Number Two (Diego Hargreeves) (secondumbrella) wrote in valloic, @ 2022-08-30 09:47:00 |
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Entry tags: | !: action/thread/log, the umbrella academy: diego hargreeves, ₴ inactive: viktor |
Who: Diego and Viktor, hooray!
What: Thai food and robots
When: Today, why not.
Where: Viktor's lab
Warnings: Viktor learns the phrase 'eat the fucking rich'.
It was mid-afternoon, and Viktor was only half-expecting Diego to visit. He’d issued an invitation for him to do so this morning following their biweekly workout, but he’d long since learned that planning for Diego Hargreeves was like trying to schedule a stray cat; you had to expect nothing and be pleased with whatever you got. Viktor didn’t mind; he was hardly socially reliable himself with as easily as he fell into projects and came up for air hours later. And so he was deep into working on the segmenting of Blitzcrank’s joints; the little robot had been shut down for ease of access, and Viktor had him on his desk, carefully working on giving his hands more articulation than they had previously possessed.
This morning’s workout had gone well. Viktor would never be an athlete, nor would he ever be able to truly challenge himself without being punished by the shortcomings of either his skeleton or his lungs, but he was the healthiest he had been in years, and absolutely stronger than he had ever been. He credited most of it to Diego, not only for being a good trainer in general but for not treating him as if he were made of glass. Somehow, Diego pushed him just enough to get progress, but not enough to injure him or render him set backs. Viktor could build a body made of metal, but he couldn’t begin to understand how to help it get better. He was glad of the other man, for as gruff as he could be.
The gruffness was on full display as Diego all but stomped through the lab. Subtlety was not his forte, either in how he talked to people or how he handled, well, anything. He had never been and would never be everyone’s cup of tea, not when he was a giant glass of moonshine, strong enough to strip paint. There were people who liked him anyway which, fucking duh, he was amazing, so that was no surprise there.
Diego stopped at the table where Viktor was bent over. He thrust a plastic bag at him, filled with aromatic plastic containers. “Here. Pad See Ew with chicken and Chinese broccoli. There’s some crab rangoon and chicken satay in there too. Eat up, you probably haven’t even thought about food in fucking hours, what the fuck.” Please don’t mention it, Viktor, much like that feral cat, Diego tended to lash out when cornered and run tail when confronted with something.
His tone, however, softened ever so slightly when he caught sight of Blitzcrank turned off. “Hey there, buddy, you doing okay?” He couldn’t help it. The whole thing never failed to remind him of Grace, the closest thing he had to a mom–to a parent. Even if she had been a robot, Diego knew that Grace had loved the Hargreeves children. Perhap it was with the caveat of ‘as much as she could’ but it was still there, and more than Reginald ever had. Grace was the one who helped him with his stutter, Grace was the one who bandaged them up, Grace was the one who remembered their favorite meals and knew when they needed smiley face pancakes. Everyone else may have thought of her as a robot, but some of Diego’s best memories involved sitting with Grace in front of her wall of paintings. Naturally, that sort of extended to Blitzcrank, and really, any robot with a personality.
Again, please don’t mention it, Viktor.
Viktor’s eyebrows raised, but he didn’t refuse the gift: he’d gone hungry too many times to have any kind of forbidding pride associated with accepting food. “Thank you, how thoughtful,” he said, and carefully set Blitzcrank to the side so that he could open up the containers. It was enough food for an army; so Viktor nudged one set of chopsticks toward Diego, a silent offer to share.
He ate with the sort of quick wolfishness that came from a life of never being quite sure how much time you had to enjoy anything. Still, his table manners were polite - you didn’t survive off of cheese plates at soirees only to alienate the wealthy. Swallowing, Viktor glanced at Blitzcrank, taking in Diego’s clear soft interest in the little robot. “I’m upgrading his hands,” he said, and unnecessarily made a claw with his left hand, flexing his fingers, to ensure his goal was clear. “He expressed an interest in picking flowers a few days ago, and to do so without harming the plant required delicacy, you know, so.” He popped another bite of broccoli into his mouth, chewed, swallowed. He’d been Heimerdinger’s teaching assistant for long enough to know the subtleties of learning. Some students liked a direct approach. Others feigned a lack of interest, a toughness that overlaid their curiosity. “I could use some help with it,” he said lightly, and it wasn’t true at all, but Diego seemed like he’d appreciate the chance and Viktor never minded involving people in his work provided that they were careful and respectful. “If you’d like. It will be easy for me to secure a few bolts if you can hold him a specific way.”
