Mable: Here's a Valentine's fic I wrote for the holiday. Not exactly Valentine's themed, but since it's the holiday of romance then I guess anything tagged as 'romance' would work. ^-^ Yeah, I should just keep telling myself that. Anyway, I don't own 9, Enjoy!

A Bit out of Place

It was a normal day and Six was entering a very familiar predicament. He found himself scraping the bottom of his inkwell trying to get enough ink on his fingers to draw some more. He was halfway through a particularly detailed picture of the Seamstress when he had finally reached the point where he couldn't even get enough for another mark. Just a damp bottom that wouldn't even wet his hinds in the slightest. Six exhaled and fell back fully to sit on his legs that were folded beneath with a distressed look across his face.

Drawing was the only thing that Six liked to do excessively. He spent time with the others, of course, and tried to help when he could, but nothing was like drawing. Especially when he was half finished with a drawing and really wanted to finish it. It was almost an obsession that the striped one didn't like to leave a picture halfway done and partially because he would lose inspiration if he came back to it later. He needed to get ahold of more ink soon so that he could do so before he lost interest or grew tired, or anything else occurred that stopped his progress.

He stood from the marble floor of the Library and scuttled out of the small area that he had made into a temporary bedroom. It was basically a cleared out area half surrounded by stacks of books. The other side was against the pool of water located at the back of the Library. He had chosen this location himself and enjoyed being so close to inspiration of the view. Then again, most of the Library was lovely in a half dilapidated way, and now that they were living there together. Of course, there were downsides, and not everyone enjoyed their new home as much as they could.

One was still mourning the loss of the Cathedral. It was obvious from how he refused to speak about it that it bothered him. Six, however, found that he moved on quickly. He had lost every drawing he had of the source or of the Beasts, but at the same time Six knew they were gone forever and no longer hanging over his head. Now he could draw whatever he wanted to draw without the source or the Beasts getting in the way of such. He was finally free of that and even the strange visions had managed to back off for a while.

As he continued through the Library he passed Eight a few times while wandering towards the entrance. It took a few minutes for him to realize that Eight continuously appearing was because he was following him. The Artist knew this meant another attack on the Guard's part where he would do something to Six. Eight was a bit of a bully; he did it with little provocation and even when One had no problems with the victim. Usually it was brought on by the Guard being upset at the Stitchpunk or being bored. Even then it was usually a little trip or something in a relatively playful fashion

Or, at least, that was what occurred with the other Stitchpunks. Eight's bullying of Six was another matter completely. Eight was merciless against Six and attempted a wide variety of tricks just to tease and taunt him. The most he did physically was either tripping Six or grabbing something out of his hand as he clearly knew that Six was somewhat fragile. Though Six guessed that this concern of actually hurting him was based more off of his fear of getting caught by One than anything else. The last thing Eight wanted was to provoke One who had recently became more aware of his treatment towards the Artist.

As predicted, Eight finally appeared, walking towards Six but going by him. The Artist tensed and tried to stare ahead in an attempt to not give any indication to the other than he had noticed his behavior pattern. Then, right as they passed, Eight randomly slid his foot out and caught Six's. The striped one was already a bit clumsy without provocation so this sent the shorter forward. His arms briefly pin wheeled before he slammed into the hard marble of the floor. He slowly pushed himself up and looked upwards towards the Guard who was now chuckling at the event.

Then, as usual, Eight turned away and strode off. He didn't like to overdue his advances at Six at one time and instead measured them to adequate events throughout the day. Eight knew Six too well and knew to never go far enough that the Artist would snap. Not that the Artist would and because of this Six noticed that the attacks were becoming more frequently. Six slowly stood, stumbling to his feet, and began to head towards the entrance once again. His mood was plummeting and he wanted to get back to drawing as soon as possible. This meant going out and getting ink.

All it took was Five and Nine leading Six to the broken down store that they usually found his ink only once for him to remember the exact route. Not wanting to bother the others he simply supposed that he could go alone, as asking the others would involve waiting for a few hours for them to get ready. He merely wandered out into the Emptiness and out of the Library courtyard. There was light rain, but Six didn't mind, and headed onwards towards the store. He arrived there after some time and the trip was uneventful.

In fact, he was able to get an inkwell and started heading home as the rain started to come down harder upon him. The Inkwell didn't have a lid and was medium sized, so it wasn't easy to hold it securely and shield it from the rain as well. It didn't help that the ground was muddy as well and he also was trying to note the signs and cars to find the right route home. Unfortunately this was all a horrific setting for something to go wrong and he didn't realize it until it finally happened.

