#hence why this is the first maintenance session chris has had in a while

[razzle-zazzle]

2849 Words; Android in the Middle AU, Let the Rhinos Roll

“Try oxpeckers,” Chris laughed, Zach ducking frantically as the flying whatevers continued their assault. “And they can’t help being attracted to parasites!”

"Oh, just shut up!" Zach shrieked. "You're so annoying!" He was hitting his limit. The birds, the Kratt—it was more than Zach was willing to handle.

Chris grinned back, though it was more of a grimace. "You're the one who built me." He pointed out. "Maybe you should have thou—"

"Override Z-fifteen, code seven-one-nine-eight-five." Zach snapped, cutting Chris off. Chris stilled, arms going slack at his sides and face becoming neutral. He remained standing, staring blankly through the bars of his cell, but nothing more.

Zach huffed. God, why did Chris have to be so creepy like this? Blank-eyed and unmoving like some weird doll. He wasn’t even blinking.

The override wasn’t even really that bad. Just one that Zach and Martin would use to disable movement when it was needed—or worse, if Chris went all robot rebellion on them. Which had never actually happened, and wasn’t likely. But still. It never hurt to be prepared.

There were far worse override codes that Zach could have used. Codes that Martin could still use, too.

Not that Martin would use them now. Zach scowled. Not when he’s too busy playing house with all of his friends.

Zach poked Chris’ face though the bars.

There was no outward response. Just an unblinking, lifeless stare.

It looked a lot like when Donita used her pose beam, Zach realized. Except even then the varmints—and, quite often, the brothers—could still look around.

There was another realization lurking in the corners of his mind at that, but Zach brushed it away. Whatever it was couldn’t be important. Besides, Chris wasn’t a varmint. He was certainly much better than any animal—better than most people, even.

Well. To an extent. He was still a Wild Rat.

“I should just get on with the rhino-dozing,” Zach muttered, shaking his head. Enough of this introspection bullshit. He glanced at his row of rhino-dozers; they were all ready to be deployed.

Zach glanced back at Chris. “But I could also do a systems diagnostic…”

Where had that thought even come from? Zach hadn’t done maintenance on Chris in months.

He should really just stick to his plan.

It was probably just the lack of motion reminding him of Chris’ true nature. Yeah. That was it—there was no way Zach was actually feeling sentimental. Zach Varmitech did not do sentimentality. That was for other people.

But it would still be nice to check.

And when else would he be able to? When else would he be able to look over the systems he himself had designed? He still had the blueprints and plans, sure, but working with the actual invention itself was always much more fun.

It probably wasn’t even necessary. Chris was traveling the world with Aviva and… the Other One, who Zach was pretty sure was just as mechanically inclined as Aviva. They probably did maintenance weekly like the goody two shoes they were.

Zach’s lip curled, a growl in his throat. His shoulders hunched slightly, drawn in by his ire.

Chris remained still and silent.

Well, at least he wouldn’t cause issues in Zach’s plan, if he was stuck in place.

But the lack of motion was unnerving.

Zach cringed. “Okay, yeah, that’s creepy.” It didn’t help that the override only disabled motion—Chris could still see and hear, which just made the complete lack of motion even creepier—there were no movements or expressions to betray his thoughts.

Fine, then. “Cancel override.” Zach repeated the code, Chris’ system beeping in response to the recognized command.

Chris blinked, hands flexing as mobility returned. He paced in a circle for a few moments, then turned to glare at Zach. “Really? Did you have to pull that card?”

There was more disappointment in his voice than anger.

Zach raised an eyebrow, then gestured for a Zachbot to come over. “Ready the rhino-dozers.” He wasn’t going to dignify Chris’ petty antics with a response. He moved to get on the lead dozer.

Zach smirked. Time to enact his plan.

The hangar door creaked open with a groan. Zach frowned. He’d have to look into that. His hanger should not be creaking like that.

“Uh—wait!” Chris flailed a bit, banging his hand against the bars with a clang. “…you have my permission.” He said softly, shaking out his hand.

Zach paused, his rhino-dozer stopping before it even started charging. “What?”

“Maintenance.” Chris clarified, with the air of someone who wasn’t thinking ahead so much as jumping directly into the dark. “You can go ahead and… do that.”

Zach’s eyes narrowed. An attempt to buy time? The longer he dallied, the more likely it was that Martin and Aviva would figure out his ruse. But Chris was, as always, nauseatingly sincere, fixing Zach with an expression that he couldn’t decipher.

And even though it wasn’t necessary, Zach still wanted to look. Not because of any sentimentality of course—it was just to make sure everything was in order. He could even see if Aviva had made any modifications!

And wouldn’t that be just like her, Zach sneered, to see something and try to “improve” it. Like Chris’ design needs any improvements.

Zach held up his hand, signaling for his Zachbots to pause, not that there was really any more for them to do now that the rhino-dozers were all ready to go. “Why?”

Chris shrugged. “Haven’t had it done in a while.” He said, like that explained anything. “Should probably check things even if nothing comes up in self-checks.”

