Work Text:
You work at a hole-in-the-wall mechanic shop in New Eridu. It's down a back alley and specialises in Bangboo and W-Engine repairs, although you've had a few unique requests from Hollow Raiders: weapons of all descriptions have passed through the doors. What you can comfortably say hasn't been in for repair before is an entire person.
When you hear the bell at your front door chime, followed by multiple sets of rushed footsteps, you're quick to leave the backroom to help your new customers — assuming it's the video store siblings with a Bangboo that's been acting up.
"Hi, how can I..."
Two girls are standing at the front desk with a human-shape hunk of metal between them. The cyborg has both arms slung over their shoulders and multiple raw wires, sparking and hissing lightly. It's green eyes flicker, and you notice it trying to tilt its head upwards to look at you. Even with all the damage that's been inflicted, the craftsmanship is obviously incredible; if you had time to sit and admire it, you definitely would.
"You were recommended by a friend; please help us!" One of the girls starts talking at lightning speed, pushing a notepad onto your desk with an incredibly long list of damages, errors, and malfunctions, "It happened during a hollow raid—it just came out of nowhere—"
"Nicole, you aren't helping the situation right now." The other girl is noticeably calmer and straight-faced, "Our friend, Billy, has sustained severe damages, and we were told you would likely be able to help fix them. That list is everything he recognised before his vocal system shut down."
Nicole, you assume, is frantically looking in her bag as she begins again, "we don't care about the cost; please just help us!"
The scrambled explanation had left you lost for words, and as you read over the damages list, you can see the price tag of this repair creeping higher and higher. It feels wrong to charge for the repair of a cyborg; it feels like you're being asked to perform a risky surgery in front of the patient's entire family. The closest you had ever gotten to such a situation was a Bangboo that had been mauled in a Hollow, and that was already enough pressure on your shoulders.
"This is an emergency; don't worry about the cost right now. Do you think you'd be able to take him into the workshop? It's just through that door; I need to grab some tools and forms you'll have to fill out. I'll have to charge you for a warranty, as well."
They both nod sharply at your words, moving into the workshop with hurried steps.
It doesn't take you long to grab your tools, scrambling into the room and placing everything down on your workbench. Billy's propped onto the couch, obviously being too big to fit onto the wooden desk you would usually use. You pass each girl a form, explaining the details they need to fill out: "Name, contact number, ite— err, person to be repaired. Ignore anything about deliveries: obviously, you'll have to come and pick him up. Could you also sign this warranty form, and then you're free to leave?"
You don't hang around them after passing off the forms, you move straight over to the cyborg and look over the immediately noticeable damages.
"This might take a while, but he'll be my top priority, and you're both more than welcome to visit. I'll also update you if something needs urgent attention, just let me know who is best to contact. I hate to say it due to the circumstances, but once all repairs are carried out, I'll create a receipt and send you the invoice for everything."
After getting the forms back and being told that Nicole was the primary contact, you got to work on the repairs.
The most obvious wound (he felt far too human to simply refer to it as physical damage) was a large tear across his torso. Starting at his left shoulder and ending just above the right side of his rip, his red jacket was practically torn to shreds, and you tried your best not to cause any further harm to it while you removed the item of clothing. In any other situation, it would've felt wrong—maybe even erotic—to be taking off clothing on something so humanoid.
"Okay, Billy, let's fix your main components first."
Luckily, he had mostly sustained injuries that wouldn't threaten his entire circuitry: vocal processing, heavily damaged protective casing, a loose arm, a lot of small, broken wires, and broken visual processing.
The damage sustained to his body meant it would be easier to remove most of it and order some new parts. You gently hooked your fingers around his shoulder plate first, as that was the most worrying area of repair and would likely have to be entirely removed, and pulled it away to reveal the intricate wiring and gears held underneath. You weren't exactly a biologist, but the engineer that had designed him had formatted the wires like veins and arteries—even from this small detail, Billy was obviously a labour of love.
The slow flickering of his green eyes never stopped as you began your work. It wasn't obvious to what extent his visual processing had been broken, but it had clearly not entirely stopped. Part of you felt more nervous knowing this—like he could be judging your every move in the computer chip where his brain would be.