There was a small slope down towards the final rode that led to the Library and Six started down. Unfortunately, between the slick mud and the steepness he began to increase in speed as he hurried down the hill and was somewhat unable to stop. That was when one of his feet went right into a small hole that he hadn't seen. It was wrenched back, pain shot through his leg, and he fell before beginning to roll down the rest of the slope to the bottom. There he landed on a forming puddle of water on his back.

He laid there for a second before sitting up and looking for the inkwell. It was laying on its side leaking and he started to go to stand until he felt a stabbing pain. His mismatched optics dropped down to see that his ankle didn't look right. As he tried to move it, it barely responded and ached enough that he couldn't control a soft groan of pain from slipping through his lips. Something was wrong with his ankle, he had hurt it. He had to get home though and stood reluctantly. His ankle protested, but he managed to get the foot to respond well enough, and limped to the inkwell.

The additional weight certainly didn't help his injury. Still he couldn't abandon the reason he went this far and managed to make it to the Library. Upon entering a new sound entered his audio receptors and he winced at the sound of One and Seven bickering. It wasn't really fighting, not real fighting, but they were both annoyed and taking it out on each other. He could hear Two trying to break them apart which meant that he wasn't able to be reached for help without One and Seven finding out. In fact, they would find out if Two knew, then everyone would know.

Six knew what the others thought of him. They thought he was unstable, which he was at times, but they thought he was too unstable to be trusted alone. That he was unable to watch himself or take care of himself and this was the last thing he wanted. He didn't want them to become excessively protective like they were of the twins. He wasn't a child and didn't want to forever be treated like one, like less than even the twins, merely because he wasn't as sane as the others were. Because of this he suddenly decided that he didn't want to give them another reason to doubt him.

Instead he pitifully limped to his bedroom, wincing at every step. He dropped the inkwell by the old one, peeled off his key and dropped it on the floor, and crossed to the bedding where he lifted a somewhat stained and shredded blanket before beginning to rub it on himself in an attempt to dry off. He hurried as he didn't want to keep his key off for long, but it was difficult to dry properly with it cinched around his neck.

"Have fun out there?"

Six's head shot up and spun back to see the last Stitchpunk he wanted to see standing in the doorway. There was Eight, smirking at him, and Six knew why; Eight knew that he could hold this over his head as a form of blackmail. It only grew worst when Eight strode over to his key and lifted it as the Artist forced himself up. "Wait!" He nearly begged and Eight raised a brow at him, "Didn't think you actually took this thing off." The evil look suggested that Eight was going to probably taunt Six with it.

The striped one forced himself to approach and Eight's optics changed their focus as Six reached out, "No! Please!" He was practically begging before Eight suddenly broke out with, "Something's wrong with your leg." As though Six didn't notice. Six's interest shifted and suddenly, instead of focusing on the key, he realized that he had to hide the injury, especially from Eight. He tried to turn his body to shield it from view, but the Guard had already seen, and wasn't going to let it slide by. Six wondered if it really looked that bad that it would have Eight concerned.

"Let me see it." Eight insisted and his suddenly strict tone made Six afraid to resist and stumbled back towards the bed slowly. Six had a strange feeling of shame inside as he sat down upon his bedding and slid his ankle out to allow the other to see it. The Guard kneeled down and dropped the key to the floor nearby, though out of Six's reach, and looked over the injury. "I don't want to know how you did this to yourself." He muttered and the mere comment made the smaller shiver, "It's bad?"

"Yeah." Eight pointed out and Six's brows furrowed in horror. "But it's a quick fix. You wrenched it out so you just shove it back into place." It didn't sound pleasant and Eight pulled back, "You should have got this fixed earlier, Six. What were you thinking walking around with this?" the other was clearly ashamed now, being scolded by the one who cared the least, and knew this meant that the others would be just as strict as he imagined. The male started to stand, "I'll go find Two."

"No!" Six cried out a bit too loudly and only secured Eight in more confusion, just staring at Six as though he was speaking another language. Six continued, "Don't tell, please, they'll-…" He faded out, unsure what to say, and the other just stared at him. Then, suddenly, Eight exhaled a bit, rubbing his head. He then spoke, "You can't leave it like that. If you're that bent on keeping it quiet I can do it myself." Six's optics widened in surprise at this, "You?" He was surprised that Eight was actually willing to help more than actually wondering how Eight could help, which Eight assumed.

