"I'm just so.. *frustrated,* y'know?" Venus sighed. "I-I work so hard, as hard as I can, and what do I get out of it? I'm barely scraping by. I'm stressing myself, I don't know how to drive, I don't know how to keep a job-" Her voice hitched, just slightly. She took a breath, and continued. "-I don't even know how to keep myself from melting down every time something doesn't go my way."

Venus wasn't looking at Mars. She couldn't bring herself to. The only light in the room was beaming straight into her face and all around her, highlighting only the highest peaks of the room. It had a tendency to make everything seem more dramatic. The harsh lighting made the sour expression that she could only imagine was plastered on his face all the worse. He was judging her. Surely, he was. She couldn't conjure any reality in which he didn't hold profound contempt for her inability to function like an adult.

She flinched as she felt his hand touch her shoulder. His hand pulled back for a second, before redoubling, slipping just the edges of Mars' fingertips under the hem of her tank. She did her best not to think about her shoulders, her chest, her fat. Her hands, which had been working so deftly on finishing up Ratchet & Clank, entirely from memory, slowed to a stop, like putting invisible brakes on a steam engine. She squinted, and tried to seem nonplussed, her thumbs shifting to idly move the sticks back and forth, watching Ratchet move in circles instead of turning to face her friend.

"I just.." She started, pausing for a moment to collect her words. She knew the right ones, but they couldn't be said, not right now. "I feel like I'm missing out on something. That everyone learned but me. Like I was sick on the worst possible day and now I'm stumbling through life without the information I need to be capable." She hoped that would be an appropriate substitute for her actual feelings.

Mars was quiet for a moment, letting his skin press flush with hers for a bit, before replying. "This world isn't made for every person," Mars began, "It's- It's not made for *any* person. It's a system that views people as numbers. It's a cold machine, and it doesn't stop when you stumble. It just calculates the losses as acceptable."

"But *you* function,' Venus said, with just a trickle of venom in her voice, just enough to give way her feelings.

"You don't see me 24/7. Not the way you see yourself. I've stumbled. I've fallen. I've been where you are now." Mars took a moment to look her over, basking in her presence, the topmost portions of her being highlighted by the steely gray light of the television. Her eyes seemed so black there, so wet- like a dog's eyes, vacant save for a boundless pit of want, right in the center. "..More or less."

Venus pursed her lips, into two lines so small that the fuzzy details of her face now seemed to blend in with each other. She was mouthless now, inscrutable.

It was quiet for a long time. Mars wasn't sure if he should continue. If he should push the boundaries further, to insist- *demand* that Venus acknowledge herself as worthwhile. He retreated instead, but left just the barest touch remaining, the extended fingertips, pressed ever so gently against her shoulder. If he cut the tethers now, they would drift apart, but only one of them was grounded. Venus would drift, further and further, into space. But he couldn't grip her. Not the way he wanted to.

Mars only realized Venus was crying when she spoke, words coming out in choppy, limp sobs. "I-" she failed to start, her voice cracking, forcing her back into herself. "I never even got to be a little girl."

The words weighed heavily on him. He knew Venus' past. Anyone close enough to her knew. Venus was a weapon- she had the barcode tattoo on the back of her neck to prove it. She was made in a laboratory, fully grown, implanted with false memories, and constructed just haphazardly enough that when she collapsed and realized her existence was a lie, it would be on the battlefield.

Only the battle never came. Her project was quietly dismantled. Were it not for the swift actions of a researcher, she would have died there- drowned in the vat she was grown in. Mars still remembered the vomitous feeling, the nausea-inducing hatred that boiled in the pit of his stomach when he first learned. When Venus got scared, whenever she flinched at his approach, he felt that rage all over again. She would call this pity.

"They don't care about that. Nobody does. They all got to live it." Venus said, not moving her hands up from her controller, not even to wipe the flowing tears from her face. They poured from her eyes without end, too much for a normal human, streaming down her cheeks and dropping from her chin onto her chest. Her hands trembled, trying to keep her grip, but at the same time not wanting to clench so hard that the pneumatic tendons, composed of carbon steel fibers, crush the controller into a thousand tiny plastic shards.

