R2 decided then that he thoroughly disliked humans. He picked up way too much from them, including the mannerisms that ended him up in such a stupid-ass situation as this. R2, in his original mechanics, wouldn't have run, maybe in a worst case scenario he would have gone into standby- a sleep mode. For his actions he decided to blame Luke, who had a bad habit of running away to avoid facing something he didn't want to face.

There was a warmth radiating from the ground, the heat absorbed and contained in the small crystals was bouncing back at him and he could feel that heat more acutely now than ever. Odd coloured eyes closed tightly as a gust of wind blew the dirt up in furious little clouds, allowing them to open again as everything settled. What he had done was stupid. He could almost feel the immense moronic base of his actions, a small regret teasing his code. He hated humans, and he was now embedded with a program to be like one it seemed.

Perhaps hate was a strong word, as he didn't necessarily actually dislike the organic beings themselves, but rather their confusing mess of emotions and peculiar customs and mannerisms that he now found himself partaking in.

R2 flopped back, limbs spread wide against the dry ground. He stared at the sky, willing it's dancing colours to tell him answers. What was it he was feeling, usually he was easier to read.

With a groan tanned hands came up to cover his eyes. There was something there, pulling at him incessantly. Like a nagging bug, or a virus, though that was unlikely as he's just had a thorough check thanks to his little motivator malfunction.

Then there was something else. A concern, one that he quickly realized wasn't his own. 3PO was giving off a high-wired signal. The shrill sound alarming in itself, and R2 could almost hear that whiney tenor trilling through the halls as he searched for the astromech.

Something was stinging, but he didn't know if it was in his systems of 3PO's.

He wasn't entirely sure why he ran.

No, that wasn't true. He was overwhelmed, confused. All of those thoughts, every little one that he had felt like it was crossing a line that he was unwelcome to cross. That was something he had never once experienced with the protocol droid before.

Thinking about it made his circuitry buzz, heating his systems uncomfortably. He never stopped thinking about C-3PO. There was always something in his conscious unit, as though a space had been permanently reserved, for somthing about 3PO. How he looked. How annoying he was. How high-strung. How his voice sounded. Where he was. What he had been doing. How he reacted. There was never a lull, always something to think.

He smacked at his head, the heel of his palm whacking solidly against his forehead. What was the point of thinking about that, realizing it now?

The high frequency waves sent out by 3PO hit him once again, and he sat up, shaking the dirt out of his hair.

Their emotions were synthetic, differing in leaps and bounds from those possessed by organic beings. That's what he repeated steadily to himself as he began a shame filled trudge back to the central base building. As soon as the mechanised doors slid open R2 was assaulted, a strong bash at his shoulder was closely followed by a tirade by the object of his discomfort.

"Where in the world did you go!? And what was that? How dare you talk to me in such a way! Has your motivator begun malfunctioning again? Really, I don't know why they haven't deactivated you by now, surely you're more trouble than you are a help!" There was a short noise that assimilated something of a huff. That unnatural pink was rising on the tops of 3PO's cheeks, lighting up his eyes which were already tinged with concern despite his supposedly harsh words.

The taller droid's mouth opened once again, no doubt ready to open the floodgates to another wave of meaningless insults and complaints. R2's eyes rolled up to the ceiling. Some things never change, no matter how they may look on the outside, their cores remained the same.

One large, and work worn hand laid on 3PO's back as R2 turned up a broad grin.

"Aw, you were worried about me. I'm touched."

The protocol droid sputtered a bit. The noise and action itself should have been below him, but there was yet another spoil of prolonged exposure to angst ridden, awkward organics. R2 didn't necessarily know that this was the cause, but he was sure as hell going to blame them for it regardless- but this in no way reflected how he felt about the way that 3PO stuttered, paused, the unusual shade of pink rising to his cheeks.

The astromech's tongue poked out of the side of his mouth in a teasing manner as he applied a gentle pressure where his hand rested at the small of 3PO's back. As the strand of fast paced words spilled over the taller droid's lips there was little resistance to be had against R2's movement. As they rounded the corner Poe and Finn came into view, the pilot's hand coming up in a friendly wave, mouth twitching as 3PO's complaints bounced off of the walls. He continued to push the other droid along, giving the brunette a short salute and noticing what seemed to be a small exchange of credits between the two as the droids walked past.

It clicked, and as the rounded the next corner R2's mouth had twitched up into something of a devious grin. Finn hadn't been disturbed by their proximity, he had lost a bet. The astromech would have to remember to give Poe a high-five when he saw him next, the clever bastard.

He shook his head, but what bet? About them certainly, but what about them exactly? That he would have to ask about.

"Are you even listening to me you inconsiderate, rude-"

He barked out a laugh as his attention turned back to the other droid, his hand shifting from its place at the small of his back with R2's movement. 3PO twisted sharply to the side, face contorted in something akin to distaste.

"Ah, can it. What d'you even have to complain about right now?"

"Excuse me! I hardly ever complain you rude little-"

"So what was it you were talking about then?"

3PO blinked a few times, as though the question was unreasonable or unclear.

He rolled his eyes, his arm slipping further around the protocol droid of its own accord, hand gently clasping around a slim side. Despite the closer proximity, neither of them really noticed that they were nearly pressed together at the side.

"You."

He hummed.

"What is it that is wrong with you? Is your motivator malfunctioning again?"

The words should have seemed rude, mean almost, but they were tinged with such concern and were of course coming from 3PO, and therefore their meaning was changed. R2 looked up, trusting that 3PO would continue to lead them through the halls and to the room that they had been assigned.

The astromech shook his head. "I don't know."

He could feel the droid bristle at that. If anything, R2 hardly ever admitted that he didn't know something. He would often work to differ, doge, or even go as far as to make something up to avoid saying that he didn't know something- unless it was a situation with a levity which called for urgent and complete truth.

3PO pulled him to a stop just outside the sliding doors of their room. Thin hands skirted around his face and shoulders as though looking for something. R2's face twisted into an expression that mirrored his feeling of being weirded out. As golden eyes met with odd coloured ones, that little blush bloomed back over 3PO's face.

"You feel as though you may be overheated." The taller stated. Concise words that fell from his mouth like a stream of water, made sweeter by the slight accent he possessed. "Perhaps you should have a cool down." The blonde stood awkwardly, bent over just a bit to look at R2.

He rolled his eyes, and lifted up a hand to pat against 3PO's pink cheek. They felt unusually cool, soft, and the pale colour was a stark contrast to the pigmentation of his own synthetic skin.

"I'm fine, but if it'll make you feel better…" He shrugged and dropped his hand down to grab the taller droids. "But on the condition that you have to rest with me."

"I don't need the rest R2, in fact I should probably see if I am needed-"

"By General Organa who specifically ordered that we rest?"

The accented words stuttered to a stop.

"Fine."

A genuine smile stretched over his lips. "Good."

"Someday you'll get us both killed…" 3PO's voice trailed off, low grumbling filling up the space between them as the doors slid back to close off the room.

At least this would give his whirring mechanics time to settle...Damn life, being so damn unpredictable. It needed to farking stop, he thought...though he didn't really mean it. Why? He didn't know.

They don't see it...Poe does.

I hope you enjoyed!

~Castor