They'd only been official for less than a day. Bender had asked him out point-blank during break at work a few hours earlier. He'd grown tired of avoiding Fry around the apartment and on the job (if you could call lazing about and watching television all day a "job,") and he certainly had lost his patience very quickly when he'd tried his hand at dropping subtle hints about his peculiar affections for the kid, as Fry wasn't very keen on subtlety, or explicitness for that matter. Naturally, when Bender mustered up the courage to offer to be Fry's boyfriend, just to try it out, Fry was unsure at first. He'd never been with a manbot before, but he'd be lying if he said he'd never thought about it. Bender was attractive, both look and personality-wise. Sleek, silver, and futuristic, but smooth like a 60's greaser with a vulgar sense of humor and a cigar to match; Who wouldn't be fascinated by him? Fry'd always had a thing for robots, anyhow. Ever since he was six, to be exact. And, after all, Bender was his very best friend, Fry loved him a lot. As immature and insensitive as Bender could be sometimes, he'd always stuck by Fry when things were rough, unlike anyone else. And now that he thought about it, Fry was pretty sure that Bender was the only person he knew that had always been supportive of him, regardless of the circumstances. Leela and the other people he'd dated always wanted Fry to change, to become "marriage material," to be someone smart and strong and mysterious, to be someone else. Bender, on the other hand, took him exactly as he was, warts and all. Even that one shaped like a butt on his left hip, because Bender's love was completely unconditional, and Fry knew it. Perhaps it'd been obvious that Bender had developed a crush on him over the years, the way he babied him and cared for him so well, but, again, Fry never caught on to Bender's not-so-indirect flirtation and had no clue. So, with very quick deliberation, and as shocked as he was, Fry agreed to a first step, a sort of "trial-run" of being Bender's boyfriend. Who could turn down such a face?
"None of that gay stuff though." Bender had instructed while they were sitting rigid beside each other, avoiding eye-contact on the Planet Express couch, "I'm not a romo. I just like ya, are we clear? No kissing, no touching, no pet names, no nothin'."
"Oh, uh, okay Bender." Fry'd mumbled in response, staring awkwardly at his untied shoes, more than ready for this touchy conversation to end. "Whatever you say."
"I mean it, Fry. As much as I, uh... you know- we're never gonna do that stuff."
Fry knew Bender meant business, the way his feet were planted onto the floor rather than resting nonchalantly on the table in front of them or on Fry's lap as usual. The last time Fry could recall him taking this stance was a few years back, while he was explaining why he'd gotten so sober that time Fry kicked him out of the apartment, more or less. He admitted a lot to Fry that night, and they both grew closer because of it. They were on their own couch, then- Back when they didn't even have a bathroom installed yet- and Fry had quite a few questions for Bender afterwards. Fry had quite a few questions for him now; When did Bender start crushing on him? What sparked it? Would it be okay if Fry, perhaps, liked him back in that way? If so, where would that leave them? And, most importantly, what the hell were they going to tell the others? But, even with these many confusing and vital questions in mind, Fry refused to say another word or even look at the robot beside him. He wasn't going to ask Bender about his relatively homosexual feelings towards him, considering that he could sense Bender wasn't entirely comfortable talking about them, and had previously specified he wanted none of that gay stuff.
Nothing romantic, nothing dirty, nothing cute- Nothing gay.
And yet, after all of that fuss, not half an hour later, still sitting on that same couch, Bender gradually extended his small, gray hand, and clasped Fry's pudgy fingers within it. Fry pretended not to notice as he watched Elzar chop up some sort of unfortunate extra-terrestrial-type critter on television, but he couldn't help but crack a smile when a stout thumb began to massage his knuckles rather gently.
Fry instantly decided that being with Bender might not be so bad...
Soon, the workday was over, and Bender was standing behind Fry, helping him shrug into his jacket. This was not new like the hand-holding, but an old habit they'd formed after Fry broke his wrist a few years back that never died out, though this particular time, as Bender hiked the coat over Fry's shoulders, he kept his hands there for a moment and gave them a slight squeeze before running his silver palms down Fry's forearms. It felt pretty nice, and Fry wanted him to do it again, maybe kiss his cheek-
(None of that gay stuff.)
Fry sighed a little, disappointed, as Bender walked around to the front of him to look him up and down, a twinge of adoration in his gaze. "I like that jacket on ya. It really tones down your striking resemblance to a pack-mule, heheheh." He chuckled cruelly and Fry rolled his eyes, but had to hand it to him, as Bender had quite the extensive vocabulary when it came to insults.