"I'm not Five, but I know what I'm doing." Eight kneeled back down, "It's an easy fix. I've popped my shoulder back into place about… Probably three times. Maybe more, doesn't really matter. But it's going to hurt." Six winced at the mention of pain, but actually trusted Eight, seeing as the Guard was being so serious about the entire event. It was almost like he really did care and it made the smaller feel strangely warm in his belly. Almost distracting him from the fact that he was about to receive medical treatment from Eight of all Stitchpunks.

"Hold this." Eight commanded as he tossed the key into Six's hands, "You'll rip anything else." Six suddenly wondered if telling the others would be that bad, because now Eight was acting like he was going to actually tear his leg apart. Six's breath quickened a bit as Eight looked over his ankle, holding it somewhat firmly. Then, suddenly, Eight spoke, "The wall." And gestured with his head to the far corner of the room. Six blinked and looked over towards the wall in an attempt to figure out what he meant.

At that second there was a sharp pain and Six briefly cried out in pain before hearing a sharp snapping noise. Apparently Eight's previous comment was merely a distraction. From the pain he thought that Eight had actually broke his leg and looked down to access the damage. Instead, he was surprised to see that his ankle looked normal again and tested it. There was a dull pain, but it was able to move unhinged, and Six was thrilled with a wide smile, "You… You fixed it!"

His body suddenly reacted without his control and Six nearly dove forward off of the bed to embrace Eight. It wasn't until after his arms were wrapped around Eight's neck that he realized what he was doing. The Guard sort of sat there stiffly as Six's face alit in shock. He could only stay still and unmoving as he tried to figure out how to reverse the current situation he got himself in. He expected Eight to react, but not as he did. Eight actually rested a hand briefly on his back over the inked print of his '6', giving it a gentle pat.

The Guard didn't actually say anything and when Six pulled himself back in a flustered mess decide to merely shrug it off, "It looked a lot worse than it was. Was it a Beast?" The striped one looked down shyly and spoke, "No…" he murmured, admitting the embarrassing truth, "I fell… Down a hill, hurt my leg in a hole." Eight stood to his feet, "Next time you head out alone, don't throw yourself down a hill, okay?" It wasn't the normal Eight tone. It wasn't a bullying taunting and it wasn't irritated or angered. Instead, it seemed too concerned to be Eight, too passive.

It confused Six even more when Eight bluntly started to leave. Apparently the whole event had thrown off whatever Eight had planned for Six and he had simply decided to forget about the attack. "Wait." Six meekly spoke out, clutching his key tightly as he went to stand. Indeed, the ankle still stung, but it was now responding correctly. "I'm not going to tell One." Eight called back from the doorway, "There's no reason to get him brought into this now that it's over."

Still, Six spoke again, "No, wait." He practically pleaded before heading over to the other side of the room where he had left the unfinished drawing on the floor. He lifted it in his grasp, looking over it, before turning to Eight who was now watching him in questioning. "Here." Six insisted before handing the Seamstress drawing to the Guard, "I… I want you to have it." Eight reached forward and took it from the Artist's grasp before looking it over. Six didn't know what he would do with it, maybe tear it up at his own leisure, but he hoped it was enough to show his thanks for helping him. Except for the awkward hug.

Then, suddenly, Eight handed it back, "Finish it up, then I'll take it." It was a friendly tone and Six smiled a pleasant smile in return, "Okay. I will." Then Eight exited Six's makeshift room, heading out into the Library with what Six swore was a little bit of his own smile, probably of amusement from the entire event. The Artist watched him go and felt the warm in his belly begin to grow and spread. Suddenly he wanted to draw again and wanted to make absolutely sure that the Seamstress drawing turned out perfect for Eight. It was the least he could do after Eight helped him.

Maybe, just maybe, Eight didn't hate him as much as he thought. Maybe that meant that there was still a chance for them to become something other than what they were. Maybe that even meant that the drawing would make Eight like him more, and if this was this case then Six was glad to dedicate all of his time to making the best pictures for him. Then maybe they could do more together; maybe he would even embrace the Guard again…

He was going to need more ink.

FIN

Mable: Not excessive romance, more subtle, but I wanted to try that. I usually add a lot of kisses, but this time I only put a hug. I still hope it gives the warm and fuzzy feeling I was going for. I hope everyone enjoyed!