Disclaimer: I do not own these characters and I make no money off of this story.

Notes: nice and fluffy, brotherly love

Rock pulled the blankets tighter around his shivering form. A small sob escaped his choked throat and his body continued to tremble. With his knees were drawn up to his chin, he looked every bit the small boy he'd been designed as.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to make you mad."

Another sob escaped. It was painful trying to keep it inside. All he wanted to do was let it out—cry as loud as the storm outside, but if he did, he knew he'd end up waking the good doctor and Roll.

"Just go to sleep, Rock," he told himself as he curled up on his side, clutching his pillow to him tightly. "Stop being such a baby."

Rock continued to silently cry in the lonely darkness of his room.


Thunder crashed loudly overhead and the rain pelted down almost painfully.

A figure dressed in an outfit of grey and red with a bright yellow scarf wrapped around the neck for comfort, sat most unwisely amongst the many branches of a great oak tree, a silver whistle clutched in one hand. It hadn't been raining when he'd gone up there. He'd gone up there to hide. Hiding was something he was always doing—hiding and running.

Blues hit his fist against the branch, but it lacked conviction.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," he muttered, staring out into the darkness through the shaded gaze of his visor.

He'd lost his cool again.

"Stupid," he said again, as he got to his feet. "He was only trying to help."

But he'd been so afraid, so afraid of seeing Rock get hurt. Blues grimaced in pain at the ugly gash that refused to stop bleeding the oily life-fluid inside of him.

Blues peered in through the window and saw Rock's sobbing body. He felt a strange sort of ache in his robotic chest.

"Stupid conscience," he muttered. "Robots shouldn't have consciences…"

"Better go check on the kid," Blues decided wearily. "He hates thunderstorms."

"Niisan?" Rock asked in a tired voice of surprise, as he was woken by the gentle hand of his brother.

Blues raised a finger to his lips, indicating a want of silence.

"Niisan, you're hurt!" Rock cried in a hushed voice, tainted heavily by worry.

"I'm fine," Blues assured him, despite the realization of the severity of his wound.

Rock frowned. "You should have the doctor take a look at you. He can fix you up."

Blues shook his head. "I will be fine. I just came to check on you, to make sure you're all right."

If robots could cry, Rock certainly would have. He threw himself at his brother, small metal arms wrapping around Blues' waist. Blues looked down in surprise through his dark visor before sitting down on the bed.

"This is all my fault," Rock said in a muffled voice. "I-I was in the way again."

"Well, yes, you were," Blues said slowly. "But I shouldn't have been so harsh to you about it. You're still in your learning stages and you're a very accomplished fighter for your age."

"So, you're not mad?" Rock sniffed.

Blues shook his head. "I just have a short fuse, sometimes…."

"You have a bomb inside of you?" Rock asked confused and a bit alarmed.

Blues chuckled warmly, mussing up the black hair of his little brother.

"Don't ever change," he said softly.

Rock yelped as a large crackle of lightening streamed down, striking a nearby tree, the thunder heavy and brash, sounding overhead. He buried his face in Blues' warmth, trying to hide from the storm outside.

Blues held his flute to his lips and began to play a soft, lilting tune to soothe his brother.

"Nothing to be afraid of. I'm here to watch over you and protect you," he said calmly, pausing for a moment in his piece.

"Even if you get hurt?" Rock asked in a small voice, looking up with sad blue eyes.

Humanoid robots… Blues hated the way they'd been created to be so human, and yet, were treated as nothing more than machines. He knew that he and Rock were different from most robots—they had consciences and were more human than all other robots created—but he hated that they were still nothing more than metal and wires and man's technological design and command. It made him bitter to the world and isolated him from those around him, both metal and flesh. But for a moment, Blues found something more important than the bitter war that raged outside between humans and robots, something that required his protection, his time and his effort.

"Even if I get hurt, I'll still protect you, because I'm your big brother and you need someone looking out for you, knowing how easily you get into trouble," he smiled teasingly.

Rock gave him a small smile before diving for shelter again as the thunder crashed once again through the night. Blues closed his eyes, leaning back against the headboard, ignoring his wound, ignoring the pain and the bitterness inside of him, focusing only on the little boy that trembled out of innocent fear, a boy that needed him.

"Ototo," he thought gently. "I will watch over you. In truth, I always have…"