(AN: i hate the movie and the story of the ps4 game, but i liked the idea of Ratchet having a foster parent/mentor/whatever, bcos otherwise how did he learn how to build ships n stuff lmao like you dont just pull that shit outta ur ass. so i like to think that ratchet had some sort of foster parent in the original ps2 game, but they died, which could have made Ratchet wanna leave his home in the first place. that's just my personal headcanon, and the rest of this chapter should coincide with the game's canon (besides ratchet and clank buttfucking lmao obviously thats not canon but you know) also lmao at me waiting 2 yrs to update this piece of shit but yeah, was gonna stop at 2 chapters but this one got long so im making a 3rd chapter)

When Ratchet was sent to Veldin as a baby, he was taken in by Grim, a lone mechanic, who raised him as his own. He cared for him. He loved him. He gave him his name. As the Lombax grew older, he taught him everything he knew about mechanics and self-defense. Ever since Ratchet was old enough to speak, he would babble on to Grim about how he wanted to build a spaceship and explore the entire Universe. He wanted to see what each galaxy had in store, and he wanted Grim to be there to see it with him, too.

Grim was murdered when Ratchet was only 15 after local raiders were informed that an endangered species was inhabiting Kyzil Plateau and raided their garage in an attempt to kidnap him and sell him to the highest bidder.

Heartbroken, Ratchet decided to build a spaceship and finally leave Veldin and everything that reminded him of Grim behind to start a new life somewhere else. He spent several months building that ship, but he was missing an important component that allowed it to start. That was, of course, before Clank crash landed several meters away. That little robot was exactly what the ship needed. If it weren't for him, he'd still be stuck on Veldin. Clank helped him become the man he is today.

And he treated him like shit. He insulted him. Threatened him. Pushed him around. Called him horrible things. All of it came from Clank making an honest mistake.

Sure, Ratchet was young and foolish back then. They became best friends afterwards, and Clank forgave him without a second thought. What stuck with Ratchet during the last two years, however, was that it happened again. Before Clank disappeared, Ratchet blew up on him. He'd doubted Clank's experiences with the Zoni, and he disregarded all of his warnings regarding the Dimensionator. After all their years of going on adventures together, of being best friends, Ratchet called him a pain in the ass.

This wasn't when he was a child; he was a grown adult by that time. He had no excuse. The guilt ate away at Ratchet's soul, even with Clank back home, safe and sound. As he laid in bed, with Clank powered down on his charging station, he still couldn't shake the guilt away. Ratchet turned over on his back and stared at his bedroom ceiling. He hated how Clank was so quick to forgive him and almost wanted him to be angry. He didn't deserve to be his friend.

He didn't deserve to be his lover.

When Ratchet awoke the next day past noon, Clank was absent from his charging station. He didn't see him anywhere else in their bedroom, either. He slid out of bed, slipped on an over-sized T-shirt with Qwark's logo on it, and walked out of his bedroom to see that the living room was spotless. Ratchet chuckled and shook his head. "Couldn't wait for me to wake up, could ya, pal?"

Clank poked his head out from the kitchen doorway. He was slightly dingy and covered in dirt from all the cleaning he'd done to their apartment. "You slept in later than normal, and the filth you let accumulate had been lying dormant in our living space for over 2 years. I did not want to spend another second in this apartment knowing what germs and bacteria could be growing beneath our feet."

"I'm sure you could've waited a bit longer for me."

"Hardly."

"I would've helped you, ya know."

"I know you would have."

Ratchet walked over to Clank, looking around him as he approached the kitchen. He whistled. "Looks like a whole new place. You about done, or is there something I can do?" Ratchet offered.

"Well," Clank pondered with a finger to his chin, "I do appear to need assistance reaching the top of the fridge and cupboards in order to finish dusting. Then the housework will be completed."

Ratchet nodded and picked up the robot. The lombax was vertically challenged himself, so he had to stand on his toes to get Clank to the top. Even then, however, Clank was just barely able to reach the back with his duster. Modern homes were obviously not designed with lombaxes in mind, but what can you expect when the population's average height was 7 feet tall.

When the surfaces were dust-free, Clank hopped down from Ratchet's hold. "Thank you, Ratchet. There was enough dust up there to make a nice winter coat." He finished with his signature laugh that Ratchet could never get enough of.

"Happy to help," Ratchet replied, "but there's still one thing that needs to be cleaned."

Clank tilted his head. "Really? Did I miss a spot?"

"I meant you, smart guy." Ratchet got down on one knee and pressed his thumb to Clark's forehead, gently wiping it to the right and leaving a bright smear. He then turned his thumbprint towards Clank. "You're covered in this." Ratchet then laughed upon witnessing Clark's horrified expression. He picked up the robot again and placed him on the counter. "Stay put, I'll grab your kit."

He stood up and went back to the bedroom, coming back with a slightly rusted toolbox coated with chipped blue paint. He placed it next to Clank and opened it up. He fished around the pool of spare parts and screws until he found Clank's bottle of liquid cleaner. He placed it on the counter along with a ratty dish rag and walked away to let him do his thing.