“No,” Zach muttered, lowering his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, “I mean why are you trusting me with this?” It’d been months since the last time they’d really talked on anything even approaching friendly terms. Chris was his own person—and more than that, he was Martin’s brother.

Chris picked a tick off of the nearest rhino. “Well, it’s not like I have a problem with you, personally.” He mused, drawing an oxpecker near with the tick, “The animal cruelty, the massive ego, the theft, yes—but you as a person?” He stared Zach down with another one of those looks Zach couldn’t decipher. “You’re not as bad as you try to present yourself.” Chris set the tick in the lock of his cell while Zach sputtered in protest. “Besides,” he added, as the oxpecker came down to pry the tick out of the lock, unlocking the door with a click, “I know this is something I can trust you with.” Sliding the door open, Chris stepped out of the cell.

“Please,” Zach scoffed, trying to regain some sense of dignity, “I could tamper with your systems! Put in a bug that Aviva could never find! Take out your memory drive!” He flailed about as he spoke, as if that would somehow convey a sense of danger to Chris.

“So you could.” Chris was standing directly in front of Zach, a pointed look to his face. “But would you?”

Zach opened his mouth to speak—closed it.

Tried again—no words came out.

“Of course not.” He muttered, finally, when no rebuttal came to hand. “Your design is flawless as is.” He added.

“Eh.” Chris opined, waving a hand dismissively. He did not elaborate.

Zach wasn’t sure he wanted him to.

“…Fine.” Zach flagged down one of his many Zachbots. “Go get my secondary tools, set C-five.” He commanded, sending the bot zipping off to complete its task. He turned back to Chris, who was already removing his pullover and shirt to give Zach access to his chest hatch, “Any modifications I should be made aware of?” Zach asked drily. He couldn’t wait to hear the list of “improvements” Aviva had made.

Just the thought made Zach want to gag.

“Nope!” Chris’ voice was irritatingly chipper. His chest split open, panels sliding back to reveal the wiring and machinery inside. That his chest had looked completely human and seamless moments ago was hardly worth mentioning.

Zach grabbed a cord from one of his computers, already moving to attach it to the port in Chris’ chest for a software check. “Funny.” He commented, not even trying to keep the acid from his voice, “I’d have thought Aviva would have made multiple ‘improvements’ by now.” His eyes poured over the data scrolling along his computer screen, not even sparing Chris a glance as he read through the maintenance logs.

Wait.

Zach scowled at his screen. That couldn’t be right.

Why was the last recorded session of any sort several months ago?

Chris fidgeted. “Um.” He began. “Aviva wouldn’t make improvements without asking me?”

The Zachbot he’d sent off earlier came back with the requested set of tools, setting them down before moving to hover behind Zach.

Zach blinked, still not looking at Chris. “Please tell me that the one person who can actually do maintenance, who you are in regular contact with, is aware that you are, in fact, mechanical.”

Chris’ silence was all the answer Zach needed.

“Right.” Zach massaged his temples to stave off the approaching headache. He’d thought he’d programmed Chris to have at least some small degree of sense, but apparently not.

That or Martin was rubbing off on Chris, which was a depressingly more realistic explanation.

“I’ve been holding up well though!” Chris chirped, not that it helped in any way, “No major issues, even with how dangerous creature adventuring can be!”

Zach did not find that particularly convincing. Rather than express such a sentiment to someone who would obstinately refuse to understand it—

(“If everything’s working as it should, then it’s fine!” No, it wasn’t, because functional wasn’t good enough. It had to be efficient, and durable, and if nothing was done to maintain that then eventually it wouldn’t even be functional anymore!

But Chris would just be his same stupid self-sacrificing self and spit the same line again, like everything was fine when it wasn’t, so Zach wasn’t even going to bother.

There were more important fights to pick, anyway.)

—Zach picked up his tools and got to work.

Chris hummed as Zach removed panels, checking the components within. Held still as Zach ran both internal and physical diagnostics. Watched as Zach moved in silence, content to just stand back and observe.

It was achingly familiar, though Zach was loath to admit it. How many times before had they done this, Chris patiently waiting while Zach went through his insides? How long had it been since the last time they’d done this, before the contact between them dwindled into radio silence?

Not that Zach was exactly eager to reestablish any sort of connections. They’d both made their choices—Chris had chosen to follow his brother. Those idiots would be loyal to each other until the very end.

Chris was staring at the screen, something pensive in his eyes as Zach examined a circuit board in his arm.

“I’ve missed this.” He admitted quietly, likely not even intending for Zach to hear.

Zach paused.

Chris panicked. “Er, I mean—” He flailed his free hand about as he backtracked, “It’s not like I miss the animal cruelty, but—well—you know—I—the maintenance is certainly nice, but—well—you see—” He lowered his hand in defeat. “…I miss talking to you.”

Zach hated that the statement made him preen. “Do you now?” He asked, before his brain could catch up with his body and beat the smugness out of it with a heavy stick.