Fixing the wiring issues was no harder on a cyborg than on a Bangboo, thankfully. It had taken you a couple of hours, but there was no longer a sparking fire hazard on your workshop couch. You were unsure what the best place to continue was; he hadn't shut himself down, so you felt cruel keeping his ability to speak, but you hated the thought of leaving his broken arm and eyes.
Calling Nicole, who was obviously very close to him, was your answer to the issue.
"Hi Nicole, I'm calling about Billy's repairs. He's—"
"Is he alright? He's not died, has he?" her voice is overwrought, assuming the worst.
"He's fine, I've actually finished the wiring damage everywhere except his arm. I needed to ask you what the next most crucial repair should be, though: would he want his arm, voice, or eyes fixed first?"
You can tell over the phone that Nicole is slightly embarrassed by her overreaction, but she just remains silent for a few seconds before answering, "his voice, definitely. If Billy loves to do anything, it's talk. He'll be hating the fact that he can't do or say anything to you, especially if he's awake."
There's a little bit more conversation between you, letting her know you'll have to order in some parts as his model is very specifically designed, before you put the phone down and look back over to the cyborg.
"Let's get your voice up and running, shall we?"
His voice box, when you locate it, is barely damaged. There are a few loose wires, but even after plugging them in and running a troubleshoot, it shows no sign of being fixed. It has you momentarily stumped, sat besides him, and hunched over your phone trying to find anything on the Inter-Knot about cyborg repairs. Naturally, you find very little.
"Billy, I'm sorry, but I'll have to unplug it for a moment," you aren't completely sure how much of the situation he is actually able to process; you had tried to ask a few questions and only received an occasional twitch in response.
Your fingers are gentle on his neck, sliding across the wiring from his jaw, voicebox and down to his clavicle, gently unhooking it. You mistake the sudden whirring from the fan in his chest as an issue and curse under your breath, missing the heat radiating from his entire head when you shuffle over to your workbench with the voicebox in hand.
It's shocking how similar the technology is to a Bangboo. The intricacies are made with much more expensive parts (you're almost scared to handle them) but you have a good grasp of what the issue is as you unscrew the box and spot the hardware inside has been brutalised. You can imagine the amount of pressure he must've been hit with to completely total the voice box, although you're in shock at how well the exterior has remained in tact.
It's fixed in no time with a shiny new protective case (maybe you are glad you do so many Bangboo repairs) and you're sat in front of him again, gently lifting his chin to wire the new box. The whirring of his chest had quietened but not stopped while you were sat at your desk, and it picked back up as soon as you moved closer. It worried you, but you decided it wasn't causing any issues yet so you didn't need to look at it.
A very quick troubleshoot on the voicebox was successful and you were soon waiting for Billy to start talking.
"Hello?"
30 seconds or so passes with no answer, a frown growing on your face.
"Hi."
You're in total shock at the voice, unsure whether to cheer, jump up or cry out in relief.
"You're working! Thank fuck!" You don't even notice that you're leaning so close to his face but there's that whirring fan again and oh boy is he about to overheat? Is the voicebox having issues?
It's not often that Billy has nothing to say, but, sat in front of you all blurry-eyed and broken, he finds himself coming up short. Maybe his processors are having some issues.
"Sorry, I should introduce myself." You explain how he got here and who you are, and he lets you know that he's largely been aware of the situation the whole time.
Nicole had given you the impression that he was very talkative and you wonder if maybe that's just because of how often they must be together, since you're hardly getting more than one sentence at a time.
"I wanted to ask if you had a preference for what we repaired next: I was planning on your arm because I imagine it's causing a lot of discomfort but if you'd rather—"
"Please repair my eyes first!" It's almost loud enough to be a shout, his head jolting up to make flickery eye contact. He's certain the fans in his chest have embarrassed him already so he can't find it in him to get bashful over the exclaimation. He's desperate to see.
You don't even try to argue, if that's what he wants then that is what you'll do.
★
Visual repairs aren't your usual job, so it takes you a while of tinkering and testing before you're satisfied. Billy gives you constant feedback about his optics: whether they get clearer or not, a couple times they entirely disconnect which panics you. He's is quick to calm you down and direct you.
