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English
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Part 10 of Three Sentence Ficathon 2025
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Published:
2025-01-11
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556
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1/1
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What's a little fuel crisis between friends

Summary:

Three Sentence Ficathon prompt - any, any, it's not my blood

Deadlock gets out of a fight. Ratchet worries. (Deadlock thinks it's sweet.)

Notes:

Very much inspired by Keferon's Mecha AU on the tumblrs, while stealing the Quintesson's motivations from G1 because I've not seen Earthspark. XD

Work Text:

"'Sfine," Deadlock slurred, and Ratchet briefly, sincerely wished they were on the same scale so that shaking the hosepipe at him was more threatening. "'S not mine."

"You think I can tell, you giant high-speed maniac?" he snapped, and Deadlock giggled at him like he'd just said something charming and Deadlock had turned into a giddy teenager instead of a car.

"Matters t'you." Ratchet huffed at him, head down and focussing on sluicing off the goddamn Quint gore and weird pink gunk so he could see what kind of damage his own personal moron was powering through, like a dumbass. "Y'care."

"Of course I care, I wouldn't be so goddamn angry if I didn't care!"

Deadlock grinned at him, optics as long as Ratchet's forearm gone squinty and ruby-red, the dark metal around them impossibly flexible. Impossibly expressive, just - impossible, like the rest of him. "Mmkay," he said, resting his cheek on his arm, sprawled on his stomach as Ratchet went at him with the hose. "Yell all y'want, then."

"So nice I have your permission," Ratchet snarked back, but the longer they went without finding a horrible tear or sparking gap in Deadlock's plating the more his heart gradually began to slow. "What's with you, anyway? ...are you drunk?"

"Nah. -honest," he said, faster when Ratchet squinted warningly up at him, though there was still a hint of that slurring lisp that was only getting stronger. "Jus' figured somethin' out." Ratchet made an enquiring noise, and Deadlock watched him over his own elbow for a moment until Ratchet nudged him with the toe of his boot. "Oh. Uh. Quints're - they're biomechanical, right? 'N the ones - the ones as landed first, th'smart ones. They said they made us. Fraggers."

"Fraggers," Ratchet agreed. It was pretty much call and response by now, and damn funny when Deadlock started using Earth swears in return, like some kind of trade-off to make Ratchet comfortable. It was weirdly endearing.

"Right. So I figure they gotta run on somethin' like energon." Deadlock grinned, and the hard, sharp line to his smile was obviously meant to be tough or something, but while Ratchet might be certifiably oblivious to certain emotional nuances - thanks, Pharma - he'd been around enough trauma and bravado to recognise when one was covering for the other.

"Okay. So - what, it's too strong, or-?"

Deadlock watched him, the bared fangs of his smile gradually easing off into something small and uncertain. Daft kid; hadn't he learned by now he couldn't scare Ratchet off if he didn't want to go? He'd seen worse than mechanical vampirism or whatever. "Yeah," he said, quieter. "It - 's not great. I don' like... bein' out of control."

Oh, kid. "Understandable," Ratchet allowed, and hupped up onto Deadlock's arm to rest his hand against Deadlock's cheek. Deep ruby-red light washed over him, the focussing rings behind the glass cycling in tight and surprised, Deadlock's face gone vulnerable just for a moment even as he held obligingly still to let Ratchet fuss. "Don't worry, kid. Between your stores and my equipment, we'll figure out something to synthesise. It's gonna be fine."

"Y'know, Ratch?" Deadlock murmured; his voice rumbled under Ratchet's boots, down through his bones. His face was cool and smooth and mobile under Ratchet's palm, the calluses on his fingers. "I might just believe y'."

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