"I care," Mars said, but not confidently. It was easy to detect in his voice, the subtle waver, the lump in his throat. He wanted to come across as neutral; he failed. The slightest bit of emotion had slipped out of him.

"You don't understand, though," she replied, "I can't tell people how I feel. I can only imagine the looks they'd give me." Her lips pulled back into a sneer, her fangs bared, as she tossed the controller at her feet. It clattered uselessly against the stool she had wedged herself behind. "Why would a monster like me ever want to be a little girl? For what sickening little purposes would a changeling want to be a child?" Venus' hands gripped hard again, but without the controller, the rapidly calcifying spurs on the tips of her fingernails dug into her hyperdurable palms. She was designed to withstand tank fire-- but Mars could see blood pooling in her grip. "They think I'm a freak. That I would only want to be a girl for some horrible reason. Like some pervert."

Venus began rocking back and forth, seething, breathing in deep, back, forth, back, forth. "I'm not sick, not like that," she groaned, hissing low sobs through her teeth, "I'm not, I'm not, I promise I'm not."

Her fitful rocking continued, back, forth, back, forth, until she rocked forward into Mars' palm. Her body jolted in surprise, her pale skin ossifying and erupting into spurs at the point of contact. Mars hissed in pain, but refused to pull away. Quickly, Mars leaned down, and wrapped himself around her. He felt tiny stony spikes dig into his body, all over her body, but didn't dare pull back, breathing deep and clutching her tightly.

"I know," Mars mumbled, "I'm sorry. You didn't ask to be made like this."

All at once, the dam broke. Venus sobbed, heaving, wracking sobs into Mars' arm. She dry heaved, she coughed, she screamed her heart out into the crook of Mars' arm. She didn't have the strength in her to hold back anymore. She wondered, however briefly, if this is anything close to what it would have felt like if she were to meet her destined fate on the battlefield. If the pain she would have felt then would be anything compared to now-- or if the pain she feels now, however terrible it was that it were nearly pouring out of her throat in thick streams, would still not be half as terrible as the anguish planned for her. Another impossibility.

Eventually, Venus' sobs began to give way to silence. Her screams stopped first, then her coughing, then, finally, her sobs trickled down to sniffling, heavy breathing into the open air of her room that felt so much colder now. "I just wish I had the- the stability, or- or even the chance to have had a bad childhood," She slurred, drunk on the cocktail of hormones flooding her body, endorphins leaving her with an almost pleasant hollow feeling in the center of her chest. "With a, a bad father. One who's rude, or hit me, or molested me, or gave me beers to keep me quiet. Anything would have been better than this.. this *nothing.* I wish I had anything."

Mars clenched tighter, squeezing her to the point where the spindlier of her stony outcroppings broke apart against his flesh. Some dug into him. He didn't stop holding her. He was doing his best not to cry, himself.

"You know," Mars mumbled, making the breaking of his voice sound like an intentional half-chuckle, "..I always thought I'd make for a pretty terrible dad."

The conversation paused, suddenly tense. All that remained was the sounds around them of the game console, the hum of the CRT television, and their own breathing. Even Venus' heaving had stopped, hitching abruptly and settling into a quiet, tearless weeping. It was as if her body had simply run out of tears. Venus' head craned to the side, and gazed up at him. Mars saw her face through the gaps in her long hair, doe eyed and innocent, with black streaks running down her flushed red cheeks. She gazed back up at him, her eyes tracing the curvature of his jaw, imagining what it would be like to run her thumb along his stubbly chin. Mars looked away, suddenly too shy to make eye contact. She noted his fingers digging into the upholstery of the couch, picking idly at the patch of bare leather under his nails. His lips pursed, and his brows furrowed. How awkward.

Then, Venus erupted into laughter; like a pot boiling over, quiet and subtle but nonetheless effective. Her throat, sore from weeping, had given her a gentle, crackly laugh. Her voice, soft and low, so stained by years of anguish parted for a moment in what could only be described as a gentle giggle, pouring out of her lips and into the air around them. It filled every crevice of the room, pushing out and expanding into every corner, until there was nary a single spot left unilluminated by her cackling. She persisted, for a moment, before receding, leaving her quiet, but with a contented grin on her face. "Do you really think so?" Venus asked, holding a finger to her lip, trying to suppress another giggle, "I figured you'd be one of those super sweet parents."

