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til death do we part (though you found me after)

Summary:

CAN BE READ AS PLATONIC OR ROMANTIC

Tennis Ball and Golf Ball build a faster recovery center, which leads to Tennis Ball having a death experience.

Notes:

for tuna on discord - HAPPY BIRTHDAY

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Tennis Ball walked into the lab, the sun painting long rectangles across the tile floor. The workshop looked like it always did—half-organized chaos. Wires everywhere, blinking lights that didn’t seem connected to anything, and Golf Ball hunched over her latest invention like she hadn't moved since sunrise.

“Hey,” he said. “You said you needed help?”

Golf Ball didn’t look up. “You’re twenty-four minutes late.”

“Yeah. I got distracted. There was a gear stuck in Nickel’s toaster.”

“Why were you in Nickel’s toaster?”

“I wasn’t. The gear was.” He stepped closer. “Anyway. What is this thing?”

Golf Ball stepped back just enough to reveal the device on the bench—a small cube, about the size of a speaker, wired into a laptop and pulsing faintly with green light.

“Auto-recovery node,” she said. “No more waiting around for Four. Press a button, zap, you’re back.”

Tennis Ball gave a low whistle. “Nice. What’s the catch?”

“There shouldn’t be one,” she said, which was usually her way of saying there probably is, but I’m pretending there’s not so we can test it faster.

He leaned over the device, peering at the wiring. “You’re running it off a resonance cell?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm.” He paused. “You’re gonna get magnetic bleed-through if you don’t wrap the output.”

“I accounted for that.”

“Uh-huh.” He squinted. “But did you fix it?”

She sighed. “Not yet.”

He picked up a roll of copper tape from the table and started wrapping the cable himself. “There. That’ll help. Probably.”

She glanced at it. “Huh. Not bad.”

“I do actually know what I’m doing, you know.”

Golf Ball smirked. “Occasionally.”

They worked in relative silence for a few minutes—Golf Ball soldering connections at lightning speed, Tennis Ball moving more slowly but carefully, double-checking everything he touched. It wasn’t the first time they’d built something together, and even though their rhythms didn’t match, somehow it worked.

After a while, Golf Ball stepped back and clapped her metaphorical hands. “Alright. Ready to test.”

Tennis Ball tilted his head. “Live test?”

“Of course.”

“Okay... uh, just to check—am I the one getting zapped?”

Golf Ball was already reaching for the button.

“Yup.”

“Figures.”

She pressed it. In a blink of green light, Tennis Ball vanished.


A long moment passed.

Golf Ball tapped her foot.

Then, with a sharp electric whrrr, Tennis Ball reappeared in the middle of the room, looking only slightly frazzled. A puff of smoke trailed off his side.

He blinked slowly. “I was... gone. That was weird.”

“But you’re back.”

“Yeah.” He looked down at himself. “All parts accounted for. I think.”

“No pain?”

“Nope.”

“Confusion?”

“Just the usual.”

Golf Ball made a note on her clipboard. “Test one: success.”

Tennis Ball walked over to the bench and grabbed a pencil in his mouth, sketching a loose waveform across a scrap of paper.

“I didn’t see anything,” he said after a minute. “No stars, no void. Just like... off. Like I blinked and missed a frame.”

Golf Ball looked over his shoulder. “Huh. You’re not usually this talkative about test results.”

“Yeah, well.” He shrugged. “That was kinda cool.”

Golf Ball raised an eyebrow. “You realize I basically disintegrated you and put you back together.”

“Yeah.” He paused. “And I didn’t even have to wait in line. Honestly, it’s more efficient than what Four does.”

She smirked. “Told you it’d work.”

“Hey,” he said, nudging her with his foot. “Give me a little credit. I fixed your magnetic bleed.”

Golf Ball gave him a nod. “Alright, fine. We’re—what’s the word—‘partners.’”

Tennis Ball grinned faintly. “Team Nerd?”

She groaned. “Never say that again.”

He shrugged. “Too late. I'm making us badges.”