Checkup

“Xander?"

Val tentatively stepped into the doorway with a parcel in hand, taking in the sight. Xander's home was dark and quiet, absent of its typical overhead lighting and glowing circuitry. Xander, meanwhile, was nowhere to be seen. Val would have thought the place was abandoned, if it wasn't for the resounding intercom voice that replied:

“Get out, Hound.”

But Val didn't listen, instead calling out to the disembodied voice. “I brought you something. What did Case say…?”

Xander didn't respond until Val made his way across the room. As Val entered the hall, Xander's voice came over the intercom again.

“Don't come any closer.”

“You haven't had the chance to eat. You need to- I'm coming down the hallway- you need to eat; especially now. I'm at the door, now…”

Val continued to talk as he entered Xander's room, but his voice faltered when he caught sight of Xander. The normally well-kept peacock was a mess, his hair wild and feathers ruffled. He was lying in bed, a blanket haphazardly thrown over himself and his half-buttoned uniform.

A feathered tail flitted as the door creaked open, but Xander didn't meet Val's gaze. He couldn't, even if he wanted to: pop-up errors clustered in front of his eye, hiding the wound that Val knew was there.

“I'm on your left,” Val said as he set the bag at Xander’s bedside. It crinkled as he opened the file folder, and Xander tilted his head at the sound. Virusytes fed on programs and data, in place of normal food- which was great, because Val had no idea how to acquire the latter. He combed through the folder, sifting through for pieces of fragmented code to give to Xander. He knew Xander hadn't had the chance- or the drive- to eat; if Val didn't insist on taking care of him, he was certain Xander would let himself starve.

“I can feed myself just fine,” Xander complained as he heard Val’s movements. He propped himself upright, flinching as Val's hand fell to his back to steady him. Val set the file in Xander's hands, and his parasitic feather-tails unfurled to filter through the code.

It had been the same song and dance for the past few days. Val would insist on checking on Xander (the only one who ever bothered to do so, most of the time), Xander would tell him to leave, Val wouldn't listen. Val would bring food, chat, keep watch for a little bit, before reluctantly getting back to business as usual.

His work wasn't at all what he had been doing before, though Val decided not to worry Xander with the details. The Vulf Pack was over, disbanded the moment everything went down- Val couldn't get in contact with half of the people he'd been working alongside not even a week ago, and he wasn't sure he wanted to face them at all. Val was scrambling to find something new to replace his group work, investing into new domains and spreading his resources thin. Something had to catch on eventually- until then, he was in limbo, unsure of where he was headed next.

It wasn't like he could stay focused on what he was doing, anyway: Xander's injuries were front and center in his mind. Xander had been blinded, his graphics processing capabilities corrupted by somebody Val had chosen to work alongside. Guilt tugged at his heart like a leash, pulling him away from his work and back to Xander's domain, day after day. Val hoped for a fix- but the technician was supposed to stop by last night, and Xander didn't look any better than the last time Val visited.

“How'd it go with Casey?” Val repeated.

“The supervisors don't have any confirmed fix,” Xander said. “Typical. Said she could try something that's not in the manual.”

“Are you going to let her?”

“I don't see why not. I've already lost official support, presumably.”

Val's ears flattened against his scalp, and he was glad Xander couldn't see the worried look on his face. The thought of third-party modifications to Xander's code made Val’s processor run cold. Beyond the scope of typical supervisor-ordained bug fixes or patches, it wasn't good to mess with the program. There was too much that could go wrong- and the thought of something else failing with Xander's code struck Val with an icy fear he hadn't felt before.

Val hadn't realized just how attached he'd gotten. The Vulf Pack was a team, sure, but it was a job first and foremost: his coworkers were supposed to remain coworkers, and emotions were meant to be quashed as frivolous human things. Their interactions ceased the moment they were off the clock. If he lost a Virusyte or two-- well, he was in the business of shipping out their replacements anyways.

But it hurt to see everything go to shit, it pained him to think about the future without his associates. And it killed him to see Xander in this state- lethargic and morbid, a far cry from the cocky and put-together snob Val knew him to be.

He blamed the tears on the frustration of losing his business, but Val knew that was bullshit. It wasn't the job that he missed; he hadn't stopped by to supplement his income. The thought of losing profit wasn't what was setting his heart racing.

…No, Val was in love with Xander. He was sure of it.

It was an odd, human concept, and one that Val would never admit out loud. But he'd known from the start that he wasn't as detached as he would have liked to be- jumbled-up host feelings had embedded themselves too deep in Val's firmware for him to remove. He could only try his best to mask the human emotions, but that did nothing to rid him of them altogether. They were pesty and bad for business; he tried to ignore them until he couldn't anymore.

A flood of realizations stunned Val into silence as Xander ate. Val was capable of love. And he loved Xander. A thousand Virusyte flash drives couldn't replace him. His supervisors would be mad. He didn't know if Xander would be okay- but he loved him. Val felt his chest tighten as his mind drifted to the worst possibilities.

“...Valentine?”

“I'm h-- right here, I'm still here,” Val stammered. Tears pin-pricked the corners of his eyes at the way Xander said his name. Xander's voice was gentler than it had been when he had been telling Val to leave, and a hint of worry had crept into his tone. Concern for Val-- it was supposed to be the other way around, goddammit!

“Just checking. You're not one to go quiet.”

“I just-- I was just thinking. Wondering if-- you know, are you sure…?”

“Worst case scenario, it’s still not my problem anymore. A dead program doesn't have to worry about inputs.”

“...You could think about it that way.”

Val didn’t want to think about it that way. He didn’t know what to do- he sure as hell couldn’t tell Xander. It was difficult enough to coax Xander into letting Val help as is; any admission of icky human feelings would complicate things. At best, it would be awkward. At worst, his supervisors would catch wind, and take care of it with a by-the-book fix of their own. Some Virusytes could get away with that sort of thing, sweep it under the radar- but Val had far too many eyes on him to risk it. Feelings were nonoptimal, they were a distraction- and a distracted, nonoptimal Virusyte had no business facilitating USB transfers.

Val wouldn’t say a word about this Xander, he decided. Even if there was a chance he wouldn’t be around much longer. A twisted part of Val’s mind wondered if that was the ideal solution to his problem- if the object of his affections was dead, there would be nothing to cause him to stray from his path.

“You’re doing it again,” Xander interrupted.

“Sorry.”

Val hoped Xander didn’t hear the whine that escaped his throat. Xander reached for Val’s hand and missed, gently tugging Val’s forearm.

“I’m teasing, Val, god. It’s graphics, nothing vital. And Case does good work. You don’t trust her?”

“...I mean, I do, but--”

“It’s about time you get back to work, anyhow. It’s flattering, but you need to take your mind off of me.”

Val wanted to make an excuse as to why he needed to stay, but his mind only drew blanks.  

“...Alright. I’ll see you later, then.” Val immediately regretted his wording, but Xander chuckled.

“Same to you, if it goes well.”

When Xander heard the rustling of Val getting up to leave, he settled back down to sleep, turning to face away from the departing wolfman. Of course, Xander couldn’t see the way Val looked back one last time before he left, his eye watering and his face painted with an unfamiliar anxiety.

Nobody saw, but he was quick to wipe it off his face, regardless. There was no place for emotions in the Virusyte schedule; Val had work to do.