had in common - both the shoe store and tobacco store the violent crowds had congregated outside of had recently replaced their human clerks with robots.
Robots were the problem.
Alexander rubbed at his itchy eyes with the heels of his palms. He was admittedly young - only 23 years old - and relatively inexperienced when it came to police work, but he knew enough to doubt Earth's compliance when it came to the Spacers (those snotty humans who lived on the Outer Worlds and bullied Earthlings, whom they considered grossly inferior, into doing their bidding with their superior technology) and their plan to integrate robots more fully into Earth society. The plan was called Project C/Fe. C for carbon based humans, Fe for iron based robots and that little diagonal line in the middle to represent 'a mixture of the two, without priority' or some ridiculous shit like that. All the plan was going to result in was more annoying robots, less jobs for Earthmen, and an escalation of tension that would ultimately turn into a war. Alexander thought that maybe Earth should have just saved time and trouble and said no to Project C/Fe in the first place - no matter what anyone said or did, there was a war waiting just around the corner.
"Fucking see fee," he spat. He deliberately dragged the phrase out so that is sounded wrong. Incorrect pronunciation and thinking of the project name in an incorrect way was an infinitesimally small slight, but one nonetheless. It made him feel just a little bit better.
Alexander stopped rubbing his eyes. He spread his fingers so that he could see through the gaps and was staring morosely down at a spot of the thin, gray carpeting that ran the entire length of his apartment when he heard the front door slide smoothly open. He didn't look up. Only emergency personnel or robots would be able to bypass an apartment's lock. Alexander hadn't reported an emergency, and he knew only one robot who would actually have the nerve to break into his living space without even bothering to ring the doorbell first. "Will," he said. "What the hell are you doing here?"
He heard movement - Will moving over to the control knob, no doubt - and then a very soft light flooded the previously completely darkened apartment. Alexander still didn't look up. He knew the light had revealed his Bachelor apartment. The living room with its two-seater couch and the gleaming screen of the trimension that was set into the wall opposite his couch, the tiny 'kitchen' area with the table that folded in and out of the wall, the single open-air door directly behind the couch that led to the small bedroom.
"Spike," said William.
And Alexander did look up at that. "What?" he asked.
"Spike, love. Call me Spike."
The plainclothesman put his arms up into the air and stretched, then let himself fall back into a comfortable sprawl. "Why would I do that?" he questioned, genuinely curious about just what was going on in William's mind this time. Only a few months ago his partner had insisted on the more friendly nickname 'Will', now this?
"Been watching this set of ol' book-films and-" started the robot, but Alexander cut him off before he could gain any steam.
"Fine," he agreed. "Spike it is." It was best not to question the robot much when it came to any decisions of his that involved book-films. He worshiped the things and could go on about them for hours. Spike wasn't that bad of a name at any rate. It was a little strange, but Alexander thought it suited his partner. "Spike," he said, just to get the feel of the name on his tongue. He grinned at his partner, and when the newly dubbed Spike actually leered back at him he wasn't even a little surprised.
Spike the robot had been called R. William when Alexander first met him. R. William was one of the new and improved incredibly advanced machines that looked startlingly human; he was one of the fresh and incredibly rare model of robot that was supposed to lead the front line when it came to accomplishing the goals of Project C/Fe (whatever those actual goals might be). Six months before, at the official start of the Spacer project, R. William had been assigned to the City Police Department, trained and ready for duty. Alexander, who was a rookie now and who had been even more green then, had had the pleasure of being told his partner for the foreseeable future was going to be a glorified heating plate.
It had only taken a short while of working with him for Alexander to realize that the robot really wasn't all that bad. He was an asshole, sure. But he was an asshole like a human might be an asshole. He wasn't some emotionless toaster unwilling to break procedure no matter what the situation. Spike was different from other robots; he was different from Spacers in general. And Alexander trusted him implicitly.
"Shove over." Spike pushed Alexander's thigh out of his way and sat down. The soft cushions of the couch sagged under their combined weight. They were lined up so that one side of their bodies touched all the way down, from shoulder to foot. Alexander gazed at the artificially platinum hair atop his robot partner's head. It was slicked back as usual.
"I've been thinking about getting married," commented the plainclothesman when the silence in the apartment got to be too much. "Maybe to that girl Anya. She's pretty, don't you think?"
Spike didn't hesitate before answering. "She's a demon."
Alexander blinked. He was used to the strange way the robot tended to treat him; Spike seemed to have a glitch that caused him to act like Alexander was his property rather than his partner. Still, the Earthman hadn't ever heard the platinum blond actually insult someone Alexander was interested in - he hadn't thought it was possible for the robot to insult humans.
"What...?" He sat for a moment in stunned silence before managing to continue. "Did you just...? Are you jealous or something?" Alexander was pretty sure that robots couldn't get jealous - however, Spike was about as far away from being a run of the mill robot as it was possible to be.
