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Part 27 of Three Sentence Ficathon 2025
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Published:
2025-01-15
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909
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1/1
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Seasons Come Around

Summary:

Three Sentence Ficathon prompt - any, any after life, death; after death, life again

Ratchet's human. Humans only go on for so long. Deadlock promised he'd - he'd try, after. It's not easy.

Notes:

  • Inspired by TF Mecha AU by Keferon started it, but it's definitely a group effort by now I think. XD

...so this is a weird canon soup because I didn't actually finish the (not tf mecha au) fic this follows on from yet. human!Ratchet, basically married to TF!Deadlock, also dating human!Percy because poly party ambulance 4 life. Only humans don't live forever, and the tf mecha au tag made me cry (credit where it's due) so I had to write this out for The Feelings.

Work Text:

The house was quiet, after. Deadlock didn't do much, but he didn't think Ratch'd be surprised - knew him too well to be, by that point, even if he'd wanted Deadlock to keep- keep going.

Have a life, after.

The house was built for a human and a small enough 'Con, so it wasn't like he was stuck or anything. That'd been the big project, when Ratchet had wanted him to stay - when Deadlock had let himself believe this was real, that it wasn't going to slip out from under him. ...not the way things usually did, anyway. At least he-

At least they'd known it was coming.

Ellie came around to clean the place still. She was used to the weird layout and the entire house being one big open space, pretty much, the tough floor so Deadlock didn't scratch up anything that'd cause Ratchet problems and the kitchen set up so he could poke through things and make sure Ratchet ate-

He didn't feel like fuelling much. Just kept the solar panels going in a haze, because it was. Routine. That was about all that kept him going. He still had the drops of credits converted into local currency, just in case - it kept Ellie paid, and she was good people. Had been for years. She didn't talk about Ratchet being gone, after the first time she'd said she was sorry, and that he was a good man, and Deadlock had - had just. Collapsed in a heap in the middle of the floor, and she'd patted his foot until he'd managed to stop sobbing.

It took a while.

He stuck close by the house for. Long enough that the seasons started turning around again, upkeep going from picking out the gutters and checking for loose tiles to making sure Ellie could get up and down the path every week through the snow.

Percy visited, and Deadlock felt so fraggin' bad at first, making him come out when Percy wasn't much younger than Ratchet had- Had been, but Percy just patted his hand and been so fraggin' kind when Deadlock couldn't manage more than three words strung together.

"We all deal with grief in different ways," he said, and Deadlock very, very gently scooped him up and tucked him into the crook of his shoulder the way he had Ratchet, and if both of them cried for a while, well, Ratchet had loved Percy too. Percy was worth a bit of rust, if it came to that.

Deadlock might've got kind of clingy after that. If Percy minded, he never said, and Deadlock could drive him to the hospital for work just as easy as he could Ratchet.

...used to.

Used to drive.

Frag it.

*

Percy was at work when the ambulance came down the street.

Deadlock watched it without much real interest, Sailor Moon playing in the background for the six hundred thirty-fifth time and wondering if he had the spark to try making something again. Percy got cold, and Deadlock was pretty sure he could make a blanket in the colours he liked for the nights when he didn't just catnap with Deadlock, borrowing his frame's warmth. They'd been friends already, thanks to Ratchet, but losing him - nobody'd ever take Ratchet's place. Never. For either of them.

The ambulance stopped outside the house.

Deadlock blinked at it, confused enough that he didn't mute his audials in case its sirens started going.

And then it transformed.

Ratchet'd had sliding doors put in at the back of the house, tall enough that Deadlock could drive out or duck out easy if he wanted. Deadlock was outside so fast he couldn't remember how he did it, a blur of shaking the lock open and new spring leaves slapping him in the face, bolting around the side of the garage or maybe he'd hurdled it, it didn't matter-

The ambulance was tall. And - and their optics were blue, and they stood with their weight planted on their heels like Primus'd have to get past them to reach their patients, and red paint fractured over their transform like freckles that ran up their arms and he knew the tilt of their head and he knew their smile-

"I remember you," the ambulance said, looking down at Deadlock instead of up but that wondering look tore at his spark for how well he knew it, how often he'd seen it, and he could barely see anything else for how his optics were streaming and smearing and he couldn't smell laundry soap or coffee or human skin and sweat but he could smell cleanser and hospital and safe and home- "Didn't you used to be taller?"

"You told me human souls weren't real," Deadlock choked out, "you fragger," and the ambulance laughed like he'd surprised him and like he'd found him and like relief and sunshine and joy.

"Kid," Ratchet said, and swept him up in his arms, and it wasn't what Deadlock remembered but it was still right.

(Percy got a taxi home fast as he could when Deadlock commed him, crying over the phone so hard he could hardly get the words out. Percy had plenty to say about astrophysics and radiation and sparks and Vector Sigma afterwards, but first they all fell into each others' arms until they learned how they fit together again.

Maybe, just maybe, they'd get to keep him too. If Ratchet was still Deadlock's good luck charm.)

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