FicWad

KITT had no particular love of parking lots. He found them depressing. Before he knew how unique he was, he had tried to strike up a conversation in one once, and was highly depressed to find that none of the cars would speak to them. At first he thought it had been snobbishness, but when he found out that none of them were sentient, parking lots became downright eerie. He had tried to explain the feeling to Michael once. "Imagine," he had told the man, "sitting in a lot full of men and women, all of whom are sitting with their mouths half-open, unable to speak, completely brain-dead, waiting for someone to come and deal with them. Wouldn't you find that depressing?"

Michael had sympathized, but had told KITT he was just going to have to get used to it. KITT sighed. He noted the smooth, sweeping lines and sweet exhaust note of a red Ferrari that passed him, but knowing that she had no mind - well, it was positively perverse . KITT deleted those depressing thoughts from his RAM, pulled up a book from his database, and settled down to read. Michael had been invited to a party at the Army base by the grateful higher-ups, and was no doubt going to be spending a good amount of time there. KITT would not be surprised to find his passenger seat occupied by a female of the species later, for Michael to take back home and engage in some of that non-reproductive reproductive activity with.

A note sounded in the back of KITT's mind before he had exhausted his onboard stock of reading material; Michael's com-link had moved out of the building and was heading in his direction. KITT noted the position of his book in RAM and put it back into disk storage. Michael came towards him, weaving as if to avoid road hazards that did not exist. As he came closer, the airborne particulate analyzer that served as KITT's sense of smell noted ethanol in Michael's exhalations. KITT came to the reasonable conclusion that his partner was inebriated.

Michael fumbled at the door, finally getting it open, and flopped into the driver's seat. "Sorry I couldn't invite you in, KITT! But..." he laughed, "I don't think it would have worked out well. You can't reach the punch bowl, for one!" He laughed more, as if it had been a far better joke than it was.

"It's just as well that I can't, Michael," KITT replied tartly, "as it looks like I'll be responsible for driving you home.'

Michael shook his head. "Aw - I've only had a drink or two. Or three. Or maybe," he paused, "fifteen."

KITT took the tartness out of his voice. Michael had little enough chance to just enjoy himself, away from FLAG business, after all. "Just close the door, Michael - please?"

Michael has some trouble closing the door. "Dija redesign your door, KITT? I think you... changed... where the handle is, KITT." The door finally swung shut. "Just to mess with me. I would... get mad... if you didn't have such a lovely voice."

KITT was quite startled. "I have a lovely voice?" Certainly, KITT had always thought so. But it was intriguing to hear that Michael thought so. The man had never expressed interest in male voices before.

Michael leaned back and sighed, then shuffled a bit, flopping on his side, as if attempting to fit his lanky frame comfortably into the bolstered bucket seat. KITT gave that endeavor a 23 percent chance of success. "Yeah. Speak to me, KITT," he mumbled.

"About what, Michael?" KITT asked, still bemused.

"Anything."

KITT shunted dormant processing power over to address this request. Michael typically only asked for very specific information from KITT. Rarely did he leave his requests so open-ended, and KITT was unsure what the expectation was. He therefore felt an urge to make his input interesting. Memorable. "Well... you don't seem to be in the mood for jokes." Not that those had ever worked well with Michael. "Would you like a story?"

Michael mumbled, "Yes, anything..." He closed his eyes, sighed, and moved a little more, as if still uncomfortable.

