Foreword:
I know what you're thinking... Actually, that's a lie. I haven't the foggiest idea what you're thinking, but you clicked on the story, so I figure if you're reading this, I win regardless. XP
It'd be hard for me to say exactly what inspired this fic. Maybe it's just that TGaK has been so depressing to work on lately that I have to do happy little side projects to keep myself going. ^^' One day I got to thinking about how Clank sometimes goes into a sort of parent-mode with Ratchet, and... that somehow evolved into this crazy little oneshot. XP
Be ye warned: this is sort of a slice-of-life fic, but that doesn't mean it can't have spoilers. Heck, the opening quote is one of the last lines in ACiT, so if you haven't played that game yet then shoo! D:
"Discovering my family has made me realize that... I cannot leave Ratchet. Not until he finds his own."
—Clank (A Crack in Time)
« ... »
"Clank, I can't find my left hoverboot!" Ratchet yelled from across the apartment.
Clank heaved an exasperated sigh. Only a month since the end of the biggest and longest escapade of their hero careers, and already it was back to life as usual for him and Ratchet. He wondered how the irresponsible Lombax had managed for two years without him.
He began fishing through the tangled cords of Ratchet's video game system and automatically muttered, "Where did you have it last?"
"If I knew that I wouldn't be looking for it," Ratchet retorted, breezing into the room and heading for the closet. His footsteps alternated between the soft pat of his bare foot and the loud clatter of his booted one.
Clank lifted up a cushion on the couch and scanned the area underneath thoroughly before moving on to the next one. "You know, Ratchet, most people lose their left sock, not half of an irreplaceable family heirloom."
Honestly, he thought to himself, am I your friend or your mother? "Have you checked the closet?"
"Oh, good idea!" Ratchet exclaimed, and he leapt across the room to grab the handle on the closet door.
He stopped just short of opening it, however, freezing in place like he'd just remembered something.
"On second thought," he muttered uncertainly, turning around and walking off, "I don't think there's any way it could be in there."
Clank poked his head out from behind the couch, glaring suspiciously. "Are you sure you are not simply afraid to open the door? Just how many weeks of dirty laundry is your poor boot buried under in there?"
"I told you, it's not in there," Ratchet said, sincerely adding, "Thanks for helping me look for it, though."
"I am not looking for your hoverboot," Clank corrected, getting down on his hands and knees and peeking under the couch. "I am trying to find the remote control."
"The remote?" Ratchet turned and gave the little robot a funny look. "What's a stuffy intellectual like you wanna watch holo-vision for?"
Clank stood up and frowned at Ratchet with his hands braced on his sides. "I enjoy watching the Science Channel," he stated matter-of-factly. "You know that!"
"Sure I do." Ratchet gave him a wry smile and turned around, muttering as he shoved pieces of furniture aside, "Why do you think the remote disappeared?"
Clank's mouth fell open in surprise. "Ratchet, are you suggesting that you purposely concealed the remote control to prevent me from viewing the Science Channel?"
"Are you kidding?" Ratchet countered. "I would 'purposely conceal' the whole HV to keep you from watching the Science Channel."
Clank shot his friend a frustrated glare, which went completely ignored as Ratchet continued to chuck things over his shoulder in the frantic search for his missing hoverboot.
"Oh, I give up," he exclaimed, throwing up his hands. "I'll just take a taxi."
He kicked off his right boot and walked barefoot toward the door.
"You are leaving now?" Clank asked, a bit surprised that Ratchet didn't invite him to come along. As much as they bickered, they rarely went anywhere without each other. It had become something of an unspoken understanding between them, especially in the past few weeks.
Ratchet turned to him and said, "Yeah. I'm gonna go grab some pie. I figured you wouldn't wanna come."
Pie? Clank understood the reference, but he couldn't tell whether Ratchet was serious or just being facetious.
It was last week. They had stopped at a little cafe and Ratchet had ordered banana cream pie with whipped cream on top...
"I cannot believe you ordered that," Clank muttered in disgust, looking up from his book.
Mouth ringed with whipped topping, Ratchet gave him a confused look. "What's wrong with it?"
"Ratchet, that dessert is unhealthy enough as it is. Why would you ask them to top it with whipped cream?"
"I love whipped cream," Ratchet mumbled with his mouth full.
"But it is cream on top of cream. Sugar on top of more sugar. It is not good for you."
