Work Text:
It’s just a request, Rudo tries to reassure himself, just a small little request. An adjustment. The worse he can do is say ‘no’.
Well. That’s not true. Rudo has learned over the years that there are a lot of awful things a person can do that are worse than ‘no’. Kicking you, punching you, spitting on you, stealing your food, just hurting you over and over again with words or fists or otherwise…
Yeah. A lot worse than no.
But the Cleaner’s are nice. They have been nice, he tries to reassure himself as he stares up at the tall door in front of him. They give you a room, clothes, training, sweets…They haven’t said no to you yet…
Again, that tiny part of him whispers that they haven’t seen all of him yet. That they have seen him punch Amo, but not the rest of the rage inside of him. They don’t see that its a pattern. They - besides Riyo - haven’t seen under his gloves yet. They don’t know about his life on the Sphere, besides the few sporadic things he’s told them, and they don’t know why everyone hated him. Should hated him.
But they know a little. And maybe, if this request ends up bad, maybe Enjin or Gris could…
What.
Protect him? Stand up for him?
No.
Stupid thoughts. Real, real stupid thoughts. If this ends up bad, Rudo is just gonna have to deal like always.
He stares up at the door again, at the colors and signs bursting across it in colorful arcs of personality and cheer. Music echoes beneath the solid structure like a heart beat, vibrating under Rudo’s shoes and up through his bones.
With a final, deep breath of courage, Rudo raises his hand to knock.
Knock.
Knock.
WOOOOSH!
“WHAT’S UP MY MAIN MAN RUDO?!?!”
-
August loves working for the Cleaners. He can spazz out as much as he wants, blast as much music as he wants, be as loud as he wants, take as much time as he wants, and these folk don’t give a flying fuck. As long as you don’t mess with their people or their vital instruments, they respect you.
The Cleaners are legends, besides. Not your every day man can go against the horrors of the world and come up swinging, and that was the exact courage Eishey needed - which was exactly why they came here. Now his sister gets to use her vital instrument - and August gets to work with legends!
Give them flare! Passion! Cool fits, that reflect the awesome work they do - makin’ em into realllll legends.
He’s got a project now though - rumors of the Doll Festival are erupting all across the ground, and August has got some work to do! Best jammin’ music on, blasting tunes and hot beats and inspo and -
Knock.
Knock.
In seconds, August is ripping the door open with a woosh, stance wide, presence big, bout to yell at whoever interrupting his groove but -
Before him stands Rudo. Swallowed up by a large hoodie, hair messy, red eyes wide and alarmed, and gloved hands holding a bundle of fabric close to his chest.
August switches tracks immediately, bending down and pushing down his glasses to look into Rudo’s eyes with unblocked sight, before he opens his mouth and shouts -
“WHAT’S UP MY MAIN MAN RUDO?!?!”
Rudo takes another step back, clearly alarmed, but eh. That’s most people around August - most non-cleaner and non-family.
Rudo is still getting used to the groove. August tries not to let his soft spot for the kid show too much, but he reminds him of Eishia sometimes. Unsure and quiet, even with all the people that care around him. August likes legends, and Rudo reminds him of one. A wolf, one of the ones that used to run wild amongst the ground, before they went extinct and fell prey to the trash beasts - terrifying and unbeatable, and always with a pack behind them. Rudo hasn’t gotten that bit yet, but August is trying to imbue that in him - one wolf themed piece at a time.
“Um. Yeah.” Rudo begins to stammer. “Hey August I uh — “ He shifts the bundle of fabric in his hands.
“YOU GOT CLOTHES FOR ME MAN?! COME ON IN!” And with a step back, August ushers Rudo into his workshop.
His workshop is one of his favorite places in HQ. Last time, when he was picking up his full-face, Rudo had looked around with awe, eyes snagging on the recycled fabric bins, the projects on every table, the piles of tools and materials… It had been a place, August knows, that Rudo was going to feel more at home in.
“Yeah uh… It’s about my Cleaner’s uniform.” Rudo hands the bundle of fabric to August, who quickly unfolds it with a snap and lays it across the single empty table in the room. On the table is the black undershirt that August had made for the base of his uniform. A black fabric, form fitting, made to add to Rudo’s silhouette and make those blocks of shape and accentuate the hair and the gloves and the eyes - a good design choice, August had thought.
Now, its clear something is up. There’s no rips or tears, thanks to the sturdy fabric the shirt is made with, so why would Rudo be bringing it in.
August turns and raised an eyebrow. “Something wrong? Need more?” Maybe a size up? The kid was fuckin’ skinny, but he knew Eishia was trying to encourage a meal plan of some sort. Maybe he finally put on some more weight?
Rudo shakes his head. “No. It fits good. I just - uh - It’s kind of hard to explain.” Red eyes trail to his gloves as he shifts from foot to foot. “You know my gloves?”