"Well, erm... oh dear, what story is appropriate for this situation..." KITT furiously searched his databanks. In the popular culture he had investigated, he had noted that the stories that were most often exchanged between those who were emotionally close were confidences - personal stories that revealed a vulnerability of some kind. That seemed appropriate, and KITT certainly had such a tale. "Perhaps the story of the first time I was ever driven?" No objection came from the driver's seat. KITT refreshed the memory, scanning it. "Bonnie drove me. I had never had anybody in me before. I know it's what I'm designed for, but it was... interesting. A turning point, of sorts." KITT pored over the memory, the inevitable comparison coming to his mind. "She drives very differently from you, Michael. She has a light touch, a very gentle touch." KITT realized the inadvertent implication of his words, and hastily added, "Not that I don't like the way you drive! She drives differently, not better." KITT went back to the main thrust of the tale. "It was just a little run around the test track at the headquarters. You know it." They had driven it many times; it was a standard benchmark, run whenever KITT was upgraded. "We did the test, and she was so... encouraging. 'You're doing so well, KITT,' she said. We did one dry run, and then the test. Men with stopwatches were there, monitoring my performance. It's nothing now, no, but at the time - it was the first time I had ever done that!" KITT scanned Michael. His eyes were closed, but tension in his facial muscles indicated that he was paying attention. KITT moved on to the bit that he had not told anyone, not even Bonnie. "I was a little - well, truth be told, Michael, I was a little nervous."

Michael laughed lazily, his eyes still closed. KITT wondered if he were being made fun of. Well, it would hardly be the first time, and he might as well finish. "But she took me through. I exceeded expectations, they told me." KITT paused, analyzing the numbers on that run. "It is odd, though - I've run that test with you many times since then, and you always break that time. You're a much wilder driver. You have a completely different style. I have to admit that I enjoy your touch. It's just not the same without you in the driver's seat."

In a sleepy mumble, Michael muttered, "I like it, too, KITT. It's... in... tense." It was not that KITT did not know this already. Hardly! The man whooped and hollered like a young proto-human on a rollercoaster whenever they went out. But it was rather... /pleasing/, KITT decided, to hear it stated outright. "And you have a shexy voice," Michael continued. "Tell me... tell me that you like me in you." For no reason that KITT could fathom, Michael giggled.

"Well - that's certainly true, Michael. I enjoy having you inside of me." KITT's voice modulators kicked in to simulate aurally the bafflement he felt. Hadn't he just said that?

With another giggle, and a sleepy groan as he rubbed against the seat, shifting, Michael said, "Oh... I like to hear that."

KITT was becoming a little worried at the increasingly obvious physical signs of inebriation that Michael was evidencing. Judgment was the first thing that alcohol consumption affected, and Michael had precious little of that commodity to start with. "I should get you home. You're rather inebriated. My body scanner tells me that your BAC is 0.083."

"Mmm.. yes, take me hoooome..." Michael groaned, rubbing against the seat as he shifted again.

"Well - I certainly will. Don't try to drive. I'll recline the seat. Sleep a little." KITT suited action to word. The seat would be slightly more amenable to a good nap in that position, he decided.

"Mmmm. Yes, recl... recl... lie the seat down." Michael stretched out with a sigh. KITT started the car, and Michael's smile widened as the V-8's rumble shook the car back and forth. He kissed the seat, saying, "Lovely..."

KITT sighed at this alcohol-induced irrationality. "Yes, it's genuine cowhide, so don't lick it, Michael. That's not sanitary."

"You're sexy when you're fussy." Michael kissed the seat again, moving on it as if in a trance. KITT had no idea how to make the seat more comfortable than it was, so he would just have to let the man deal with it. However, the way that Michael was shifting caused a stray bit to suggest to KITT that something other than discomfort was involved in the motions, and he could not deny the rationality of the new explanation.

"The books never said anything about this," KITT muttered to himself. Then again, no maker of erotic works had found reason to consider a sentient robotic automobile. KITT put in an extra kick of speed as they flew down the freeway. Michael seemed to rather enjoy the speed, increasing the actions that KITT could no longer think were just tossing to find a more comfortable seating position.

After a few minutes, Michael sighed a long-drawn-out-sigh and snored slightly. KITT pondered possibilities; his seats were not made for sleeping, after all, and although he could eject Michael, he would have to do some interesting driving indeed to eject him onto a comfortable sleeping surface. Fortunately, data ports were still up and running at the mansion; Bonnie was working late. KITT patched into one of them. "Bonnie - perhaps you could come retrieve Sleeping Beauty from my driver's seat? He will never forgive me the crick in his neck if he stays there all night."

"Oh, what's he done this time..." Bonnie did not wait for a reply, to KITT's relief. She put down her work with an exaggerated sigh and ran out to the car.