Spike shifted on the couch. He looked uncomfortable. "Just tellin' the truth," he answered. "That bint's a demon. Horns on her head, glowy red eyes - that whole business."
It was Alexander's turn to shift. He felt the black leather of Spike's duster create a warm friction against the bare skin of his right arm. "What are you doing here, William?" He was unsure how he felt about Spike's shot at Anya, so thought a change of subject was called for. "Did you need something?"
"So you're serious, then?" Spike plowed on as if he hadn't even heard the questions. "You really like that Anya chit?" The robot appeared genuinely upset at the idea.
“I'm not going to actually marry her anytime soon, Will.” In one quick motion Alexander stood and made his way over to the kitchen area. “But, yeah. I like her enough that I'm thinking of asking her to do something...social with me.” He rolled his shoulders to relieve some of the tension and pain that had settled in his back, and silently wished that he hadn't mentioned Anya to Spike.
While he usually enjoyed the fact that his partner didn't have strict programming, the Spacer was taking the throw away comment about the ticket girl at the community kitchen a little too oddly. And Alexander didn't want to deal with a broody robot just then – he was already too tense and worried himself about the recent riots. He was already nervous enough thinking about what chaos he and his partner might have to deal with the next day at work.
“You can do better than her,” the Spacer said suddenly.
Alexander folded the table and a stool out of the wall. He pointedly ignored Spike, who was still sitting on the small couch and watching the Earthman with a straight face and unblinking eyes. The plainclothesman pondered what to order. Today was chicken Tuesday in the kitchen, but he was pretty sure he had a vegetable meal credit in his bedroom.
“You can do better, Alexander Harris,” repeated Spike. And this time he sounded so unlike himself and so like a robot – like he had actually asked himself the question and calculated the answer - that Alexander spun around and looked at him with wide eyes.
“Oh yeah?” the plainclothesman asked, his voice shaking a little. He didn't like the way William was acting – maybe he should call the station and report the robot's strange behavior. “Like who?” he asked. “Who could I do better with, Will?”
And that's when Spike stood from the couch, strode confidently over to Alexander, and kissed him full on the mouth. Alexander managed a squeaky sound of surprise and immediately attempted to pull away. However, the robot seemed to have anticipated that and had placed one inhumanly strong hand to cup the back of the Earthman's head, one to grasp at the Earthman's hip. He was holding Alexander in place; trapping him between the edge of the kitchen table and his own body.
And soon Alexander noticed that the lips against his were not cold like he might have expected, but warm. Spike was warm. That little fact was interesting enough that Alexander's mind stopped to ponder it as his body stopped fighting. Before he really knew what was happening Alexander was actually leaning into the robot's kiss, was opening his mouth to the robot's probing tongue.
“Ugh.” Alexander breathed the inarticulate sound into Spike's mouth as he felt the strong hand cupping the back of his scull disappear only to reemerge snaked under his shirt, somewhere near his belly button. Spike started to caress him there, his pale hand flat against Alexander's stomach as it trailed slowly lower.
When Alexander felt himself start to harden he jerked away from the robot's mouth, breathing hard. He leaned his head back so he was staring at the ceiling and tried for a moment to ignore the possessive hand on his hip, the other hand working on unbuttoning his pants. “Spike,” he managed to pant. “Spike...” He was going to protest, going to tell the Spacer to stop. Because this was wrong. What they were doing was very wrong.
But before Alexander could manage to form any coherent words Spike's tongue was in his mouth again, and Spike's hand was shoving its way determinedly into Alexander's pants, into his briefs and then...God.
That inhumanly strong hand was grasping Alexander's hard length and working it. Spike's hand was a tight fit in the Earthman's pants so his fingers were wrapped extra tightly around Alexander's penis, beating out a quick, steady rhythm. Up. Down. Up. Down. Squeeze.
And that's all it took. For a moment all Alexander knew was bright, white light and yes yes yes. And all thoughts of riots and wars and work had flown out the window and all there was was Spike. And then he found himself back with Spike, his back digging into the edge of the kitchen table and his head resting on the robot's shoulder. He could feel that his work pants were damp with his own pleasure, could feel that the robot still had his hand shoved down said work pants and his fingers wrapped loosely around Alexander's now limp member. The only sound in the apartment was Alexander's quick breathing and the steady whir of the ventilation duct.
“Me,” Spike said. “You can do better with me.”
Alexander decided to believe him. Robots didn't make mistakes, after all.
“You know,” Alexander commented once he had caught his breath. “I honestly don't think this is the kind of thing the Spacers were aiming for when they started Project C/Fe.”
“No,” Spike agreed, pulling him into a tighter embrace. “Prob'ly not.”