"Ready to go home, Bender?"
"Yeah, yeah. C'mon, Wiggles. I'm tired of this lousy building today." Bender elbowed Fry amicably and held the door open for him. Who said chivalry was dead? And Fry stepped outside, waiting with his back turned for Bender to follow, but was caught off guard when he felt the robot slip his mitt into the redhead's back pocket and begin to walk. Was this a thing people did when they were dating? Fry hiccupped a little, then, once comfortable with the unfamiliar sensation of having a small, cold claw in his pocket, curled his own arm over Bender's broad shoulders. They walked home like that, ignoring the judgmental snorts and stares they were bound to receive as they did, both feeling awfully content, and a bit strange. The oddest part of it all was that the entire walk back, Fry had the craziest urge to touch Bender's shiny, metal ass, just once. They were technically a couple now anyways. Fry could probably reach down discretely and- (None of that gay stuff.) Bender said it himself. He wasn't a romosexual. Fry supposed he wasn't much of one either, but there had to be some wiggle-room in everyone, and Bender was the one who asked him out, right?
Eventually, the two were back at their apartment. Bender marched in first, and stood impatiently near the door-frame as Fry locked up, still giggling about something Bender had said on the way, something about old ladies wearing flannel nightgowns to "let their wrinkles breathe." And yet again, Fry felt something unexpected; Two thin appendages wrapped around his middle from behind. Bender didn't have the patience to wait for his love to check all two of the locks. He wanted attention now, dammit. Fry craned his neck to watch Bender slip under his arm, then he hugged the robot back for a while. Now this was quite familiar. Bender always gave the best hugs, honest and sweet, despite the occasional wallet-snatching, but Fry knew this particular hug was genuine. His wallet was resting over on the coffee table.
"Hey." Fry murmured, closing his eyes.
"Hmmm." Bender sighed, and Fry could sense him doing the same.
This felt very right; Bender's face tucked into Fry's warm neck, his thick, hollow chest pressed against Fry's soft, doughy tummy, engulfed in his squishy arms. Fitting perfectly like a marble plopped into clay, like a pebble on the silky ocean floor. There wasn't even the stale awkwardness that they'd both been expecting to come home to. Just a really good hug that lasted for a few moments. Fry could only think of one thing to make it better, as blissful as this embrace was, he felt he could maybe pull back, just slightly, just enough to lean down and press his lips to Bender's mouth- (None of that gay stuff.) Fry let a fresh bout of disappointment well in his chest, thinking that the kiss he'd ached for might never happen.
But then, it was happening. Just like that, it was happening! Fry wasn't sure how or when exactly it had started, but Bender must've been thinking the same thing, and spiked to the tippy-toes of his foot-cuffs to press his solid mouth to Fry's tender lips. The redhead made some sort of surprised squeak, his eyes wide open, but quickly sunk into the kiss that tasted like cigars, beer, metal and home. Bender pulled away first and blinked, smiling almost deviously before peering up at Fry who was wearing a confused expression on his stupid, beautiful face.
"Bender, I thought you said that we weren't gonna do any of that." He said dumbly, scratching his head with the hand that wasn't around Bender's lower back.
"I say alotta things, Meatbag." Huffed the robot, dispelling his vow to keep their relationship as heterosexual as possible, (given the circumstances.) He didn't have the self-control or the constraint to perform such a feat. Who would've guessed that Fry of all humans would be so tempting. "Now let's go brush your teeth. You taste like a bar of lavender soap."
Fry sniffled, remembering how curious he was earlier that afternoon while he was washing his hands. "Lavender soap doesn't taste as good as it smells."
"I know, buddy. I know." Bender patted his back and began to lead him to the bathroom where his toothbrush leaned, untouched and bone-dry next to the sink. Besides, teaching the kid to shave wasn't that difficult, so showing him how to thoroughly scrub soap from his molars would be a piece of cake, and a much needed one at that if Fry wanted some more sugar from Bender tonight.
Well, Bender figured, even if the toothpaste didn't help, he'd surely still kiss Fry again. The static-like tingles in the robot's body and the sparks in his mechanical heart he felt when he kissed his meatbag, the one thing in this world or any that he'd always wanted to love, were definitely worth the flavor of antibacterial hand-soap on Fry's warm lips.
But just that. No more than kissing, because Bender was having none of that gay stuff. At least not tonight.
THE END?