Chapter Text
Noah’s heart finally seems to calm as he and Mirage drive on further and further away from the secret weapon storage site that was supposed to be just a scouting mission, reconnaissance but had quickly turned into an all-out firefight when a deal with a buyer went south. Thankfully they’d made it out of there amidst the confusion between their quarreling enemies, the enemy of your enemy, and all that. It had been a mess, not in the metaphorical sense but a very literal one. Out there in the middle of nowhere, still in his home state but amongst the woods with all the mud and crud that comes with it, there was no way Mirage was going to come out of it shiny and clean.
“Man, that could’ve gone better,” Mirage mutters as he takes control so Noah can catch his breath after almost literally trying to outrun bullets.
“At least we got what we needed, so it wasn’t a waste,” Noah sighs, tugging on the collar of his old t-shirt to fan himself in the sweltering heat that’s barely broken by the AC unit Mirage has on full blast.
“Hey, true enough,” Mirage slants the driver seat back and chuckles when Noah startles, “With a job well done you should take a load off.”
“A little warning would be nice, ‘Raj,” Noah chides him, weakly thumping against the dashboard to let his annoyance be known but Mirage just laughs.
“Sure thing, partner.”
Noah rolls his eyes but caves and lays back against the seat, finally feeling the last bit of tension leave his muscles as he can finally relax. High summer in New York could be just as merciless as any other in any state in the US of A meaning hazy bands of light stretched across the streets in soft mirages. Gazing at one stretching over the horizon with the midday sun, Noah grins thinking how maybe far away on Mirage’s home planet there were roads like this with similar summer days. Such a fitting name for someone just as elusive and hard to perceive as the illusion before them. It falls and fades away as they come up through the suburbs until the greater parts of the concrete jungle spring up around them and with it, the normal facets of life in the summertime. They pass by kids playing in the spray from popped fire hydrants, glad for the sun and the relief from school it brings with it. Music blares all around from decked-out cars and carried boom boxes playing the latest sound over the raucous shouts of basketball games played in alleyways. He never thought he’d consider this peaceful, the noise and the crowds but after what he’s been through, it makes Noah’s heart feel full.
They pull up to the garage just as the sun begins to hit the horizon, washing the city in a hazy red. Even after being able to rest up, Noah still feels a bit wobbly on his legs as he hops out of Mirage to stumble over to one of the shelves to pull off a bucket full of rags and a half-empty bottle of car soap, the orange fluid caked at the cap after so much use.
“Wait for me ‘round back,” Noah calls over, flicking his head in the general direction, “There’s a hose out there ‘n I’ll be able to give you a wash. Just gonna grab some wax.”
“Uh, huh?” Mirage says smartly, “We just got back, man. You should get some rest! I’ll just go to one of those drive-thru car washes. No big.”
Noah levels a look at him, still not sure if Mirage could see him from this angle but that didn’t matter, he had a point to make.
“C’mon, man,” Noah stresses the words, too tired for an argument, “I just touched up your paint yesterday and with the heat, the mud’s already caking on. Just let me do it and do it right so I know whether or not your paint’ll crack cuz I don’t want to do it all over again so soon.”
The garage is silent for a bit, Mirage and Noah staring each other down until Mirage caves.
“Alright, alright,” Mirage groans, “I’m goin’.”
Shaking his head as Mirage rolls slowly out of the garage, Noah picks up a tin of wax and a clean rag before walking out back where he sets out his supplies and uncoils the hose that trickles sun-warmed water across the cracked asphalt. The nozzle clunks against the bottom of the bucket unceremoniously and Noah wanders over to the spigot to turn it, hissing as the hot metal hits his hand but he’s able to bare it long enough to twist it to full. Water rushes into the old paint bucket, making the hose twitch almost like it was alive before settling as water begins to pool at the bottom.
Despite the light beginning to dim, the air is still hot and oppressive, crowding around Noah in an inescapable vice. Sweat begins to trickle down his back as he adds a generous amount of soap to the bucket, staining his shirt. As bubbles begin to form, some floating up into the air with the force of the water, he drags his shirt up and over his head, tossing it aside carelessly. It’s a work shirt anyway, what’s a few more stains?
When the water in the bucket is close to the brim, he slides the hose out, feeling the blissfully cool water springing up from the underground reservoir as it speeds through the plastic membrane. Pressing his thumb over the nozzle, making the water fan out into a harsh spray, he runs it over Mirage, getting the heaviest patches of mud off his sidings, wheels, and bumpers. By the time he’s done with that, the ground is coated with water, cooling it enough for him lay down and spray Mirage’s undercarriage, getting it from as many angles as he can until he’s satisfied that most if not all the mud is gone, the water running clear down the shallow hill they’re stood on.
