Chapter 3

Julian knew that Finn’s presence would be annoying and uncomfortable, at least at first, and he was not disappointed in that regard. The AI was like an overly inquisitive child, following him from room to room, asking questions as he went. Some of the questions were sensible.

Is there anything you’d like me to do around the house? I know this is a washing machine, but I don’t know how to operate it. Could you show me?

Others were not.

What does food taste like? What is the point of clothing in the summertime? Wouldn’t it be more practical not to wear them, and save the time and energy it takes to wash them?

By the third day, Julian was getting frustrated. Finn was constantly at his heels like a puppy, and the questions never ended. He had said that asking questions was a good way for him to learn, but they were starting to get ridiculous. Honestly, how was he supposed to explain the purpose of art to something he still wasn’t sure could genuinely experience emotion? It was at 5:30pm on Tuesday afternoon that Julian decided he had been cooped up with the AI for too long. He nearly punched holes in the comm screen on his kitchen wall in his haste to get in touch with Paul. As soon as his best friend’s face popped up, he sighed with relief.

I need you.

“Hey, now. I love you, but not like that,” Paul joked.

Julian groaned and shook his head. Paul, I need you to come distract Finn. He’s been asking so many questions you might as well have adopted me a child. I can’t take any more of this today.

“Okay. Hmm.” The man on the other side of the screen rubbed his forehead in contemplation. “Did you ever find him some better-fitting clothes?”

Finn strolled into the kitchen just then, a magazine in one hand and a mystery novel in the other. He was still wearing his too-small shirt and ugly green shorts. Julian’s eyes traveled to the sliver of pale midriff that was exposed, then darted away quickly when Finn peeked out from behind his Cosmopolitan to grin at him.

No.

“Well then, I’ll drop by the mall on my way over and grab him a few shirts and pairs of pants. Maybe some shoes, too. What size do you think he wears?”

The blond turned back to Finn, who was now sitting cross-legged on a kitchen chair, engrossed in whatever god-awful sex advice article was vomited across the glossy pages of the women’s rag, bare foot bouncing up and down excitedly. Large bare foot, that was.

I don’t know. At least a 12.

Paul whistled. “Damn, those are some big feet. And you know what they say about guys with big feet, don’t you?”

Jesus, Paul! Don’t be disgusting. I told you: he might be pretty, but he’s still a robot.

He glanced back just then to see Finn watching him with a much less delighted look on his face than when it had been buried in Cosmopolitan. Cold, sickly guilt sat in his stomach like a lead ball. Julian had been increasingly testy with the AI recently due to his incessant questioning, and he knew he was being a bit of a bastard -okay, more than a bit. He wasn’t sure if Finn could truly feel emotion, but at times like this-

“I’m just joking, man. Calm down.”

Julian’s attention snapped back to his friend on the screen. He was grateful for the interruption. The melancholy expression on the AI’s handsome face made him feel like he’d done something wrong. Even if he was composed of wire and metal, Finn was so kind to him that Julian always instantly regretted being rude to or dismissive of him. After so long with so little human contact, it was like a slap in the face for the blond to realize just how big of an asshole he’d become.

Luckily Paul showed up within the hour, a bag full of shirts and pants and undergarments in one hand, and one containing two pairs of shoes in the other. The two men shepherded Finn into the guest bathroom downstairs and instructed him to come out and show them the results once he’d put on the new clothes. After they’d shut him into the small room, Julian turned to Paul and ran his hands through his long hair in frustration.

Have I always been such a huge jerk? He asked, eyes flicking to the bathroom from which he could hear the rustling of fabric as Finn changed. I don’t know if it’s because he’s not really a human being, or if I’ve just been cut off from society for so long, but I treat him like shit, Paul. I don’t even mean to, it just happens. And he really is nice to me, for whatever reason. Even if it’s only his programming, Finn doesn’t deserve to be spoken to the way I speak to him.

They made their way to the living room just down the small corridor. Paul put a hand on Julian’s shoulder as they sat on the big, leather couch in the corner to wait for Finn.