Somewhat predictably, Diego went for the chicken satay, as protein on a stick was going to be hard to beat. He tended to be less disciplined about food than he was about his exercise routine and his teetotaling. Living with Jacob and Serefin had helped with that, left to his own devices Diego may have existed on raw eggs and protein shakes but the two of them gave him an excuse to cook actual meals. He had always been better about taking care of others–actual care, not perfunctory work--than himself.
He wanted to protest the request, because Diego was usually contradictory, but also because he knew that robotics and engineering weren’t his strength. Reginald Hargreeves had wanted well-rounded child vigilantes, after all, but he also wanted their education to assist in their powers/the future he had designed. Luther had gotten the mechanical teachings on account of the whole moon bullshit. Diego learned more than he ever needed to know about physics, angles, friction, windspeed, whatever whatever whatever. He had learned when something was going wrong with Grace’s programming but that came from knowing her, instead of knowing that something was wrong with her wiring.
Still, holding Blitzcrank, that he could do.
“Sure,” Diego said, shrugging as he finished off a stick of chicken and wiped his hands on a napkin. “Just show me how.” And normally he’d do everything with an over the top braggadocious swagger to him but that usually meant Diego was forcing something. Usually his body. Through a glass window. When the door was unlocked. But for this, he didn’t want to hurt the robot, especially not when he was powered down and couldn’t say that something was wrong.
Viktor wiped his hands clean and carefully set the food to the side where it wouldn’t be in the way, giving it a longing expression that clearly indicated he’d happily eat it when it was cold and had been there for a few hours if he had to. “Okay, watch,” he said, and demonstrated where Diego’s hands should go, giving a slightly exaggerated little gesture as he did so. He then handed the robot over, setting his chin in a determined expression. “Now, you.”
It’d be easier to get the joints upgraded with Diego. Jayce often assisted with Blitzcrank, and sometimes Mel, but they were both busy with their own projects, and Viktor was not great with asking for help. But well, Diego had presented himself, and Viktor understood as someone who didn’t much like charity himself that now Diego would feel useful rather than mollified. And he liked showing off Blitzcrank.
“I am rather glad that I was here, when I was able to build this prototype,” he said off-handedly, conversationally, as he grabbed his tools. “I had plans for Blitzcrank to clean up the Undercity. Where I’m from,” he clarified, and started in on Blitzcrank’s left gripper. “The water, it is too dangerous to be assessed without a lot of security apparatus. A robot could safely approach it and potentially treat it. But…” he glanced at Blitzcrank, fond, though his tone was sharp. “He would have been misused, I worry. Most of our inventions were. Such technology often wound up as curiosities in the homes of the wealthy.”
A beat later, his hands stilled, and he looked abruptly concerned. “...I did not mean to be insensitive, there.” Not an apology. Viktor was not sorry, and he knew his words to be true. But he didn’t blame Diego for how he had been raised, by a rich man who left emotional rearing to a robot.
Diego’s focus tended to be one of two extremes: either he paid literally no attention to what was going on or he saw everything, his attention as sharp and fine as the blades he threw. This time, of course, it was the latter, like Diego was studying everything Viktor had to say and was just waiting for him to make a mistake so he could charge. Nothing personal, Viktor, Diego was just a hot headed idiot.
But he took position behind Blitzcrank, saying as he did, “Here you go, buddy, I’m going to hold you for a while, don’t freak out on me, okay?” Diego’s softer moments were few and far between, but perhaps more numerous and closer together than he’d like to admit.
He waved off the not-apology, because Diego wasn’t even close to offended by it. “Eat the fucking rich,” he replied, with a shrug. “I didn’t know anyone else with a robot–granted, we weren’t really allowed to know anyone else growing up, but. Eccentric billionaire Reginald Hargreeves and all.” Complete with an eye roll so fierce Diego’s eyes threatened to roll right out of his head. “What do you want him to do here?”