"It's fine, Clank," Ratchet said, spooning up another bite. "No one ever died from eating a slice of pie."
Clank set his book down on the table and crossed his arms to show his disapproval. "Very well," he said, "but do not blame me if you get fat."
Going out just for a slice of pie? Clank couldn't imagine Ratchet was doing it for any reason other than to annoy him.
Ratchet waved goodbye on his way out the door, cheerfully calling, "Later, Pal! Good luck finding the remote!"
The door closed, then opened again a second later and Ratchet peeked his smug face in just long enough to add, "Try the closet."
He disappeared from sight and Clank stared after him, head tilted thoughtfully and one eye squinted in confusion.
To think he turned down being Senior Caretaker of the Great Clock for this.
With an almost paternal sigh, Clank shook his head and walked over to the closet. He opened it, half expecting to have to crawl out from under an avalanche of misplaced junk a second later, but to his surprise the space inside was actually quite tidy. There was no mess—no pile of gadgets and clothes stuffed inside as though under the proverbial rug—just a cardboard box with a piece of paper on top... and the remote.
Clank's eyes widened, and he stepped forward as his mouth eased open. He picked up the piece of paper and began to read a short note written in Ratchet's handwriting:
"Hey there, Pal. I don't know how to say this, but I do know I could never say it out loud, so I figured I'd just write it down. You like reading, right?"
Clank paused to chuckle, then continued. In his mind, Ratchet's voice articulated every word as if he were standing right there.
"The two years when you were missing were... rough for me... And I know I don't always show it very well, but I'm really, REALLY glad you're back. I realized during the time I didn't have you that you're a lot more than just a friend to me. You're like my brother, and my father, and even my mother, as weird as that sounds. You're my whole family... and I appreciate you."
Clank blinked a few times, and smiled softly. He already knew how much his friend cared for him. He knew, because Ratchet's actions had always spoken louder than his words. But still... He never would've thought he had it in him to express it like this. It must have taken more courage for Ratchet to write this pitifully short letter than it had for him to face an army of bloodthirsty aliens, alone and armed with nothing but a wrench.
He stared at the letter long enough to read it three or four times before he remembered that it wasn't the only thing his friend had left for him in this closet. Excited and curious, he set the paper down on the floor and turned to the cardboard box. Pulling open the side flaps, he peered eagerly down into it, and blinked in surprise when he saw what was inside.
It was a pie.
A banana cream pie with whipped cream on top.
Clank made a strange face and shook his head, smiling in spite of himself. Leave it to Ratchet to offer up such a kind, heartfelt sentiment and follow it up with a practical joke.
He reached down and picked up the letter once more, reading it over just to make sure he hadn't imagined what it said. It was just as simple and beautiful the fifth time as it had been the first, and he found himself noticing certain fragments with special interest.
I'm really, REALLY glad you're back... You're like my brother... I appreciate you.
Clank smiled once more, folding the letter carefully along the creases that were already there. He opened his chest compartment and put the paper inside. He didn't plan on removing it anytime soon.
Then he turned with a more critical expression to the box with the pie in it. Arms folded, he muttered, "Now then, what shall I do with you?"
Suddenly an odd inspiration dawned on him, and a sinister grin slowly crept across his face. He let loose his signature chuckle and tapped his fingers together. "Ratchet, you will live to regret calling me your 'brother.'"
« « « « « ж » » » » »
Ratchet felt nervous on his way home, which made him feel awkward as well. Cream on top of cream... or something like that. It was too late to think clearly—but not too late to think excessively.
He yawned and stretched his arms out, staring up at the night sky. It was strange. He wasn't the type to get nervous. Then again, he wasn't the type to leave a sappy note for his friend to find and then flee the place as though it were a crime scene. What was getting into him lately? He'd thought that after he found Clank things would go back to the way they were before he disappeared—and in truth they pretty much had—but when Ratchet thought about how close he'd come to losing him forever... he had to acknowledge that things had changed, whether it seemed like it or not.
The weird part, though, was that Clank was the same now as he was before. Ratchet was the one who had changed. Hopefully for the better, but one thing was for sure: two years ago he would never have even considered doing what he had done two hours ago... Although the butterflies in his stomach were almost making him wish he hadn't.
There's nothing to worry about, he reminded himself. This is Clank we're talking about. It's not like he's gonna get mad or tease you about it.
He walked up to the apartment, stopped, took a deep breath, and opened the door to step inside.
