Chapter Text
Ignoring Cliff was easy. Larry had spent the better part of his life ignoring the scratching at the back of his skull and the shiver that came up his spine whenever he encountered a particularly tantalizing member of the male species. So ignoring the gravelly sound of Cliff’s voice, the dry humor and irritatingly piercing eyes was easy. It had been a while since Larry had to do such a thing, he hadn't seen John in decades and the company around the manor was limited. Sure he had a little ache in his chest whenever Cary Grant came on screen in one of Rita’s movies, but largely he lived his life without much want of anything anymore. He tended his plants and sat with Rita in the evenings while she knit. Things were peaceful and quiet and he supposed its all he could need.
But when The Chief said there would be a new member of the family his interest was piqued and that ugly thing called want reared its head. Cliff was not really human in the physical sense. He was all metal and sharp edges and inhumanly tall. He was ugly in many ways, but Larry thought he was more human than the rest of them combined.
The two had been sitting in the living room when the feeling really struck him. Rita was in her room brushing her hair or practicing lines from one of her favorite films and Jane or the Hang Man’s Daughter was outside painting, so it ended up just the two of them. They began their viewing of what Cliff deemed the best action movies of his decade on either end of the couch. Larry sat stiff, somewhat awkwardly picking at the hem of his jacket.
Throughout the movie he grew a little more comfortable, enjoying the way Cliff’s laugh rumbled out of his chest and the way he pointed out particularly gnarly explosions. They subconsciously began to slot next to one another, a large metal arm making itself comfortable over the back of the couch, Larry tucking his feet underneath himself on the plush cushions. When Larry finally grew tired and lost interest in the movie marathon he tucked his head next to the robot next to him. The perks of a man who couldn't feel meant Larry didn't have to own up to his growing feelings or the way his heart constricted in his chest.
“You two look comfortable” Hammerhead’s voice came from the doorway, hands on her hips and cold stare piercing the two of them. That was Larry’s cue to flee, he stood abruptly, giving a quick motion of a wave to hammerhead and a half hearted thanks to Cliff for the company.
That day was when Larry started to really come to terms with the seriousness of his feelings. Cliff was a real man in a way he never thought he’d be able to have. John was the love of his life back then, but he was the only man he had available and they spent most of their moments together in the back of his truck. They couldn't curl up at the end of a day and watch films or go for walks or even hold hands. Larry began to let himself want for another chance, another life, another go at this thing called intimacy.
He admired Cliff and all his sharp edges and surprisingly human tendencies. The way he mourned for his family, the way he talked about his daughter, it cut daggers into Larry and forced him to think about all the things he wanted. A family, a good man, another chance at all this stuff. But he had honed skills at ignoring his own feelings, rationalizing away his wants and needs.
What was not easy was ignoring the negative energy spirit and his particular brand of sadism. It seemed the spirit figured out his little crush on the robot man and found a way to make every interaction with him painful or embarrassing.
This is how Larry found himself mysteriously waking up outside Cliff’s bedroom. He supposed he could put walking down hallways as things that pissed off the spirit. Though he was mortified when he realized not only had the spirit decided it was nap time, it also decided to all but drag Cliff out his door to gawk at Larry. When he came to the metal man was looming over him, eyes curious with a strange hint of humor.
“Larry”
“Cliff” he coughed out, shaken up despite how many times he found himself at the mercy of another being’s whims.
Cliff put out a hand all but hauling up. Larry nearly shivered. His skin was sensitive due to his burns and because of his base levels of radioactivity, he made it a point to not touch people. Though he supposed there wasn’t much of Cliff to give cancer to anymore.
“soooooo….is this 1960s speak for gay hookup?” Cliff had a bit of a nervous lilt to his voice, but the question came off more like an insult than a weird joke.
Larry coughed awkwardly, eyes trained on his boots. “So you uh, know that I’m...?”
“Hammerhead mentioned it, something about a fake family?” He didn’t sound judgmental but something in his voice was hard to place. It made Larry want to punch him, he may not have been attracted to Sheryl but he tried, he tried to do the two kids’ white picket fence life, and he supposed he deserved what he got in the end.
“They were my real family Cliff. You don’t get to judge me” Larry picked up the books he had been carrying, he wanted to return them to Rita before the spirit decided otherwise, but now all he wanted to do was be alone and cuss out this stupid negative energy spirit. “So you can go shove your stupid jokes” There was ice in his voice, he could barely keep from shaking he was embarrassed, frustrated, lonely.
“Look Larry I’m sorry I didn’t mean it like that” Cliff began following after, stiff robotic joints moving slower.
“Forget it Cliff” he barked back, ”you wouldn’t get it anyway”
Maybe Cliff wasn’t who he wanted him to be. Maybe it was just another case of fantasy. He and John never really fit well, they fought, gave each other the cold shoulder, said hurtful things, but he supposed it was all he had. He had no choice then, he was a man filled with want. But now, all that steam burned out and he supposed he could live without wanting. Without a gravelly voice, without warm humor or company at night, who was he kidding in thinking he could indulge such a dream.
Larry all but kept himself the following weeks. He didn’t want to face Cliff after that conversation and he certainly didn’t want to wake up somewhere weird after the negative energy spirit’s revenge. So he read, tended his plants, and stayed in his room late into the night. He had told Rita he was simply feeling tired, she understood, the two had been there long enough that they knew sometimes company was good and others it fueled their internal conflicts.