"You think so?" Mars replied, his shoulders lowering and a nervous laugh emerging from his own throat.

"Yeah," Venus replied, "Yeah, yeah, you know, like.. the kind of dad that'd take you to Disneyland, or buy you a big expensive dress for prom, or cry at your wedding." Her smile spread slowly, creeping into the edges of her face as she pictured Mars in her mind. "You seem like you'd be the kind of father who would sit my boyfriend down and give him a firm talking to about respect and treating women right.. or whatever."

"You seem to have put a lot of thought into this," Mars snarked. Venus glanced away and scrunched her face, suddenly shy. Clearly, she had. He tried not to think about that too much-- or the adorable way her nose wrinkled as she cringed. "I don't know, though.. I feel like I'd have to really get my temper in check before I even think about having kids. I wouldn't want to lash out at them, y'know?"

"I'm not sure," Venus said as she lifted her head from Mars' lap. She did not meet his gaze, but she rested her arm on his leg, her hand draping gently onto the inside of his thigh. Her fingertip ran gently over one of the rips in his jeans, strumming the threadbare strings covering his leg. She gnawed at her lip, the light cast on her face highlighting the anxious look on her. "I think.. I think I'd be very happy to have you as a dad."

Mars clenched, his body suddenly wracked with an unusual feeling. It was like a hot needle had suddenly shot through him at a thousand miles an hour, and from the pin-point entry wound, a human warmth flushed outward into his whole body, tensing his muscles and making him feel oddly feverish in a way he had never actually felt before. The closest word he would use was terror, perhaps. Terror and desire, distilled in some neurological alembic and pushed outward all over him. He let out a strained exhale. His eyes suddenly darted around, trying to find anything to focus on, before settling back on Venus.

"Even if you weren't the perfect dad, I think I'd be happy," Venus continued, stammering between words, clearly nervous, "Even if you got mad at me, or shouted, or.."

"Or what?" Mars croaked, leaning forward, pressing his palms down hard into the cushion.

Venus gnawed at her lip, and turned away. "Sorry, That was- That was weird, I know, I'm sorry."

"No," Mars hissed loudly, causing Venus to flinch. "No, I mean.. I get it," he repeated, calmer now, "It means a lot that you think that." He lifted his hand, reaching it out slowly and slipping it through Venus' hair, brushing it back and tucking it shakily behind her ear. His hand slipped down subtly before enveloping her cheek in his palm, his thumb brushing along her cheekbone and pushing away an errant stony ridge off of her cheekbone. "It's sweet."

Venus really was beautiful, in her own way. From what he understood, Venus wasn't intended to be female- though, she wasn't really intended to be anything. A number of studies indicated, though, that armed combatants are more likely to hesitate if faced with firing on a woman, even if she was placing them in immediate danger. So they sculpted her with wide, innocent eyes, and a soft jawline, and a gentle cleft chin. Everything about her was manmade, but she had changed so much in the years following her escape. Her weight had fluctuated, leaving her with stretch marks all over her body. Her tastes had changed, cutting and growing out and dying her hair a number of times. But her DNA had also changed, rapidly destabilizing before recombinating itself over the span of several weeks at a time, leaving her with a number of gnarled scars littering her body, most plentiful on her hands and feet. Venus rarely had good things to say about them; she loathed losing her muscle memory every time her fingers split into a number of fidgeting claws, or re-learning to walk whenever her legs turned into a plethora of stems before slapping back into painful facsimiles of humanoid feet. She hated the lack of control most of all, though, the feeling that no matter what she did, she would always be the thing they created her to be.

Mars found his thumb running along a seam in her lip, a leftover from a particularly bad day. He was not thinking of Venus' horrific shifting, or of her face unfurling like a rose, but instead of how wonderful her lips looked. It took him a moment to realize what he was doing. He pulled his hand away, an apology halfway formed in his mouth before he even recognized the look of sudden longing plastered across Venus' face. "Fuck," Mars cursed, "Sorry, I.."