Michael was still awake, or Bonnie would not have been able to pull him out; as it was, it took quite a bit of yanking and grumbling and jammed knuckles and knees on the part of both humans. Michael finally emerged from the car, half-draped around Bonnie. "'Night, sleep tight..." he muttered, leaning heavily on FLAG's long-suffering electronics expert.

"I don't sleep," KITT said - but he said it very, very quietly, watching Bonnie and Michael make their way towards the door. At that moment, he was very grateful that he did not sleep. He had a number of things to process, and even a sleepless night at full processing power might not suffice.


One of the good things about working for FLAG, Bonnie reflected, was the constant intellectual challenge. The only drawback to that was the nature of the intellectual challenge - namely, trying to keep one step ahead of Michael Knight. He had a way of taking out the most technologically advanced, intelligent robot that Bonnie had ever been lucky enough to get her hands on, and bringing it back in any number of states of disrepair. Bonnie had, despite her best intentions, started to think of KITT as a /he/, not an /it/, and it was becoming as painful to see KITT brought back damaged as it would be to have your child come back from school with a bloody nose and broken bones.

"How does it look down there?" KITT asked.

Bonnie stared up at the exhaust system. "I only did a patch job on it before - I had a new one made. Aramid-wrapped titanium. Maybe it will survive better," she sighed, starting on the painful process of breaking the exhaust bolts loose. She wondered what Michael would come up with to destroy the new exhaust. He would, she knew; it was only a matter of time.

KITT spun his wheels briefly. Bonnie had gotten used to the 'fidgeting' he did when up on stands, and ignored it. "You're very good to me, Bonnie," he said.

"Well, you're the most advanced mechanism I have ever been involved in creating. You're good, KITT." She wiggled a bolt loose and stuck it in her mouth.

"Bobbi, can computers love?" KITT asked.

Bonnie tugged on the handle of the socket wrench, trying to dislodge another bolt. She spoke through teeth clenched to keep the bolt in her mouth. "I don't know. Humans don't even have a good grasp on what love is." KITT's rambling while he was being worked on was as familiar to her now as his fidgeting.

"That's ridiculous!" KITT said, sounding almost offended. "It's one of the most important emotions, and you're telling me it's not even well-defined?" His speakers hissed with a sigh. "Well, I just hope someone is working on /that/."

A smile tugged at Bonnie's mouth. "People have been working on it for centuries, KITT." With another tug, the next bolt came loose. She wiggled it free and stuck it in her mouth next to the first.

"Hmph. Inebriated poets. Half of what they say makes no sense, and the other half is just plain not true."

"Well, they're the best we have." The next bolt came free too easily. She chided herself for not torquing it properly the last time.

"Does FLAG have anybody working on this?" KITT asked.

"Just you, KITT."

"Oh, /really/. Well. I will have to get started." He paused. "Would you say I'm in love with Michael?"

Bonnie almost swallowed the bolts that were in her mouth. She turned her head and spat them out onto the ground. "I... well, I don't know, KITT. You're the only one who can answer that."

KITT sounded aggravated, as he tended to when he came up against human imprecision. "How am I supposed to know without you people having a suitable definition?" Another sigh hissed through his speakers. "Well, how do you define it?"

It was a startlingly good question, and Bonnie pondered it for a minute as she finished removing KITT's exhaust. He asked her testily if she had heard the question, and she told him she was thinking about it. She scuttled out from under him on the gurney, put the old exhaust in a corner, and faced KITT, crossing her arms. "Hm. I suppose... it's an affection, of sorts, but one that's formed because the people in question are... complementary. It's appreciating differences, and the affection staying in place even though the other person might annoy and frustrate you." It wasn't terribly satisfying to her own ears, but it was the best she could manage on the spot.

KITT's forward scanner flashed as he processed this. Finally, he replied, "In that case, I believe I am in love with Michael. Well, as far as the human definition goes. And it is hardly my fault that the definition is so ambiguous."

"That's nice, KITT." Bonnie pulled the new midpipe out from under its wrap. "So what does that mean?"

