Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Aro was in a bad mood. There was never any doubt in anyone’s mind about that. When Aro was in a bad mood, he tended to spread that bad mood around like a virus and bring everyone else down along with him, whether purposefully or otherwise.

But this mood seemed different. It wasn’t just his usual grouchiness or even frustration stemming from a night interrupted by noisy neighbors; in fact, Aro almost seemed more sad than angry, which was strange. When Aro got upset, it was always the loud and dramatic sort of upset, not the quiet and mopey one, but moping seemed to be exactly what the vampire planned to do today.

Even his outfit made his gloominess more obvious. His usual put-together black suit had been swapped for a giant black sweatshirt and gray sweatpants that nearly swallowed him whole. It was a shocking sight, to be sure, to see Aro disregard his appearance in such a way. He didn’t even seem to have brushed his hair.

Of course, nobody had the nerve to make any comments about it. Most weren’t close enough with him to be certain that he wouldn’t bite their heads off for saying such a thing.

Miles, however, certainly was, and he was determined to find out why Aro was in such a funk. He already had a sneaking suspicion as to what exactly was the matter.

“Why, you must be on your period, hm?” Miles asked. He’d pulled Aro to the side to decrease the risk of someone overhearing them and figuring out Aro’s little secret. Miles might’ve died of guilt if he were to be the reason that his friend was prematurely outed, so he was sure to take precautions.

Aro winced at the mere suggestion, instinctively clutching at his lower stomach as if suddenly suffering from phantom cramps. “No, Miles. Vampires don’t have periods. We can’t bleed,” he explained, trying to be patient with the boy. “That’s lucky for me, I suppose. No periods, no pregnancy scares.”

“How fascinating,” Miles mused, “but that doesn’t help me get to the bottom of this mood of yours, now does it? Tell me, darling, what’s got you feeling so down?” He gave Aro a quick once-over as if it would provide him some sort of clue.

Aro wanted to lie, to tell Miles that he was fine, but he knew better than to think that his friend would be so easily fooled, and so resigned himself to the truth. “Well, you see,” he began, “I… sometimes I experience a disconnect between my perception of myself and my body, and it causes me intense emotional distress. It’s called—”

“Gender dysphoria. Yes, I’m familiar. You aren’t the first transgender friend I’ve ever had, you know. Living in London in the 1930s, people like us tended to flock together.”

“I… yes, I suppose that makes sense. I apologize for assuming ignorance.”

Miles waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, do hush. It’s quite alright,” he assured Aro. “I understand why you would. I’m sure not everyone has been so understanding.”

“Yes, not particularly,” Aro agreed. “As for my dysphoria, usually I can manage it, but… well, today has been difficult.”

“May I ask why?”

“There isn’t any particular reason,” the vampire confessed, looking sheepish, “and there isn’t usually much warning beforehand either. Sometimes something will trigger it, sometimes it just happens.”

“Oh, dear, how miserable,” Miles sympathized, resting a comforting hand on Aro’s shoulder. “Is there any way I can help?”

Aro offered Miles a weak smile, a silent symbol of gratitude for his support. “I’m afraid not. I’ll just have to wait it out.”

“Well, regardless, you simply must let me hug you. That always helps me when I’m feeling blue, after all.”

“Well…”

“Oh, please, Aro?”

“Alright, yes, fine,” Aro huffed. He tried to appear opposed to the suggestion, but Miles could see the soft smile tugging at his lips. “I guess I accept my inevitable fate of minor physical affection.”

“That’s the spirit, darling!” Miles chirped, wrapping his arms tightly around Aro, trapping the vampire’s arms at his sides. Normally, this would’ve caused him to panic, but there was just something about Miles that put Aro at ease.

“It’s a silly feeling, you know. Gender dysphoria.” Miles’s breath tickled Aro’s ear as he spoke, making him shiver.

Aro instantly jumped on the defensive. “What makes you say that?”

Miles frowned and pulled away a bit, keeping one hand resting on Aro’s shoulder and the other on Aro’s left cheek. “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that,” he fretted. “I only meant… well, you’re quite handsome, and really, you do pass perfectly well. Everyone here perceives you as a man, myself included, so your brain is being quite silly trying to convince you otherwise. You’re just as much a man as I am. Or as Lucian is, for that matter.”

Aro just stared at him for a bit, expression unreadable. Miles was worried he’d said something wrong until he felt Aro pull him closer, squeezing Miles like he was afraid he would disappear if he let go.

