[RadioDust] Artificial Love

Chapter 4: Friends in Low Places

The next morning, Angel woke up feeling like shit for how he'd treated Alastor the night before. Being three glasses of wine in had definitely made him overreact. He didn't know exactly how liking or disliking things worked when it came to toms, but he did know that seeing Angel so dissatisfied with him had obviously been unpleasant for Alastor too. Even if his feelings weren't real, Angel still felt guilty for hurting them.

Wondering what the tom had been doing all night, considering he didn't need to sleep, Angel headed back downstairs and quickly got his answer. The place was spotless from floor to ceiling, cleaner than Angel could even remember it being when he moved in, and he quickly caught the scent of coffee from the kitchen. As he came around the corner to the counter, he found Alastor arranging a few biscuits and pastries from the pantry on a plate. His jacket was hung on one of the barstools, his sleeves rolled up and his hair pulled back. Once again, Angel was almost painfully struck by how attractive he was—and the effect was only stronger when he looked up and smiled.

"Good morning, mon cher," he said, putting the plate down in front of Angel and leaning over the counter to plant a kiss on his cheek. Even after the disastrous way their night had ended, the blond still found himself blushing. Whatever he'd put in those parameters, his tom had turned out awfully sweet. Taking a mug from the cabinet, Alastor went on, "How do you take your coffee?"

"Oh, I can make it," Angel said, hurrying over to take it off his hands. "I mean, you've already done plenty; this place looks amazing."

"I'm glad you think so." Even though he stepped back to let Angel doctor his coffee himself, the tom still watched him do it, probably memorizing it for the future. Gesturing to the plate of pastries, he added, "I wasn't sure about your breakfast preference either, but if you want more than this, I'm sure I can whip something up."

"No, this is great," Angel told him honestly. None of the other guys he'd had over in the past, even the ones he lived with for a minute, ever took this much initiative. "I usually just do coffee anyway. Thanks, though. Really."

"My pleasure." He was smiling again—or still—and Angel recalled what Molly had said the night before about them wanting to be given tasks. Angel hadn't given him any, so he made his own. That must mean he wanted things to do, right? After a couple seconds of silence in which Angel sipped his coffee and nibbled on a chocolate-almond biscotti, they both tried to talk at the same time.

"Angel, I'm—"

"Listen, about—oh, sorry."

"No, no, go ahead," Alastor said, inclining his head again.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry for that fit I threw last night. You were just doin' what you were made to do. It was stupid for me to hold that against you." What a weird conversation to be having with a machine.

"I appreciate your concern, but you have nothing to apologize for," Alastor assured him, folding his hands on the counter. "I'm the one who's here to fulfill your needs; if I can't do that, it's my fault, not yours."

"Hey, don't say that. You're not—"

Alastor held up a hand to stop him and continued, "That being said...I think I may have a solution in mind, if you'd like to hear it."

"A solution?" Angel frowned, leaning his elbows on the counter and bringing his coffee cup to his lips again. "To what?"

"My lack of, er, agency, let's say. Last night, it was clear that my inability to self-determine upset you." He stayed very still while he talked, like most toms did when they were focused, and Angel tried not to be unnerved by it. "After spending some time reviewing the language of my programming, I concluded that's not something that's likely to change with time. As I get to know you better, I'll be able to predict your needs better, but my actions will only ever be motivated by your wishes."