"I'm back," he called.
Predictably, Clank was sitting on the sofa reading. He spared a glance up at Ratchet, then turned his attention back to his book and said, "You were gone an awfully long time for buying a dessert."
Ratchet blinked in surprise. That was... not the greeting he was expecting. "What? Do I have a curfew now?"
"Do you need one?" Clank retorted.
Ratchet hesitated for a moment. What was he playing at? Was it possible that he hadn't found the note? Was he still angry about earlier?
"So..." Ratchet muttered, "Did ya... find the remote?"
"Yes, I did," Clank replied matter-of-factly, adding nothing else.
Another awkward pause. Then, "Did ya... find anything else?"
Clank looked up from his book and condescendingly asked, "Like your left hoverboot?"
"Uh... yeah."
Clank's eyes glinted, and he muttered in a suggestive voice, "Maybe."
"Ha-ha," Ratchet drawled sarcastically. "Ya know, Clank, you're pretty funny for a stuffy intellectual."
"I have learned from the best," the robot stated with sincerity.
Ratchet smirked and headed for the bedroom. He was still confused, but he was too tired to play this game with Clank right now. He'd just have to ask him about it directly, tomorrow when he was more alert.
"Well... g'night, Pal," he muttered. "I'll see ya in the morning."
"Sweet dreams, Ratchet," Clank said.
Seconds later, when Ratchet had reached his bed and presumably escaped Clank completely, he heard him shout from the living room, "Do not forget to brush your teeth!"
Ratchet froze in dumbfounded surprise, with one leg already slipped between the mattress and the blanket. He couldn't contain an affectionate chuckle as he shook his head and started toward the bathroom.
To think he used to wonder what it would be like to have parents.
« ... »
Ratchet woke up to a cold, wet sensation all over his face. When he opened his mouth he thought he tasted something... sweet? He sat up drowsily and wiped his eyes, only to find himself with a handful of fluffy white stuff. His eyes flew open, and a gasp caught in his throat.
Is this... whipped cream?
He curiously stuck a finger in his mouth, and his ears flopped behind his head. There could be no mistake. He'd know that taste anywhere.
"Why that little...!" he grumbled while furiously wiping the mask of whipped topping from his face.
He flung the blanket aside and jumped out of bed fuming, but he stopped in his tracks when something on the nightstand caught his eye.
The first thing he saw was his missing hoverboot, sitting there polished and ready for use beside its counterpart. He gasped faintly and rushed forward, picking up the left boot and looking it over as though he doubted it could be real. He smiled and laughed, then glanced to the right at the second thing he saw.
On the nightstand beside the boots was a banana cream pie—the one he'd left for Clank, no doubt—only all the whipped cream had been scraped off the top. In its place there was a folded piece of paper resting tent-style right in the middle of the pie's yellow filling. Ratchet raised an eyebrow and reached forward to grab it, then opened it to read the note inside.
It said, simply and succinctly, "I appreciate you too."
Ratchet's heart leapt in his chest, and a delighted grin climbed steadily up his cream-soaked cheeks. Once again, he'd underestimated his best friend. Maybe those two years apart had changed both of them, after all.
Ratchet set his eyes on the stripped pie, thinking to himself that there was still plenty of cream inside it to make a mess with.
He let his affectionate smile morph slowly into a malicious one, and he lifted the pie from the nightstand with one hand.
"Oh, Clank," he called out as he headed for the living room, pie at the ready. "I've got a present for you."
« ... »
A man of many companions may come to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother.
— Proverbs 18:24
Author's Notes:
Wow. I can't believe I wrote that. O.O Guess now I know how Ratchet felt after writing his letter. ^-^
- Despite its inspiration being totally random, this fic actually ended up being quite the exercise in foreshadowing. o_0 In these five short pages, I counted eight solid instances of foreshadowing, with two or three more that I was on the fence about. How's that for a writing exercise? XD
- Out of respect and strong personal conviction, I feel I need to note something about the verse I used at the end. It's interpretable, I suppose, but I always felt like it was talking about Jesus, and if that's the case I don't want to make it about something else. Because Jesus is the only friend you can count on no matter what, and that's what this verse seems to be saying to me. Even so, it was just so perfect for this story, I couldn't resist! XD
- I have to give credit to my little sister for helping me brainstorm this story. Many elements wouldn't have made it in without her input, including the whole 'pie' angle. :)