Broken Toys (A Robo Fizz Romance) (18+)

Chapter Four: Lights Out

Samara jerked awake out of a nightmare, and promptly smacked her forehead into something hard and metal.

"Ow what the hell did I—AHHH! FIZZ WHAT THE FUCK?!"

Perched on her bed and on top of her like a comfy housecat was Robo Fizz, peering down at her with the most serious expression she'd seen on him so far. She didn't think twice before grabbing up her heftiest pillow and swinging it with all her might, knocking him off onto the floor.

"Hey!! What the h-hell was that for, Sammy?!"

He popped back up and rubbed his cheek, glaring daggers at his host.

An indignant squeak came from Samara, who had darkened to the shade of a lovely beet.

"What do you mean? You're in my room on top of me in my bed! What are you doing you-you pervert?!"

She gathered up the covers around her, heart hammering in her chest and feeling hot and flustered and breathing hard. It was just the embarrassment, she told herself.

Robo Fizz shrugged.

"I mean, you're not wroooong!"

He giggled maniacally, then just as fast that eerie serious face was back.

"Well you were yelling in your sleep, sooo-o I came to see what was wrong. I just wa-wasn't sure if I should wake you or not."

Her pointed ears drooped and she tugged her tail between her hands guiltily.

"Oh...oh wow I'm sorry you heard that. Was I, um, saying anything in particular?"

He shook his head.

"Nope not really, just s-something about n-not being able to breathe. Part of me thought you'd just auto-erotically asphyxiated y-yourself. I mean I've had clients who— anyway. You didn't sound like you were having f-fun."

Instinctively, Samara's hands flew to her throat to clutch and feel around before she could stop herself. It was fine, there was no fabric, no woman's evil laughter, no problem. She was safe in her bed. She was still in Hell and with a crazy robotic clown in her room, but still fairly safe comparatively.

"I...yeah, maybe. I don't know....I haven't had that particular dream in a long time."

He gazed at her almost sympathetically.

"I know what you mean. I've started-d dreaming about the pa-ark burning, and about being sw-allowed alive by that stupid pet. I'm fine, it's just..."

he flicked his gaze down, picking at a piece of loose fuzz in her rug with his fingers.

"...disturbing."

After a few moments of her watching him quietly, her eyes full of unasked questions, he got up and stretched, sparking a little and glitching out slightly when he did so. It lit up the room like miniature flashes of lightning, and Samara was again glad that somehow he hadn't set anything on fire.

"Wwwwell! I'm gonna go get a bit more shuteye. Yyouu should t-too..."

he made to leave but was jerked to a stop by a small, soft hand slipping into his and holding him there. He looked back to see Samara staring at their hands with just as much surprise as he was. "Yeah babe?" He tried to keep it light by poking at her with another nickname. She didn't seem to take any notice, and he didn't pull his hand away first.