Bender felt his systems kick back online as he booted up. His visor slid away and his optics flickered on, internal clock registering that he had slept much longer than anticipated. After a few minutes of groggy processing, he pulled himself into a sitting position. Late afternoon sunlight spilled into the room he shared with Fry, washing it in a warm golden haze. He looked down at the human lying next to him, snoring untidily. Rays of light shining through the blinds painted a hypnotizing pattern of striped shadows on the sweat-sticky skin of his back. The robot flipped open his chest cavity and took out a cigar, lighting it with an easy, practiced motion. He took a slow drag, watching as the smoke spiraled toward the ceiling in lazy, nonsensical circles before fading away.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Those were human words, human actions. He didn't even have lungs, not really. When had he become so human? So comfortable with humanness and all the unpredictability it entails that being around other robots became boring, unsatisfying, mundane? And yet, without this human, without Fry, he would have no life at all. The thought of owing anything to a human, even his own continued existence, suddenly enraged him. He took another puff of his cigar and considered thrusting the lit end onto his sleeping companion's skin, just to see how much pain it would cause him. He could run a probability simulator, but he already knew the exact yelping sound the human would make. Fry mumbled incomprehensibly in his sleep and rolled over to face Bender, throwing his arm over the robot's legs in the process.
Inhale.
Exhale.
He tapped off some of the ash into one of the half-full Slurm cans that littered the bedside table. He looked again at the human. Fry had a streak of drool drying at one corner of his mouth, and what was most likely spray-cheese was crusted in his hair from the previous night's alcohol-fueled snack binge. But his expression was peaceful, and his eyes weren't puffy like they used to be when he constantly cried over the other human, Leela. Bender didn't understand what drove his roommate to pursue their captain again and again without success, when it would just leave him in despair each time. Surely leaking that much fluid wasn't convenient. But then Bender still didn't understand a lot about human psychology, even if he sometimes emulated it.
The light was slowly but steadily fading. It would be dark soon.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Bender stamped out his cigar and roughly extracted himself from the human's clingy grasp. He slid down from their zip-tied 'double' bed and crossed over to the door, hearing Fry's startled, irritated grumbling with a malicious satisfaction.
"Bender? Where're y'going?" He paused in the doorway.
"Getting a beer. I'm too sober."
He heard Fry sigh and sink back onto the worn mattress. "Mmkay. Are you coming back to bed?" He sounded unsure.
"No." He turned and slanted his optics in a comfortable glare, relishing the moment of hurt confusion twisting the human's face. Fry always did wear his emotions too close to the surface. A very human trait. Bender was used to it. It made him easy to read, simple to manipulate. But seeing that expression made his cruel intentions and "kill all humans" mantra fade away like dissipating cigar smoke. "Let's watch All My Circuits instead."
Fry looked surprised before a slow, sleepy smile softened his features. "Okay."
And even though he closed his eyes and appeared to doze off again, Bender knew from calculations and previous experience that the human would soon be next to him on the couch. And maybe they would end up doing decidedly human things, like eating and laughing and wrestling over the TV remote. And maybe they could use the telescope Bender stole from the professor to look at the stars, and Fry would get that wistful, longing smile that always sends a shivery spark through Bender's circuits, the one he was sure would make him blush if he was capable of it.
And maybe, if it meant more moments like these, humans weren't so bad after all.
Inhale. Exhale.