"That's another ambiguity. I was hoping you could assist me with that."

Bonnie hefted the midpipe in her hands. A somewhat evil thought occurred to her. "Have you told Michael?"

"That is another item I was hoping to get your assistance with. If I can't get advice on human interactions from a human, where can I get it?" KITT sounded aggravated again.

Bonnie slid back underneath KITT. "Humans are bad at human interaction."

"That is a severe design flaw."

Bonnie smiled as she slid the midpipe into place, holding it steady with her legs as she slid the bolts in. "I know. We're working on it."


It had been two days since Michael had seen KITT. Bonnie had muttered something about upgrades and taken KITT into her laboratory. That suited Michael just fine. He did not even stop by to see how the upgrades were going, chat with KITT, and try to flirt with Bonnie, as he normally would. He borrowed a normal car from FLAG to take down to the beach. A nonsentient car, a car that didn't talk back at him and ask what possible pleasure could be derived from lying around on sand that had a way of getting into body crevices, a car that did not note the current UV conditions and advise him to wear sunscreen, a car that did not scoff at his choice of swimsuit, a car that did not analyze the lyrics of his songs of choice using algorithms pulled from the three current top schools of psychology.

A car that left him alone with his thoughts, which was not a terribly good idea, all things considered.

The morning after the party at the Army base, he had woken with a minor hangover and a faint sense of dread. The latter had lasted about half a minute, and then the memories of the night before had come back in full Technicolor clarity. The party. Drinking perhaps a bit much than he should have. Telling that woman in the dress uniform with a chestful of service ribbons that she had a nice ass, and getting slapped quite hard. Swapping obscene stories with a gaggle of corporals. And... oh yes... engaging in frottage with a robotic car, the evidence of which had been getting rather itchy.

A shower and a change of clothing had taken care of the latter, but for a day and a half, the thoughts had nagged at him. He cursed at himself internally. There he was, lying on a sunny beach full of beautiful women in skimpy bathing suits, and all he could think about was his damn robotic car. He closed his eyes, settled back on his towel, and started to split hairs as he basked.

Technically, he wondered, was it sex? Not really. He had never considered frottage to be scoring. Still, though, it was a sexual activity, of sorts. He had even used the word 'sexy.' He had told KITT that his voice was 'sexy.' Which was utterly nuts. There was something distressingly... gay about that whole line of thought. Another thought flitted into his mind. There was no physical reason for KITT to be gendered as a male, after all. If Michael asked him to speak with a woman's voice, would it be better? At least one aspect of the situation†s discomfort would be taken care of.

No. The idea was ludicrous. KITT with a woman's voice? It wouldn't work. No, his personality was definitely male, and it was that personality that had... yes. So, Michael wondered, shifting in the sun - I love my car? I had some kind of sex with - my car. He snorted. It was all nuts; absolutely, utterly, completely psycho. Every single aspect of it.

An idea came, as if out of the blue sky above. A very good idea. A solution. Maybe, he thought, if I ignore it, it will go away. Ignore it and pretend it never happened. The simplicity of the solution was utterly delightful. He smiled as he shifted and basked. He had gotten out of that one surprisingly easily!

He opened his eyes and smiled at a pretty blonde who was eyeing him.


He settled this solution firmly in mind when Devon woke him the next morning with a mission. He held onto it tightly as he showered and dressed. He clung to it like a lifeline as he went to the garage and greeted KITT tersely. His grip on it slipped as he slid inside of KITT. The solution danced away from his grasp as he touched the steering wheel. He had never really noticed before the way the memory foam of KITT's seat molded to fit his buttocks. He shifted uncomfortably, resisting the feel of being so comfortable, so /enveloped/.

He kept his mouth clamped shut as they pulled out of the garage. He stomped on the accelerator, leaving two particularly long black streaks as they screeched out of the garage and out towards the freeway.

"How are you doing this morning, Michael?" KITT asked.

What the hell did KITT mean by that? "I'm... I'm /fine/, KITT, just fine!" he snapped. "Why do you always ask how I'm doing? You have a medical scanner! You can see how I'm doing!"

