Chapter Text
“Ya’ll ready?”
“We are ready!”
Johann blinks excitedly.
Dell leans in and with a last click, the box is set into place in his throat, a shiny new speaker covering the newly riveted hole. He’s so excited he can hardly contain himself. The last few days have been a stressful whirlwind of coping with the team who tried to bash both him and Misha to death.
Some of them were more willing to listen than others. Misha had made it abundantly clear to the Scout who initiated the attack what would happen to him if he started anything again.
Funnily enough, the red paint job really seemed to help. His body and gloves are a shiny new bright red, his hair is painted an inky black, and he even painted his own glasses gold. He feels handsome.
The finishing touch is the voice box that has just been clipped into his mainframe. He’s so nervous he can’t think of a thing to say.
“Well go on, sonny. Try it out,” the Engineer coaxes.
Johann looks between the two of them. He can sense the programming in his mainframe, but he’s so afraid it won’t work that he’s almost too worried to try. He puffs his chest out and then slumps his shoulders to mimic a deep breath, and then feeds information through the voice box.
“Is- it- work- ing?”
Misha's face breaks out into a wide grin and he shouts with joy. Pulling Johann into a tight grip he answers, "Da! Is working! Is working perfectly! Say more. Say Misha, please."
“Mi- sha.” Johann’s syllables are artificial and lilting, but they’re his.
Misha has tears in his eyes but he blinks them away, not wanting confuse him into thinking that he's sad. So he keeps grinning. Johann with his own voice, being able to voice his own thoughts for the first time, is like a dream come true.
“Th- ank- you- En- gin- eer,” Johann says to Dell, who just gives him a nod and a smile as he packs up his tool box.
“That doohickey ever gets damaged ya just come to me, hear? I’ll be able to fix it up new,” he says as he leaves the old med bay to give the pair some privacy.
Johann wheels over a cracked mirror and inspects his new speaker, running a finger around the shiny silver rim. He looks brand new- better than brand new. He looks better than any of the other robots ever looked coming directly off the line.
He turns to face Misha. “Wh-at- hap- pens- now?”
"Now I say I love you. And you say it back for first time." Misha answers, taking Johann's hands. "Then we kiss and go to war."
Johann extends his axel – another new addition to his anatomy courtesy of the Engineer – so his face is level with Misha's, and leans forward to press his mouth plate against Misha's lips.
“I – lo- ve- you,” he says with the volume turned down so it’s as quiet and intimate and meaningful as he can make it. It’ll take a while for him to get used to how his own voice sounds, but Misha seems to love it already.
Misha kisses Johann's face plate and pretends that he can feel him pushing back, returning the kiss. They stay like that for a moment, pressed together, enjoying the stillness and closeness. For a moment they're in their own little world. It's beautiful and perfect and something Misha was sure he would never experience again after Erik.
Finally he pulls back and gives Johann a smile before letting go of his hands to hand him a medigun.
"Got this for you. Engineer made some changes to customize it. Will be better than any other." he explains. "From now on, you come with me. To protect me."
Johann puffs up with pride. He’s going to protect Misha, keep him safe, make sure he comes home every night so they can be together forever until all of Misha's parts wear out and he dies for real some day.
“To- war.” He says and takes the Heavy’s hand, leading him this time rather than following. He’s ready.
The morning is chilly, he can see condensation forming on his warm plates already, and clouds forming from Misha's mouth and dripping from his nose. The rest of the team come up beside them on either side as they walk out to the place the first wave of Mann Co. robots will come.
He flicks the switch on his gun and it whirs to life as the robots approach as a clanking horde in the distance. Misha nods at him and he nods in return, the ubercharge ready and building red static in his gun.
Johann is frightened and excited. He’ll be fighting his own kind.
Or, no, they’re not really anything like him, he decides. They don’t feel. They don’t cry or love or feel fear or pain or joy. They don’t die like he can. He might be made of metal, but he’ll never be a robot again.
When he opens fire with the rest of his team, he feels peace.