“You know how I know you’re not a jerk? A real jerk wouldn’t care how he treats a person, much less a CompAnIon. Just give yourself some time, Jules. The more Finn learns, the less of a handful he’ll be. Maybe you should sit him down at your computer and let him surf the internet for a while.”

Julian sighed and leaned his head back on the old, worn sofa.

I’ve told him to use my computer whenever he has a question I can’t answer. Google can teach him more than I ever could, and Google is infinitely more patient than I will ever be.

It wasn’t that Finn was a slow learner, Julian knew, it was that he was a horrible teacher. His patience had worn so thin over the last few days that he had been reduced to answering the CompAnIon with one word, and sometimes none at all. If he were being truly honest with himself, he would admit that his thinning tolerance had less to do with an unwillingness to answer Finn’s questions, and more to do with an irrational fear of the attraction he felt toward the modelesque AI. But Julian hadn’t been truly honest with himself since the accident, and irrational fears, however groundless, are always the hardest to overcome.

Finn exited the bathroom then, and both men sat forward in their seats. The AI’s heavy footsteps reverberated down the hallway, made even louder than normal by the presence of a brand new pair of loafers. Julian’s eyes went wide as Finn walked into the living room.

Had he stepped off the pages of a Perry Ellis catalogue, Julian wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised. The turquoise polo fit perfectly, soft cotton stretching just so across his broad chest. Paul had bought him a pair of chinos as well. Julian had to stop himself from asking Finn to turn in a circle so he could see the way they clung to his ass. As luck would have it, his hands were curled into claws on top of his thighs, making speech more or less impossible. Paul gave Finn a thumbs up, nodding in approval. The AI beamed at the men on the couch.

“You clean up nicely, Finn,” Paul told him.

“I take it this is more fashionable than what I was wearing a moment ago?”

“Oh, absolutely. I don’t know if it’s my amazing fashion sense, or if you just pull it off, but color me impressed. What do you think, Jules?”

The other man blinked a few times, thanking his lucky stars for once that his Sahara-dry mouth wasn’t needed for communication. He brought his hands up in order to give an enthusiastic review of the outfit, but again caught himself before he could do something potentially embarrassing. Instead, he looked Finn dead in the eye, trying and failing to suppress a blush he could feel staining his cheeks and chest.

It’s fine.

“Fine?” Paul balked.

Yeah.

When the man beside him refused to shut his gaping mouth or unknit his eyebrows, Julian ‘tsk’ed.

What? I said it’s fine! What’s the big deal? He’s in a polo and khakis and he looks like he could be going golfing with my father.

“You don’t seem nearly as enthused about the outfit as Paul, Julian. Are you sure you like it? There are others in the bathroom that might suit your taste more.”

Before anyone could so much as say another word, Finn turned on his heel and disappeared into the bathroom. Paul groaned and smacked Julian on the back of his head.

“Did you see his face? He looked like someone kicked his puppy, and that someone is you, Jules. Lighten up a little, would you? I’m starting to see why you’re calling yourself a jerk.”

Julian scowled, but said nothing in return. What could he say, anyway? That he was acting like a five year old because he was terrified that otherwise he might act on his fledgling attraction to a robot instead? No. He didn’t want to be rude to his CompAnIon, but he also didn’t want to harbor feelings for anything or anyone who couldn’t love him back.

The next time Finn presented himself to the two men in the living room, Julian realized, with a strange sense of calm, that all of his pretense had been for nothing. Every denial he had ever made as to the AI's attractiveness, every protest ever issued from his fingers concerning Finn's robotic nature was forgotten when Julian took in the sight of him in the doorway. With a slow sigh of resignation, Julian stood and walked over to his CompAnIon. He reached out and fastened a button that had been left undone on the pale pink dress shirt; the smooth flesh of Finn’s chest was much too distracting.

You look really nice, Finn, he signed with a smile. These clothes suit you. Paul did a great job picking them out. Julian smoothed a hand down the crisp cotton of the AI’s sleeve.

“So you are pleased with this outfit, then? There are a few more in the bathroom.”

Very pleased, yes. Why don’t you go put those things away in your closet?