“Oh, darling,” Miles cooed, reaching up to stroke Aro’s hair and shush him gently. He could feel a wet spot forming on his shirt, likely from tears that Aro was too embarrassed to shed visibly. “It’s alright. Mother’s here.”

Aro pulled his face out of Miles’s shoulder for a moment to look up at him, his eyes red and puffy. “Miles?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Thank you.”

Chapter Text

“Good morning, Robbie.” Dr. Whitly stood at the kitchen counter, mug of coffee in his hand. He was far too chipper for it to be as early as it was. At the same time, Robbie was usually wide awake by now; instead, this morning, the boy had his arms resting on the kitchen island, his face pressed firmly into them.

“Hello,” came the mumbled reply. Robbie’s voice was quiet and husky. He sounded tired.

Martin took a sip of coffee before setting down his mug, frowning at the top of Robbie’s head. “Are you feeling alright?” He asked, taking a step closer to stand beside the boy. He reached a hand out to tease at one of Robbie’s curls. “You don’t seem yourself.”

Robbie slowly sat up and peered at Dr. Whitly. “I didn’t sleep very well last night,” he admitted.

“Do you know why?”

“I can’t be certain, but I think it must be because of how strange everything is,” the boy mused, reaching up to try and scrub the sleep from his eyes. “I arrived here, however it is exactly that happened, from the furthest away in time. Sometimes I worry that when…sorry, if we are ever able to return to our homes, that I may end up having difficulty readjusting to what used to be so familiar.”

“I can only imagine how hard this has been on you,” Martin said, the picture of sympathy, stroking Robbie’s mussed hair with a firm yet comforting hand. “Suddenly you’ve got all these new things, and all these new people, and it’s probably so much louder and faster than what you’ve been used to.”

“It is,” Robbie sighed. “It’s all so much. I just wish that I… well, I wish I had someone to share it all with. All of my thoughts, my feelings, my fears.” He glanced up at Martin. “I write so much of it down, but what I really want is a person, even if all they would do is read through my journal to understand my thoughts. You understand, don’t you?”

“Well, of course.” Martin finally settled onto the stool next to Robbie, leaning onto the counter beside him, so close that they could both feel the tension in the air.

Robbie searched Dr. Whitly’s expression, his face scrunching up cutely as he did. “Do you mean that?”

“Yes. The desire for human connection is…” Martin trailed off as he noticed the sad puppy-dog expression that Robbie was giving him: the boy’s hazel eyes were wide and glistening, his lower lip trembling as he fluttered his dark lashes.

Martin heaved a sigh, rolling his eyes playfully. “Okay, come here. You don’t need to use that face.” He pulled Robbie into a hug, eliciting a small sound of surprise and pleasure from the boy. Martin smiled as he felt Robbie melt into his touch and began rubbing small circles into Robbie’s back.

“You can always talk to me,” Dr. Whitly hummed. “I would be more than happy to keep you company.”

“Would you?” Robbie pulled back a bit and smiled timidly at Martin, as if he were afraid Martin might change his mind. “I hate to be an imposition, especially if—“

Martin shushed him gently, running a thumb over the boy’s cheekbone. “It’s not a problem, my boy. I promise.”

Chapter Text

“I need a hug.”

Robbie looked up from where he had been making himself a sandwich, slightly startled by Martin’s sudden appearance beside him. “Hm?”

“I said I need a hug,” the older man repeated, sounding a bit petulant. “You’re not the only one having a hard time adjusting. I miss my children, I miss my wife... well, ex-wife. Hell, I even miss Mr. David, you know. He was my guard back at Claremont, but I think we had a special connection, he and I.”

Robbie just blinked at him, butterknife hovering over the piece of bread in his other hand. “What does that have to do with—”

“It doesn’t,” Martin admitted. “My point is, I would very much appreciate a bit of comfort from my favorite cohabitant.”

Robbie’s cheeks flushed a precious shade of pink at the compliment, setting his sandwich supplies down and wiping his hands on a nearby paper towel. “Well, I think I could certainly manage that,” he replied with a chuckle, turning to face Dr. Whitly and opening his arms.

Martin took a step forward, gratefully enveloping Robbie in his embrace, seeming rather satisfied when he felt the boy’s arms wrap around him in return. It was a nice hug, warm and welcoming, and Robbie smelled faintly of lavender, which only served to soothe Martin’s worries even further. He pressed his face in close to Robbie’s neck, inhaling deeply and startling a squeak from the boy.