Venus caught his hand as he pulled away. She looked over his hand, suddenly tense, but still so smooth. Her own hand, a mess of scar tissue, slowly pulled him back. Mars' soft office worker hands worked as a much better source of comfort than her own gnarled palms. "If you were my dad," Venus started, leaning into his palm. But she pulled his hand lower, his fingers sliding slowly over her jaw, then down her neck, and to her collarbone. Finally, his hand stopped just over her breast, his middle finger dipping just slightly into the small recess that formed between her clothed breasts. "Would you, um, you know.."

===You are entering the Rough Draft zone. The following has not been re-edited for quality.===

Mars' eyes widened. "Oh, god," He started, his hand pulling away from her to cover his mouth loosely with a tent of his fingers. "Venus, I'm not- I'm not a- you *know* that I'm not.."

For some odd reason, he couldn't finish his sentence. He kept finding himself lost in the question. "If you were my daughter," he mumbled slowly, looking over the expression of dawning horror on Venus' face, "you'd.. probably be really vulnerable around me, wouldn't you?" He tilts his head to the side, as if narrowing the aperture of the lens in which he was viewing her. "You wouldn't really know any better. It'd be really easy to hurt you."

Mars felt a tension in his chest. "I wouldn't, though," He said defensively, glancing away, "I mean, I'd try my best not to. Because I love you, and if I upset you, I wouldn't forgive myself, even if-"

"Even if what?" Venus asked after a moment of pause.

Mars' heart pounded. "Even if, you know, um."

*Even if you deserved it,* Mars thought and then regretted. What kind of monstrous thought was that? What could she possibly deserve? Mars' gaze lowered to her chest. Her chest was heavy, and formed a single large unit underneath her baggy Monster brand t-shirt. Her thighs gently peeked out from underneath the fabric, clad only by a tiny pair of short shorts. Her skin, as marred from mutation as it was, still held an allure to him. He wanted to run his hands over the many hills and valleys that littered her body. Maybe he can think of a few reasons.

Mars felt his cock throb in his jeans. *Good fucking god, I am a monster,* he thought. Why he felt so intensely about this line of questioning was beyond him. He looked Venus over again, and again. What if she was his daughter? His obnoxious gamer tomboy daughter who spent all day indoors showing him secrets in whatever new video game she got; Who was so glad to have a father interested in her desires and interests that she was totally blind to the way he was looking at her.

Slender fingers wove themselves into Venus' hair, scratching at her scalp gently for a moment. Venus raised an eyebrow, but quickly fell victim to the pleasure of having her head scratched for her. So easy to manipulate. He had known her for nearly the entire time since she emerged from her pod. He had somewhere around seven years to learn her every quirk. The kind of experiences they had together left little room for secrecy between them. He knew what made her tick. He really could manipulate her, if he held any desire to.

He looked over her face, tired, makeup streaked from her sobbing, but smiling softly in his grasp. So content with the basest affection.

How could he bear to hurt her?

"I might," Mars mumbled.

"Might what?"

"Hurt you. In that way that I shouldn't."

Venus' eyebrows raised. She made a noise of surprise. blehh blehh blelhhh blehhh re-do this bit maybe

[mars talks about how hes not sure if this is healthy but slips his hand up to venus' face and rubs her cheek with a thumb. for some unexplainable reason the visual of feeling this girl's face as she's in the wistful post-sob feelings makes him rock fucking hard. he's a little emo about it. he probably calls himself a little bit of a pedophile.]

[venus is obnoxious about it. she maybe forces him a little past his comfort zone. mars would have stopped her by now but he notices how the stony outcroppings on her skin have fallen away. he loves seeing her happy. his cock throbs and he realizes he has a lot of complicated feelings about seeing her happy.]

[mars chickens out. mars just goes, like, "...It's late." and goes to sleep on the couch. It's a little depressing. end of chapter oen???]

[they definitely have to fuck in chapter 2 though rightttt]