Finn smiled back at him, delighted that Julian was finally in a better mood than he’d been all week. He thanked Paul for his clothes, and then retreated upstairs to hang up all of his new belongings. When he was out of sight, Julian turned to his friend and motioned for him to follow him into the kitchen. Julian let out another sigh as he slumped into his chair.

“You’ve done that a few times now. What’s with all the sighing?” Paul asked, easing himself down onto the wooden seat. “Are you really happy about those clothes? I can take ‘em back if you’re not. I kept the receipts just in case-”

No, Julian signed, cutting him off. No, don’t take them back. I really do like them. That’s why I’ve been sighing, he admitted, feeling the flush start to creep its way back up his throat.

“Wait. So you- oh,” Paul stopped mid-sentence to grin smugly at his friend. He leaned in and switched to sign language in case any curious AIs were listening. You do like him. I knew it! he gloated. What pulled you out of denial? It was the pants, wasn’t it? I’m not surprised; I’d kill for an ass like that.

No, it wasn’t the pants you awful pervert! Julian insisted, coloring further. Paul cocked one disbelieving eyebrow at him. Well, it wasn’t only the pants, he relented. When he walked into the room wearing that pink shirt that was a little too undone, he just looked so- He looked like-”

“A man?”

Julian nodded. He looks like a man, he speaks like a man, he acts like a man. If you never saw the port in his back, you’d never guess he wasn’t a man.

And you’re attracted to him, right?”

Another, smaller nod from Julian had Paul slapping him heartily on the back. “That’s great, Jules! So hey, now you can stop being such a dick to him. I’m sure he’ll appreciate that.”

“Julian isn’t a dick to me,” came the honeyed baritone of the AI from upstairs.

And that’s why I was signing. Paul chuckled and slapped Julian on the shoulder a few more times. “But really, this is great. I’m so happy you’ve finally decided to embrace this situation. Time to let those walls start falling.”

‘Embrace’ seems like an odd word choice.

“Now who’s the pervert?” Paul stood just as Finn came lumbering back down the stairs. “Well, I think that’s my cue. Finn, do you like the clothes?”

The AI smiled and nodded. “Yes. They’re very comfortable, and Julian likes them.”

“That’s important? Julian liking them, I mean.”

“Oh, yes. I value Julian’s opinions.”

Said man rolled his eyes and tried to ignore the fact that his face was probably the color of a particularly ripe tomato. He attempted to offer Paul money for the clothes, but he refused, saying that their little heart-to-heart had been more than worth the price of a few Ralph Lauren pieces. Finn was still wearing the last outfit he’d tried on, and Julian was having a very hard time looking him in the eye, much to Paul’s amusement. After a few moments of idle chatter, Julian excused himself. He didn’t quite run away, but Paul knew that if he’d had just a little less pride, he would have quite literally sprinted up the stairs to his bedroom. He might no longer be in denial about his attraction to Finn, but he was still no Casanova. Paul glanced at Finn, who was watching the blonde retreat, and sighed.

Poor guy.

“Do you think he’s really happy?” Finn asked, startling the dark-haired man behind him.

“He’s happy, yeah,” Paul smiled. Finn turned to him; the expression on his face was one Paul could only call ‘forlorn’.

“How can you be sure? He says he is pleased with the clothes you bought me, but the way he responds to me makes me think he’s only humoring us.”

Paul shook his head. “Julian’s special, Finn. He’s been through a lot, and he’s had it pretty rough for a while. I’m sure he’ll tell you about it when he’s ready. All you need to know is that Julian’s one of those guys who’s not very good at expressing himself. You’re gonna have to read between the lines.”

As soon as Paul exited the house, Finn sat himself down at the computer in Julian’s study. Read between the lines, Paul had said. The only problem was that Finn had no idea what that meant. Luckily, the search engine did. Julian had told him to come here any time he wanted to learn something; the internet was his second largest source of information, next to his owner. But he was starting to get the impression that his eagerness and curiosity were beginning to annoy the little blonde.

If there was one thing an AI was good at, it was learning from its mistakes. Finn typed ‘read between the lines’ into the search bar, and hit ‘enter’.