As Clank wiped himself clean, Ratchet decided to have a sandwich for breakfast. He got out the bread, lettuce, and canned tuna and combined the ingredients together. Before topping it off with the final slice of bread, he slathered everything in relish and mayo. He leaned against the counter and began to dig into it, only getting a few bites in before Clank spoke.

"Ratchet?" Clank said, putting his self cleaning on hold, "Would you..." He paused, his gaze shifting to the side for a moment. "Would you mind helping me?" He requested as he held the tag out to his friend with an outstretched arm. Ratchet put down his sandwich and grabbed the rag, turning Clank so that his back was facing him. He had trouble reaching back there. He had helped him clean himself a hundred times before. After all, you don't do the kind of work they do and come out of it squeaky clean. He should be used to this, so why was he so hesitant to ask?

As his thoughts trailed, Ratchet put another dab of liquid on the rag before wiping down Clank's back, getting in between all of his grooves and crevices. He was sure not to miss a single spec of dirt. If he did, Clank would never let him live it down. He continued to wipe him down after he was clean, however. He was mesmerized by the sight of Clank. He was now shinier than ever, as it looked like Ratchet was looking into a mirror. He felt his boxed frame as he continued to scrub him down. The robot always looked beautiful after a good cleaning. He wondered how a robot that small could contain such beauty. Everything from his inner coils to his outer chrome finish turned him on immensely-

"Ratchet," Clank said, bringing his friend back to reality, "I think you have done a sufficient job. You can stop now."

He stopped, realizing he got too lost in his thoughts and was surprised he didn't dent his body with how hard he was wiping. He dropped the rag and brought his hands to his sides. "Yeah, right. Uh, sorry about that, pal, I just...There was a spot I couldn't get "off, b-but it's gone now!"

"I see." Clank didn't seem to be suspicious. "Thanks for your help, Ratchet." He slid off the counter and hit the floor with a clink. "Now that I am presentable, I am going out for a while to run a few errands."

Ratchet blinked. "Errands? What kind?"

"Well, we have 2 years' worth of bills to catch up on, and I require to do a bit of shopping."

"Alright then, just gimme a sec to shower and I'll-"

Clank began to walk out of the kitchen. "No no, that will not be necessary. I am fully capable of taking care of these tasks on my own. Just stay here and," Clank paused and turned his head to look up at Ratchet, "...try your best to get some rest." He said his goodbyes and walked through the doorway.

When Ratchet heard the front door open and close, he sighed and ran a hand over his eyes. "I'm such an idiot," he muttered under his breath as he let out a sigh. He couldn't believe he let himself get out of control like that. He used to be able to control himself around Clank and ignore his feelings for the most part, but with the incident that occurred the night before along with what had just taken place, it was clear that Ratchet couldn't deny his romantic feelings towards him for much longer. They were getting out of control.

'That's probably why he left as soon as I'd finished. I bet I creeped him out, and he just wanted to get as far away from me as he could,' Ratchet thought, "If I don't put a cap on this behavior, I'll drive my best friend away for good." Ratchet left to sit in the shower. He didn't finish his sandwich.

Clank came back about 2 hours later carrying 3 grocery bags; 2 in each hand with the third one hanging over his shoulder. Ratchet wasn't in the living room, and Clank didn't see him in the kitchen as he placed the bags on the floor either. "Ratchet? I am home. Where are you?" Clank called out as he headed towards their bedroom door and opened it. The lights were off, and Ratchet was lying in bed on his stomach, his face buried in his pillow. When he heard the door open, he turned his head to look at his friend. "Sorry, did I wake you?" Clank asked, concern in his voice.

"Nah, don't worry about it. I don't need to sleep all day anyways." Ratchet sat up and rubbed at his eyes and smiled. "So, did you manage to have fun without me?"

"I completed each task efficiently. How are you feeling now, Ratchet?"

"How am I feeling?" Ratchet repeated, raising a brow, "Fine. Why do you ask?"

"It is just that you have been acting strange ever since we have returned home. I assumed that you were sick," explained Clank as he walked over to Ratchet and jumped onto the bed to sit beside him, "Unless there is something else bothering you."

Ratchet stuttered, "Whaaaaat? I'm not si- Come on, I feel great!" He let out a laugh, smiling big for Clank to show him that nothing was wrong despite the fact that it was an obvious lie. Even Qwark wouldn't fall for that. Ratchet stopped smiling when, suddenly, he felt a cold, metallic hand on top of his. He looked down and saw Clank's sad expression.

"Ratchet...I cannot begin to imagine what you have been through these past few years," Clank began, "We have not yet properly discussed any of it. If you need to talk, do not hesitate to come to me. You can tell me anything."

"Clank, I-"

"Please. Whatever is on your mind is clearly affecting you, both mentally and physically. I hate it when you stubbornly keep these things from me when simply telling me would help you."

Ratchet was taken aback by Clank's change in tone. Clank didn't get like this often, but each time he got this distraught hurt Ratchet immensely. He hated doing this to him, but he intended to keep this a secret for as long as he could. Still, this didn't make Ratchet feel any less guilty. He frowned and looked away, feeling heartbroken over the fact that Clank was upset because of him.