Viktor had noticed Diego’s close attention - you’d have to be braindead not to notice the purposeful glare of perception - but he swiftly lost himself in his work, removing the prototypical grasping mechanism at the hinge of the little robot’s wrist. His hands were delicate but strong, and for this he had opted to keep his gloves off, exposing the threads of livid purple at his fingertips from the botched augmentation he’d performed on himself. Diego wouldn’t care, and he didn’t want to screw up Blitzcrank’s operation out of pride.
“Eat the fucking rich,” he murmured confusedly as he began to upgrade the joint. It was a good phrase! He was fairly sure not to take it literally. Viktor had learned so many here at Vallo, but it was nice to have a new one. “Eat the fucking rich! I like it,” he repeated, more confidently now, and took a little step away from the robot to admire his work from afar. Looked good. Time for the other hand.
“I thought he might work beneath the Enki coven’s green initiative,” he answered, looking up at Diego with a small smile. “It seems a, uh… a good fit.” There, he’d deployed an English phrase of his own; good job Viktor. “But I am not going to push him. He is still learning so much, and I don’t want to curb that due to my own ambitions.” He shrugged, and started work on another hand. “I don’t want to make him into whatever I want, you know what I mean? My parents, they were artists. Good ones. They went from paintings to working with their hands, making things for homes. They were a little confused by my own interest in science, but they supported me. I want to be like that, you know? Not like… eccentric billionaire Reginald Hargreeves.” Because it seemed safe to assume that the man had control issues. Imagine, being kept away from other children. No wonder Diego and his siblings were so-- focused.
A smile tugged at the corner of Diego’s mouth, loathe though he was to reveal it. He couldn’t help it. The whole thing did sound ridiculous coming out of Viktor’s mouth, even if he was using it correctly. Still, Diego was Diego and he tried to overcompensate for the display of amusement by scowling. He only managed to look slightly compensated.
“I think that’s a start, at least,” he offered. “I mean, just being fucking conscious of what you don’t want to be like gives you something to weigh yourself against. And I guess the opposite is true too. Knowing what you want.” For so long Diego only had ‘not like my dad’ as the guidepost that colored everything else in his life in anger and bitterness and reckless vigilantism. But time had, well, not softened him, but given him other things to be, and want to be.
“What else were they like?” Diego asked. Small talk had never been his forte, he would have been content sitting in silence with Viktor, but oh well. Here they were. “Your parents, I mean. In case it wasn’t fucking crystal clear.”
Viktor was surprised at the question, in the way that he usually was when someone showed an interest in him as a person. Jayce had always been that way, and Mel was now, but… well, he was used to skimming by, unnoticed. “They were…” he tightened a bolt at Blitzcrank’s wrist, and considered his words. “...musical. My father played with some friends of his from the old country, sometimes. I would hear them practice in the living room when I was supposed to be asleep.” He double, then triple-checked his work. “Mother was the accountant between them; she was good with numbers, with planning things. He was a dreamer. They balanced one another out, I think.”
Viktor gave a little nod, pleased at his work. He didn’t add anything about his parents’ demise, because it was obvious, and he never minded talking about them. Talking kept the memories alive. “I think,” he declared, “you might place him on the floor, and we might return power to Blitzcrank, and see how he likes our work. Unless,” he added, a teasing glint in his eye, “you are too busy, and wish to go.” Viktor knew damn well Diego wouldn’t want to head out, but he liked being a little shit from time to time.
“Good relationships are usually about that,” Diego said, rare again in his thoughtfulness. Because, you know, he was so successful in his relationships. But it was something he believed, at least, that being in a relationship with someone was about strengthening the others’ weaknesses, allowing your weaknesses to be strengthened in turn, and being there through thick and thin. Romantic shit like that.
His eyebrows lifted in disbelief at Viktor’s ‘you wish to go,’ and responded by casually, but very blatantly, lifting both middle fingers in the air. There was another slang lesson for you, Viktor! “Fuck you,” Diego replied, in case it wasn’t perfectly clear what that meant! But given that Serefin was one of his closest friends, Diego’s offense at the sass was clearly put on. “One more time, I’m going to lift you and put you down, buddy, you’re good.” Again, that was to Blitzcrank, and Diego even waited a second before carefully setting the robot down–he wasn’t a fucking barbell for a deadlift, after all, and Diego wanted to make sure that he wasn’t too jostled by the transition.
“Alright, have at it.”