“Are… are you sniffing me?” He started to squirm uncomfortably in Dr. Whitly’s grip, but the older man didn’t seem willing to let him go so easily.

“Maybe a bit,” Martin admitted. “You smell different than usual, and I couldn’t help but get a bit curious. What’s changed, hm?”

“Oh, well, I-I’ve been using this new body wash that Miles recommended to me, so I suppose that could be it. It’s—”

“Lavender,” Martin interrupted. “I can tell.”

“Y-yes, well…” Robbie wasn’t exactly sure how to respond to the current situation. He liked Dr. Whitly, yes, and he enjoyed receiving his affections, but this was starting to become a bit much, even for him. “I’m glad you s-seem to like it.”

“Oh, I do. Very much,” Dr. Whitly agreed, a slight purr evident in his voice.

Robbie could feel the older man’s hands beginning to inch down his back, further and further until they were resting right above the soft swell of his ass. The little gasp he let out at the realization only prompted Martin to pull him in tighter, nearly squeezing the breath right out of him.

“Martin,” he breathed.

“What is it, my boy?”

“L-let me go. Please.” Robbie was all but begging, his face red with shame. “It’s getting h-hard to breathe.”

Martin appeared to consider the request for a moment. Robbie was almost afraid that he would refuse, keeping him there, pressed up against the older man’s chest for as long as he pleased; this was not the case. It was only moments until Martin released him so suddenly that Robbie nearly toppled to the ground, grabbing onto the kitchen counter to regain his balance.

The boy looked up at him, guilt in his bright hazel eyes. “I-I’m sorry, Martin, I—”

“No, no, don’t be,” Dr. Whitly replied. “I shouldn’t have taken it that far. I had just figured since, you know, I helped you with everything you needed the other day, offered to let you talk to me about your problems and everything, that you’d be willing to do the same for me.”

The statement sent another pang of guilt through Robbie’s chest. “I am! I’m willing to help you however you need,” he promised. “It’s only that… well, you were squeezing me so tight, i-it was getting a bit hard to breathe.”

“Did you consider that maybe I needed to hug you that tightly?” Martin’s tone was cold and snippy, a harsh voice he’d never used with Robbie before. “To make myself feel better?”

“I—”

“No, of course you didn’t,” Dr. Whitly sighed. “No one ever considers my feelings. Still, no need to apologize, my boy. I can find comfort elsewhere, not a big deal at all.”

“Martin, wait.” Robbie reached out for Dr. Whitly as he turned to leave, but the older man brushed him off, trudging off into the sitting room to be alone.

Robbie tried to ignore the sinking feeling currently settling itself in his chest as he went back to making his sandwich, but quickly found that to be an impossible task. Martin was right: he’d been kind enough to offer Robbie comfort when he was distressed, so Robbie should’ve properly returned the favor. Perhaps he deserved Martin’s frustration, to be spoken to like a misbehaving child.

All he knew for sure was that he never wanted it to happen again.

Chapter Text

“Hello, Dr. Masters! Are you busy?”

Dr. Masters looked up from the papers strewn out in front of him, notes and records from the three trials he had conducted for his study in the bookshop so far. He stared disapprovingly at the intruder who had broken his concentration with such cheer. “Hello, Captain Charity,” he sighed. “Can I help you?”

“I asked you first,” Will rebutted with a grin. “Are you busy?”

“I was, but since you so graciously decided to join me, I suppose I’m not too invested in anything at the moment. Why, did you need something?” Dr. Masters pushed away from his desk, walking over towards another stack of papers and books near the doorway.

“Yes, actually,” Will said, taking a step closer. “Are you alright? I... well, Aro told Miles who, frankly, told everyone else that you and Dr. Whitly had gotten into a fight. Apparently he heard it through the walls, which I’m honestly quite jealous of. The vampiric hearing, I mean. Not the fight with Dr. Whitly.”

“I was hoping that wouldn’t get around,” Bill huffed, removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Between you telling them all about your experience, and now me getting into an argument with my second subject, I’m starting to think continuing my study here wasn’t the wisest decision.”

“Nothing went wrong with my trial! You said you wouldn’t share anything about it, not that we couldn’t, so that one was technically a success,” Charity insisted. “Besides, Robbie’s went off without issue, didn’t it? I haven’t heard a peep from anyone about him, so it must’ve been rather uneventful.”

“It went well, yes. Nothing unusual.” Despite his statement, Dr. Masters still seemed downtrodden about the unexpected hardships that had come along with his new study. The sight made Will’s chest ache with a longing to make it all better.