“I’ve missed a lot of things about talking to you.” Chris retorted, to which Zach scoffed. “Your ego is not one of those things.”

Zach grinned. “I like to think it’s my best quality.” He insisted, unwillingly relishing in the way Chris groaned in annoyance.

Fuck, he had missed this.

Not that he could ever admit that.

Zach clamped down on any enjoyment he had. Right. No more of this faffing about. He should just throw Chris back in the cell and get on with rhino-dozing. He shouldn’t have even agreed to do maintenance in the first place—this mistake had cut open vulnerabilities that he wasn’t supposed to have, dammit.

But he loathed to do a job halfway. He couldn’t just stop in the middle of maintenance.

With a grimace, Zach resumed his work. He’d just have to ignore any more attempts to crack him open like a poached egg, then. Yeah, he could do that. No more spilling out warm gooey bullshit. He was a rock from now on. A hard, unbreakable rock. Nothing gooey or warm inside him.

Chris watched Zach work with an indecipherable gaze. Maybe there was something calculating in there, or maybe it was a spark of realization. Zach wouldn’t know—he was very pointedly not looking anywhere near Chris’ face.

“You missed this too, didn’t you?” Chris asked, a slight edge to his voice.

Zach hated that Chris was right. “No.” He denied. He hadn’t missed a bit of this. Chris was just as annoying as ever.

Chris lit up. “You do!” He insisted, voice alight with warmth that Zach refused to acknowledge. “C’mon, Zach, just admit it. You missed this stuff.” He grinned teasingly. “You missed me.”

Zach gagged. “Please. You and your brother love those varmints way too much to ever be on friendly terms with me.” He spat, channeling all of his carefully cultivated vitriol into his words.

“I know you’re not stupid, Zach,” Chris hissed, “You’re fully capable of making up for past mistakes. Why you continue to ignore the evidence right before your eyes is beyond me.”

Zach bristled. Chris was trying to make him admit something—what, Zach couldn’t say—and Zach Varmitech was not someone who got led around. Zach Varmitech did not take orders from his own creations, as carefully disguised as those demands were.

Zach snarled, mouth opening to retort—

“Forget it.” Chris muttered. “Just… do your little robotics thing.”

That felt an awful lot like a dismissal.

Zach scowled. “We’re not talking about this later,” He decided, “Because once I’m done you’ll leave my jet and we’ll be back on unfriendly terms.” He glared up at Chris. “Is that clear?”

Chris looked as though he’d swallowed something foul. He looked towards the rhino-dozers. “You don’t actually believe that.” He muttered.

Zach didn’t deign Chris’ remark with a response.

He didn’t stop doing maintenance, either.

+=+=+=+=+

“Ugh, that was so stupid.” Chris muttered. He kicked his legs slightly, but that didn’t really do anything when he was lying face-up in his bunk.

Hours had passed since Zach’s ill-fated attempt at mobilizing his rhino-dozers and taking down the Tortuga. Now that the rhinos were freed and the remains of Zach’s robots cleaned up, the crew had retired back to the Tortuga for some needed downtime.

Though in Martin’s case, that meant donning rhino powers to play in the mud with Nubs (and make sure nothing else happened to the herd). But Jimmy was playing video games at his station, and last Chris had seen Koki and Aviva were playing a card game on the table.

Martin had asked Chris to come join him, but Chris had declined, citing exhaustion from “keeping Zach busy gloating for so long.”

Which wasn’t exactly wrong, per se—Chris had mostly been looking to keep Zach busy when he’d asked to have maintenance done. He’d had no intentions of dredging up old memories.

Chris sighed. That maintenance session had given him a lot to think about. His joints hadn’t felt this smooth since—since last year, actually. Every system was at or near peak efficiency.

“Which is great, don’t get me wrong!” Chris muttered, flexing his hand. From a practical standpoint, it meant he’d perform better on creature missions. From a physical standpoint, it felt really good, like having a broken part replaced with a new one.

From a sentimental standpoint, though?

He hadn’t been lying when he’d admitted to missing the maintenance sessions. There was something really nice about the familiarity of it, something soft about so easily slipping back into an old routine, banter included.

“But it’s still different.” Chris mused, sitting up. “The three of us are different than we were two years ago.”

And that was the crux of it, wasn’t it? The meticulosity of Zach’s ministrations were the same, but the tone of the banter was different, subdued.

And that wasn’t something that would be changing anytime soon, if the way Chris and Zach had parted today was any indication. Zach still treated animals like robots. Chris couldn’t overlook that.

Chris blinked. “But what if…” He leaned back against the wall, “What if that changed?”

Chris could regain that easy camaraderie they’d had, if only Zach stopped being a dick.

“And if Zach stops seeing animals as objects,” Chris realized, “Then he and Martin could try to get along again, too.”

But how? How would such a reconciliation be facilitated? Zach and Martin were very decidedly not going to come to a resolution on their own—not now, and not ever.

Unless…

Chris stood up from his bunk, sudden motivation filling him with energy.

He needed a new notebook.