With one last spray over Mirage’s whole frame, Noah shuts the water off, trading the hose for a sponge that he dunks in the bucket, not so much as shaking it before taking it to Mirage’s plating. On his knees, Noah runs the sponge under Mirage’s fenders, the tough to get to places above the wheels, and washes away the grime before hitting the rims. He rings out the sponge and drowns it in the soapy water again before moving back to Mirage. As he touches Mirage's hood, he notices how warm it still is despite the cool water, the engine humming softly under his hands. Then he rounds back to Mirage’s tailgate and flinches as a spark of static shock zaps his fingers but quickly shrugs it off since that’s nothing out of the ordinary, cars build up charge all the time and it only gets worse during the summer. It makes sense that Mirage wouldn’t be any different.
As he moves to the roof, pressing himself against Mirage so he can get every bit in one go, he hears an odd sound, a soft clicking. Looking inside he sees the dials of Mirage’s stereo going crazy as the buttons click in random patterns.
“Uh, ‘Raj?” Noah broaches, casually squeezing water from the large sponge, “You okay?”
The dials and buttons go still at the first sound of his voice, but it still takes Mirage a moment to respond.
“Oh, yeah, I’m good,” Mirage’s tone is as light and friendly as ever, but there’s a bit of strain to the words that Noah can’t quite shake off.
Leaning against Mirage’s hood that’s still warm, he asks, “I’m not hurting you, right?”
“No,” Mirage gasps then makes a sound not dissimilar to someone clearing their throat, “I mean, no, you’re not hurting me. Don’t worry.”
Hesitating just a bit longer, Noah decides to just trust him and nods, getting back to work. Doing a second sweep, Noah makes sure he’s got every speck of mud off of Mirage before dropping the sponge back into the bucket in favor of the hose. Even working with cool water the summer is still unbearably hot whether you can see the sun or just the hazy sunset it is now, turning the clouds a soft pink so Noah turns the hose up and fans out the water with a sigh as the spray hits his skin waiting until it turns into thin rivulets running down his back. There’s a low rumble behind him, getting him to turn around but nothing is out of the ordinary so he just turns the hose onto Mirage to thoroughly wash away the soapy water.
When the water runs iridescent down the hill, Noah turns off the water once more and takes up the microfiber cloth. His hands move steadily and with purpose, starting with the roof and working his way down Mirage’s frame until not a drop of water was left to mar Mirage’s paint. As he works his way around, he carefully trails his hands behind the cloth, checking the paint for any and all imperfections, even the slightest grain off but doesn’t find a single one. Mirage’s paint is perfect. He must finally be listening to him and has been more careful as of late. There isn’t even so much as a scratch. Finally done with that step, Noah walks back to the bench his tools are all set out on and picks up the tin of wax paste a clean cloth.
As he smears wax onto the cloth, his mind drifts, the nagging bit of worry returning to the front of his mind. It’s not like Mirage to be this quiet, just letting things happen without a single comment or quip here and there just to keep the mood light. While assured that he hadn’t been hurting Mirage, he must be doing something wrong, right? His hands go still and he peeks over his shoulder to see the fading light reflecting off of Mirage’s freshly cleaned plating, his attention quickly returning to his hands. He’d just washed Mirage like he was any other car, he just gave Mirage a bath. Heat rises to his cheeks, embarrassment quickly taking over, making his heart race. No wonder Mirage has been so quiet. Really, how would he feel if the roles were swapped? Just as awkward no doubt. But… He’s already gotten this far and it would be inconsiderate if he stopped now after already running his hands all over Mirage, skipping the most crucial part just because he only now realized what he’d been doing.
Taking a deep breath and sighing, Noah goes back to Mirage and starts smoothing the wax over his hood. You don’t really wanna do this sort of thing outside usually but the garage was hotter than out here in the shade and Noah doesn’t want to think about what that would imply: the two of them alone, secluded from everyone else, his hands everywhere on Mirage. He swallows thickly and determinedly refocuses on his work, not wanting to botch the job. Keeping his mind on evenly spreading the wax on every inch of plating, Noah’s mind goes blissfully blank as muscle memory takes over and he puts all of his energy into doing the job. It doesn’t take too long after he’s gotten every bit of plating for the wax to dry and for Noah to wipe it off but it gives him just long enough to remember his epiphany. So he doesn’t have to look at Mriage, he tidies everything up while the wax dries, and when it’s all wiped off, he starts walking back to the garage, shirt thrown over one shoulder.
“Alright, I’m all done ‘Raj,” he calls back, doing his best to walk casually.
There’s a bit of a delay, but Mirage, sounding as laissez-faire as ever, says, “Cool, thanks, man.”
Mirage trundles in before him, parking in his usual spot but doesn’t transform into his root mode like he usually would. Noah doesn’t put it against him, probably feeling as awkward as he does now.
The door to the garage closes them in after Noah hits the switch, the sound of metal groaning against metal reverberating throughout the space.
“See ya later, ‘Raj,” Noah calls over as he sets down the supplies, “I’ll send over the intel tonight, you just get some rest.”
“Don’t forget to rest up yourself,” Mirage chides sounding almost serious, something in his voice that Noah can’t quite catch or place, “I’ll see ya tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” Noah nods and jogs out.