Clank noticed Ratchet's drastic shift in expression. He sighed, "I...I suppose I cannot make you do anything, but do keep it in mind. I just worry about you. I do not want you feel like you have to keep everything bottled up."

Ratchet took his time to reply, tapping his foot nervously as he stared a hole into the door. He just wanted this conversation dropped so he could leave and get the rest of the day over with.

"...Ratchet?"

"Look, I'll-" he said, suddenly and a bit louder than he intended. When he finished his sentence, his voice was much softer. He removed his hand from underneath Clank's and looked at him. "I'll think about it, okay?" He got off the bed and left their room without looking back at Clank, whom he'd left sitting by himself in the dark.

An hour and a half later, Ratchet was outside on the patio, sitting on the floor and tinkering with his Combuster. It'd jammed on him just a few days prior, so he was taking it apart to see what might have caused it. Repairing weapons and ships was always a stress-relieving hobby for Ratchet, and he loved doing it, even if the weapons he'd spend hours upon hours fixing would eventually end up lost and never to be seen again. He was terrible at keeping up with them, which would prove to be expensive at the start of each call to adventure when he'd have to purchase an entire replacement arsenal. Since he made enough bolts to afford all these new weapons and then some, he decided that keeping track of all his old weapons wasn't worth it.

He was getting close to reassembling the gun when Ratchet heard the door behind him opened. "Ratchet, I have prepared a meal for you." He turned to see Clank wearing an over-sized apron littered with stains of differing sizes and colors. Looking behind the robot through the slightly ajar door, Ratchet glanced at the state of the kitchen. It looked worse than it did when they returned home. "If you are no longer busy, I would like for you to come back inside and have some."

"You cooked?" said Ratchet confusedly with a raised eyebrow, "Since when do you know how to do that?"

"I looked up a recipe on the Holonet. I made your favorite." Clank was very excited to reveal his culinary creation, almost singing as he spoke as well as wiggling his body a bit. "Markazian trout."

Ratchet had to laugh at how enthusiastic his friend was over his own cooking. He grunted as he steadily got up to his feet. "Alright, I'll come in and have a taste, Iron Chef." He walked into the living room, where Clank had set up the coffee table with a tablecloth, silverware, and the trout. It was decorated by a few candles and a thin vase filled with flowers. Adorable. Even if his meal doesn't pass the taste test, Ratchet will definitely give him an A+ for presentation. Ratchet sat down on the couch in front of his meal, and Clank stood next to the table, closely watching Ratchet and waiting for him to take the first bite.

"Is there something wrong?"

Ratchet stared at it. It actually looked pretty good. It wasn't burnt, and it seemed to be seasoned well. However, he knew firsthand that appearances can be deceiving. He was a bit nervous to try it, hence why he was taking his time. "No, nothing's wrong. It looks great, really." Normally he trusted Clank 100% of the time, but he had doubts that someone with no sense of taste could cook something edible. When he looked at the trout and then back at Clank, however, he knew he couldn't bring himself to decline his act of goodwill. With a sudden influx of bravery, he picked up his fork and knife and began cutting into the meat, tearing off a nice chunk of flesh before placing it on his awaiting tongue.

Ratchet chewed, and then his eyes widened as the flavor hit him like a grav-train. No restaurant he'd ever been to could ever match this quality . He had no idea how Clank could have done it. Not only can he not taste food, but he had never cooked before today. It would be more believable if he had a tiny food wizard in his chest compartment. "Holy crap," Ratchet gushed as he chewed, then swallowed. He rolled his eyes and moaned to himself in pleasure. "Clank, this is really good," he said, making Clank gleam with joy, "Best trout I've ever had. Are you sure this is your first time cooking?"

Clank giggled. "I am pleased that you like it."

"'Like' is an understatement." Ratchet wasted no time getting another bite. "Man, I think I'll just have you cook every night from now on."

"I would not mind that."

Ratchet began cutting into the fish again, prepping another chunk. He was admittedly very hungry, as he had not eaten much that day, so he was just short of inhaling it whole. "Y'know, I can't imagine cooking like this and not being able to taste."

"You cannot miss what you never had."

"So you've never wanted to?"

"Well," Clank began as he watched Ratchet continue to eat, "I admit I have always been curious. I suppose there are a few things I would like to be able to do that my current anatomy will not allow."

"Like what, whistling?"

"Not exactly, but...close."

"What is it?"

"Well..." Clank brought his fingertips together and turned his head to the side, seemingly embarrassed. "one thing I wish I could experience would be a kiss."

Ratchet paused as he was bringing another forkful to his maw before bringing his arm back down. "Really?" Ratchet asked, surprised, "I mean, no offense or anything. It's just...I've seen you kiss other robots. You don't need lips for that."

"True." Clank seemed to be in a bit more somber mood. "Though I would need lips if I were to kiss someone organic."

Ratchet's breath hitched, and he began gripping the couch leather with his free hand. His face began to feel hot. He began nervously eating again while looking down at his plate, and, when he finished, he helped Clank clean up the mess. They didn't speak a word for the rest of the night.