Stepping up to Dr. Masters, Charity opened his arms and smiled. “Don’t just stand there looking like a sad old basset hound. Come here.” With that, Will pulled him into a hug, and for a moment Dr. Masters was too shocked to even resist. “You looked like you needed one of these.”

When Will relaxed his hold, Dr. Masters took the opportunity to step— well, stumble— away from him, looking rather flustered. “Captain Charity, I—”

“I’m not coming onto you, if that’s what you’re thinking. At least not at the moment,” Will said with a tiny smirk. “I just know that there’s far too much tension to be had in this bookshop. Everyone needs a hug every once in a while!”

“Well.” Bill busied himself with straightening his bowtie and smoothing his shirt down, avoiding looking Charity in the eyes. “You may be right about that. The tension, I mean. Everyone seems so willing to choose sides, and between this and whatever is going on with Lucian and Aro and Miles— not to mention the way Robbie’s been acting around Martin— I suppose I did.”

Will blinked at him. “You did what?”

“I did need that. Physical comfort. I… thank you. But perhaps ask next time?”

“Maybe. If I’m feeling generous.”

Chapter Text

Castor was bored— stupidly, mind-numbingly bored. Normally they could find something to distract them for a few hours at a time, but it seemed like nothing was working today.

This was not a good thing.

When Castor was bored, some sort of mischief usually occurred soon after. It was hard to resist causing trouble when there was none to be found, after all. Thankfully, he had one final thing that they always resorted to in times like this.

It was time to go see his boyfriend.

Arthur wasn't anywhere that Castor had expected him to be. He wasn't in the kitchen, or the dining room, or even in the sitting room; instead, Castor found him sitting in his bedroom in the dark, perched on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. This was unusual. Arthur hardly ever took breaks when there was work to be done around the shop, despite Castor’s insistence that he do so.

They should’ve been relieved to see Arthur finally taking their advice, but the sudden compliance with their suggestion worried them more than anything. This was incredibly unlike Arthur.

"Hello, love," Castor said quietly, trying to avoid startling his boyfriend. "Are you feeling alright?"

Arthur glanced up quickly, fixing a fake smile onto his face. "I— hello. I'm doing alright, yes."

"Arthur." Castor took a step forward, slowly lowering themself onto the bed beside Arthur, close but not too close. "Arthur, dearest, don't lie to me. If you can be honest with anyone in this whole shop, it's me. You know that."

Arthur's smile faded as he dropped his gaze. "Of course. I— well, you can probably tell. I'm a bit upset."

"Would you like to talk about it?" Castor scooted a bit closer to Arthur's side.

Arthur swallowed hard, looking uncertain. "Not really,” he replied. “I mean, sort of. It's just... some of our housemates can be rather demanding, but I suppose I shouldn't be so picky. It's my job, after all, and I'd hate to burden you with silly, unreasonable complaints."

"You're not ‘burdening’ me," Castor insisted, throwing an arm quite dramatically around Arthur's neck. "I just want to know if I can help! It's not your job to deal with everyone’s issues and requests all the time. Remember? You’re only one android, you’ve only got so much energy to go around.”

"Yes, I-I'm sorry," Arthur replied sheepishly, turning his face away from Castor. "To be frank, I was hoping you wouldn't find me like this. You've been trying so hard to get me to stop relying on my old coding, I knew you'd be disappointed that I let it get this far. Martin's just... I didn't want to get on his bad side by refusing him."

"Well, no one does," Castor pointed out, “but you shouldn't let him push you around, love! He’s far too obsessed with control for my tastes. Regardless, I promise I'm not upset with you.”

"Not even slightly disappointed?"

"Of course not, love."

Arthur offered Castor a shy smile, pressing close to their side. "Thank you, Castor."

"Oh, no. Not Castor," they corrected with a mischievous grin. "I am officially the Cozy Station, and these arms have limited VIP space for front row hugs." They opened their arms wide to punctuate their point, eagerly inviting Arthur into their lap.

Arthur giggled a bit, a genuine smile making his eyes light up as he snuggled into Castor's arms without question. "Thank you. I'm enjoying these VIP, gold-level hugs," he said.

"Well, of course! These are only for my favorite people," Castor purred, running a hand through Arthur's hair. “And androids, of course.”

Arthur felt his cheeks get hot, his internal fans speeding up until their whirr could be heard through the entire room.

Castor chuckled at that, nuzzling the side of Arthur's face. "No need to be embarrassed, love. I've always got a few front row hugs reserved for you. They're here whenever you need them."