It figured that the nice moment of camaraderie had been punctuated by Viktor getting flicked off. He knew what that one meant; he rolled his eyes with a grin and took a step back as Diego set the robot down on the ground. “I grew up on the streets, Diego,” he reminded the other man, but he wasn’t bothered by either the gesture or the teasing, already grabbing his cane and slowly, deliberately lowering himself so that he could get at the robot’s power button. It hurt - he winced, just a little, his leg giving him crap like it always did - but he knew that he wouldn’t have been able to do it without falling even two months before, and well. It was nice having Diego here and caring about Blitzcrank, but he had also done very well by him, hadn’t he, with all the training he had put Viktor through?
Viktor slid the safety button off before flicking the power on to the little robot, regarding it silently as it began to boot up.
“Hello--” Viktor said, but Blitzcrank was already staring at his new hands, clacking his fingers, rotating them about left and right. “I hope those are better for you? How do they feel? No pain, I hope?”
The robot chirped a cheerful “Thanks, I feel great!” before grabbing Diego’s pant leg and giving it a tug.
Viktor huffed under his breath. “I’d better get him something to hold, and play with, to get used to his new articulation.” He put weight on his cane and gracelessly got to his feet, wincing, but smiling too as Blitzcrank walked in a quick circle around Diego’s legs.
Diego turned his focus to Viktor, aware of his movements and motion. He’d worked with him enough to know that his legs weren’t going to fail him at any given moment, and he trusted that Viktor was self-aware enough to–well, okay, wait, this was the same idiot who wouldn’t eat for hours on end if he was lost in some science-y thing, so maybe self-aware wasn’t the right word. Diego trusted him to say the difference between accusing Diego of being a sadist for making him do another rep of squats, and when he was actually in pain and couldn’t go any further.
He wasn’t going to do Viktor the disservice of pulling him upright, but Diego would watch him just in case. Such was the cost of being in Diego’s good graces, being someone Diego liked. “Get a ball,” was Diego’s suggestion. “I have some, you start with one and alternate squeezing with your thumb and each finger, and then you move on to two and rotate them around your palm.” He used to spend hours doing that very thing as a way to improve his hand dexterity. Now it was more a meditative thing–not that Diego ever meditated.
Diego didn’t smile, exactly, even though not doing so was harder than fighting the smile against Viktor’s rallying cry for the working class. He crouched down to get on Blitzcrank’s level and patted him on his metallic head. “Hi, I see you. How are those fingers? Let’s see you move them and you can tell Viktor if something doesn’t feel right.”
Viktor felt Diego’s watchful gaze, but didn’t comment on it, and was grateful he didn’t try to help. He didn’t mind assistance when he needed it - Jayce, in particular, had a way of just inserting himself into a situation to help and keep it from getting embarrassing or upsetting - but he was trying to be more sufficient these days. Sufficiency was Viktor’s way.
He did follow the advice, however, looking on his desk until he found a stress ball that would suffice until he got something proper. Handing it to Blitzcrank, he grabbed his notebook and leaned against the lab table, ready to take notes.
Blitzcrank rolled the ball around, tossed it and caught it, before imitating Diego’s hands. “Watch this,” he said with no small amount of satisfaction, and rolled the ball over his metal knuckles only to stop it with two fingers.
“Excellent, definitely an improvement,” Viktor was murmuring, already getting that far-off look in his eyes as he considered next steps. “Perhaps if-- hmm. I’ll need to ask Jayce if--” He wrote a quick note to himself, tapping the pen against his mouth.
Diego fought the half-smile again, this time unsuccessfully. Look, he had never used the word cute before, and he damn sure wasn’t going to use it now, nor was he going to use some word like ‘charmed’ because fuck that noise, but. But
Ugh.
He glanced over at Viktor to make sure the man was engrossed in his work (duh, he was) before giving Blitzcrank a wink and another pat to the shoulder. “Look at you, kicking ass. You keep working on that, okay? Lots of times a day, and then when you get really good, I’ll show you some other ones you can do.” Which meant that yes, of course, Diego was going to come back, that shouldn’t have been a surprise to anyone.
“Hey,” he called out to Viktor, a quick, snappy word meant to get his attention right away. “Stop writing and get to eating, huh? Maybe you can show Blitzcrank here how to use chopsticks.”