#aoooaaaa i really like etho and doc together... i think they could be soooo silly

[tunastime]

SEVEN!!! (plus three)

aaaaaaaaaaaaalright, lets see this time what we got...

alright shep this one works great LOL. I remember you sending a whole bunch, so this one ended up perfect :3 a very classic doc song if I do say so myself! (659 words)

Doc pulls his cheek between his teeth.

This would be a lot easier if he could use his other hand. But. Well. As his situation was currently playing out, his other hand was currently sprawled out on the desk in front of him. And his other hand was also, in an odd sort of way, two other hands, who belonged to Etho. Who was not him, but leaned over the workbench at the other side with the same pulled-tight-in-concentration expression as Doc did. Etho tilts his head. Doc can’t see the twist of his mouth, given the scarring across part of his face and the mask he has over his nose and mouth to help with particulates as they work, but he can tell from the rapidly forming crease between Etho’s eyebrows, alongside his own exasperated expression, that. Well.

“Not sure we can work around this next one,” Etho grumbles, wrinkling his nose. Doc sighs out through his teeth, letting his cheek go as he drags his tongue over the spot he’d worried. 

“Code-wise?” Doc asks. “Or is it completely mechanical?”

Etho hums.

“Well, last time we fixed it, we didn’t touch any code, so the way it was communicating touch and feeling was still the same. We just adjusted the hardware so it was better at picking up those signals. Since I remember last time, you were still having issues trying to feel for like… push-pins and pens and little rocks—”

Doc swats at Etho’s head from across the table. Etho barks out a laugh as he winces.

“Aow—kidding!” he wheezes. Doc grumbles, rolling his eyes.

“Whatever man,” he sighs. “Yeah, the signal strength still sucks balls. But you’re saying we can’t fix it, no?”

“Maybe,” Etho hums. “Just going to be hard.”

“Is it going to be hard? Or is it going to take a long time?”

Etho looks over at him, tilting his head not unlike a dog trying to understand common.

“I guess just a long time? It’s a lot to sort through, but it’s not very complex,” he says, shrugging his shoulders slightly.

“Good,” Doc sighs. “We can deal with long, but I don’t think we can deal with tough.”

“You think?” Etho asks, but the way he says it gives Doc more than enough suggestion that he’s being sarcastic. Doc snorts, but doesn’t reply. Instead, he props one knee up on the stool he’s sitting on and uses the leverage to lean over the table. He plants a hand flat on the workbench to balance himself. This is his only arm, again, given that the other is affixed to the table with half its maintenance chambers open and a mess of wires where the metal, magnetic ports usually sit. It’s not like Doc has a gaping wound in his side, and the disabled connection port on his right shoulder isn’t tender or painful to the touch, but the weightlessness of the open port is a constant reminder of what’s sitting on the table in front of him.

To think he used to take it off every night. What a moron.

From this angle, he can see what Etho’s been working on a little better. He’s digging around in all of the maintenance files looking for the most recent update. It was always better to edit the most recent update, patch in whatever code they wanted to alter, and push their newer, self-generated update forward. That way if the technical support team got onto him, he could blame it on a faulty download.

It had worked a couple of times so far, so. 

Doc pulls his cheek between his teeth again, worrying absently. His eyes skip over a fresh section of code and he immediately feels his brain numb. 

Fuck, he sighs through his nose. “This is going to take forever.”

“No time like the present, Doc,” Etho hums, and flicks his wrist, sending a copy of his monitor’s display to the main view-board.

(send me a number between 1-100 and I'll write a little something based on the song!)