"I meant the question as a pleasantry, Michael." KITT sounded slightly taken aback.

Slightly was not enough for Michael. How dare that robot ask how he was doing? "Well, stop being pleasant! You're a car! Cars aren't supposed to be pleasant! Just go!"

KITT's voice turned slightly tart. "Yes. May I ask where we are going, or is that not something a car is supposed to do?"

Michael took a deep breath. The ignore-it solution was not working. "Sorry, sorry. We're going to Sacramento."

"In that case, I'm sorry, too." The wheel moved in Michael's hands as KITT changed lanes.

The sense of the car in control was eerie. "I'll drive."

"Whatever you say." The steering wheel went limp, and Michael grasped it firmly.

After a pause, KITT spoke with unusual softness. "Michael - you are unusually quiet and pensive today. Does this have anything to do with the occurrence of two nights ago?"

The ignore-it solution fluttered away in the wind like an unsecured gas receipt. Michael sighed noisily. "Look... KITT, it was an accident. I was drunk. I'm sorry, OK?"

"Was it not enjoyable for you?" KITT asked solicitously. "I apologize if not, and next time, would be happy to alter any part of the experience that was not..."

Michael interrupted. "I don't want to talk about it!"

"All right."

Miles of silence allowed the thoughts that Michael had happily ignored the day before to crowd in on him. He chewed on them with distaste. Yes, god help him, he was going to have to actually /talk about this/. "Look - I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done... what I did." He flushed. He didn't look in the rearview to see if he was flaming bright red. Most likely, he was.

"Why not?"

"It's not cricket, all right! It's not right for me to... take advantage of... you... like that." Yes, that was part of this miasma of embarrassment, wasn't it? That he had gone for someone who couldn't say no.

KITT did not seem to agree with this assessment, however. "Michael, if I didn't want your attention, you know I could just eject you."

Michael squirmed in the too-comfortable seat. "Are you telling me you enjoyed that?"

KITT's voice turned uncertain. "Well - I thought you were enjoying it yourself, so I did. However, if you didn't, it would take away any enjoyment I had in it."

"It was..." Michael's brain politely told him that it was dealing with too many implications, and shut down. "Look, this is very strange, KITT. I need to adapt to it. I don't even know what's going on."

"Do you love me, Michael?" The question was tentative.

If anything could have made the conversation less tenable, it was the L-word. Michael did not deal with it easily from beautiful women, let alone from his damn car! "Look, I can't answer that question!" He shook his head and waved one hand. "This is nuts. My car is asking me if I love it."

"I thought we were partners, Michael."

"We are," Michael sighed.

"So - your partner is asking you if you love him."

"Him." Michael shook his head again. "Look, KITT, I'm not gay, which makes this all stranger."

"I was not implying that you were, Michael. I am no expert on human sexuality, but I am aware that spectra of bisexuality exist. I don't even know if your action technically would constitute sex between two men. I believe that it would be, legally, sex with a machine - as in with a vibrator. The statues are not clear. The closest I can find is a 1978 case, Tim vs..."

"I don't want to hear it, KITT. Not the legalities," Michael interrupted. Damn KITT's pedantic nature to hell and back.

"Right. In any case, Michael, if the thought of your sexuality being of a gay orientation bothers you, it is not something about which you need to worry."

"Well, I'm worrying anyway," Michael replied.

After a pause that was all too pregnant, KITT asked, "Have I caused you distress, Michael?"

That, at least, Michael could answer fully and honestly. "No. No, KITT. I caused myself distress."

"Can I help in any way?" KITT asked solicitously.

"Just... be you." Shithell, they were friends, buddies. They had been for years. If buddies couldn't handle the occasional drunken mistake, they weren't buddies, were they? And he and KITT were buddies. Teammates. Friends.

"I certainly do not have many alternatives."

Good old KITT. Always so literal. "No. No, indeed." Michael chuckled and allowed himself to relax slightly into the form-fitting seat, feeling like a key slotting into a lock. They could deal with whatever it might open some other time.