"I've had to fix 'em a lot. Doing what we do causes lotsa scrapes and bruises, yk?"
"Yeah, of course. What got you so roughed up this time?"
You weren't completely keeping up with his explanation, something about a massive Ethereal that came out of nowhere and cornered them.
"So while Nicole is talking to our proxy, Anby and I double team this guy like we're Starlight Knights! But just before I can land a finisher—kaboom!—there's another one! And it's like this giant mech! Maaan we were so done for, I was already saying my prayers and then the next thing I know I'm being dragged here."
"Sounds like you were lucky not to have completely blacked out," you hum, tightening a few screws around his head, "at least I'm here to fix you up, hey?"
The flicker in his eyes makes you wonder if you made a mistake on the optics, but he doesn't give you the chance to check as he pulls back,
"For sure, yeah! Even luckier to have someone so skilled helping me out; most other people woulda said no."
You shrug at his words, smiling, "I'd feel terrible knowing I could've helped but turned you all away because it might be difficult. Now then," you grab his wrist gently and pull him closer again, "let's look at this arm."
It's barely attached to his body, the large gash from the Ethereal exposing the internal mechanisms. His eyes stay fixed on you as you begin to disassemble the damages components. There isn't a moment where you aren't in awe of the intricacies of him.
You don't know it, but the admiration is clear on your face while you work, leaving a gentle hum of Billy's chest to fill the silence.
"You look like a master at work," he almost stumbles over his words and the hum gets slighter louder when he realises it, "we really owe you one. Nicole'll hate that though."
"The bill might be pretty nasty, yeah..." you mumble, glancing up at him, "since you've been such good company though, I might see if I can knock a bit off the cost. You're a nice change of pace, too."
Billy laughs softly and you can't help but notice that it's filled with warmth, "happy to help, I think?"
You repair his arm in silence, feeling his intense gaze on you the entire time. It makes you incredibly nervous, worried that you'll mess up under his stare.
You wonder how often he's injured like this: how many times he's been pulled through the doors of a shady mechanic with broken parts and loose limbs. You wonder how often he gets turned away, lablled as 'too complicated' with a hefty pricetag attached. You wonder if he'd come back, if it were to happen again. Or maybe just for an oil change.
"Ahhh!" Billy's voice tears away your focus, dropping your hold on his arm and scanning for if you've made a mistake. He quickly reassures you, "Sorry, nothing's wrong."
It's then that you hear the fan in his chest, filling up the silence that settles between you. He's nervous.
"This is—uh," he moves his gaze away from you, whispering "this is so embarrassing."
You don't force him to carry on, gently holding onto his bicep to continue your work.
★
The repair goes smoothly and all that's left is to wait for the parts you ordered to arrive so you can replace them; other than that, Billy is working completely fine and ready to be picked up by Nicole and Anby. He'd only have to come back after you had the parts. Then you'd be out of his hair for the forseeable future.
Nicole and Anby come to pick him up a few minutes before your shop closes, thanking you and greeting Billy.
After organising payment (and giving a bigger discount than you should've), you're stood face-to-face with the cyborg while his friends wait patiently at the door. He's just staring for a few seconds, shifting his weight from one foot to another.
"You'll call us when the parts have arrived?"
"I'll do it as soon as the delivery man leaves," you smile and offer a thumbs up, which is interrupted by him wrapping his arms around you.
Pulled flush against him, you can only pay attention to the speed of the beating in his chest (you aren't sure how cyborg 'hearts' work. You'll look on the Inter Knot later.).
"Thank you!" he speaks far louder than intended, clapping a hand over his mouth as he pulls away, "See you soon?"
"Definitely!" you know the wait won't be long: two days, max.
He walks over to Nicole and Anby, who have already started leaving, before shouting one last goodbye,
"See you soon! I love you!"
His movement stops and a second passes before the air is filled with Nicole's boisterious laughter, "let's get you back, idiot."
Your brain isn't able to catch up with what just happened until the trio has disappeared from sight and you're left at your front desk, cheeks burning.