“Course! Sick fit you -”
“I can’t get the sleeves over my gloves.”
August blinks. Of all the complaints, that was not it. Is there more to it? August doesn’t want to be a dick, but can Rudo really not part with his instrument on his hands for more than a second? Even Dear took out his pacifier to eat, and Eishia never left hers on her neck while sleeping.
Rudo stares up at him before elaborating, eyes going back down to his hands. He looks more like a kicked puppy than ever, rather than the teenage firecracker August knows he can be. August is patient though. Sometimes Eishia just needed someone to wait for her to speak on her own terms, before she could say what she wanted to say.
Rudo takes a breath, and goes on, words spilling out of him fast and furious. “My gloves are my vital instrument because they’re the only thing that stops the pain in my hands. Sometimes I can take them off to put on the shirt without them hurting, but after missions when I’m fighting with them, it hurts a lot. And then it sucks when I have to take off the shirt - or work with the zippers - or anything else and I - just - could you…”
And something in August sinks.
Colloso is a brand made to bring out the best in people. To make them larger than life, legends in their own right, a tall figure that casts shadows on all the beasts that the cleaners claim to destroy. Each outfit is tailored to an individual own style and August’s own tastes. Enjin, loose clothing with the careful peak of skin to show of his artful tattoos, but a large over-sized jacket filled with pockets - for cigs, sweets for the kiddies, bandages… you name it. Gave him that mysterious look with a peak of something interesting. Riyo, tight then loose, with plenty of fabric around her legs and arms for her to loop her scissors through and around without causing fabric burn, and just enough in her jacket to hide her… other weapons. Delmon, with the comfort of his farmers clothing, Dear, loose and comfy fits, Zanka, in the clear distinct style of his hometown… all catered to their needs and style.
August had thought he got Rudo pretty good. A hood, reminiscent of his original Spherite clothing, red and blacks to get that sharp contrast for that teenage angst he practically radiated off, big pockets to store little trinkets, and just enough contrast in fabric shape size to turn the tiny little pup into a big bad wolf when the full-face went on. He had thought that he had considered everything - pockets for trash, a silhouette that could let him puff up the way he wanted to, something that was bright and fierce and determined… but he missed this. This crucial aspect of Rudo’s care.
You can’t make a fit for someone that’s gonna hurt ‘em. Thats a 10/10 NO GO. That’s just cruel. And August did. And it’s been a month since Rudo crashed with ‘em.
Time to get to cleanin’ up this mess.
“I GOTCHU LITTLE MAN!” August yells, before looking at the fabric with a renewed interest.”I CAN WHIP SOMETHING UP NO ISSUE!!!” But what? Zippers - no go. Rudo mentioned that they didn’t help - he could change the design, remove the sleeves entirely - no. Rudo likes rootin’ around in trash too much - he needs somethin’ on his arms to protect ‘em, otherwise his team would throw a mother-henning fit with all the scratches the trash would cause - has he even gotten his shots?! Something to tell Eishia about. August starts humming, examining the fabric from all sides. A button would be the same issue, Rudo could have a tool for that, but the compression tightness wouldn’t be the same unless the number buttons was increased… but -
August eyes light up. Compression.
“Say Rudo…” He turns to the fabric bin next to him. “What helps with the pain, besides your gloves?”
Rudo twitches like a nervous kitten beside him, before speaking up. “Uh.. Warm towels, sometimes. Regto…” Who is Regto? Who… was Regto? “He would bandage up my arms pretty tight, but that’d be it. We didn’t… I never… had a lot of stuff that really helped, besides 3R.”
August doesn’t fight the frown on his face. “You talk to Eishia or Granny ‘bout that shit?! There’s way more than can help with chronic pain - painkillers, heating pads, exercises n’shit…”
Rudo’s are way too wide. Fuck, man, that’s just sad.
“And compression gloves.” With a flourish he places two long, black sleeves in Rudo’s hands. Fingerless compression sleeves, connecting from just above the knuckles and ending a hand’s length above the elbow. A past experiment, but on that should fit Rudo. He also hands him a sleeveless shirt - a matching black to the one on the table, but with open spaces for the arms that would be big enough for Rudo’s gloves to fit through. The combination would keep the current silhouette, while still being adapted for Rudo’s needs. “According to Eishia, these can help with joint pain and other not-good feelings like that… These you can keep on as long as you want, takin’ them off when you take off your gloves. You can wear them with your non-cleaner fits. And the shirt can go on over your gloves, without you havin’ to change any shit out. Do you think that would work with ya?”
Rudo stares at the gloves like they’re something precious. It’s a look August has seen on him whenever he brings back some lost object or piece of trash, in the few times Rudo has done so in August’s sight. He cares for things, cares for objects, cares for purpose - something August can relate to. Clothes are objects after all, with everyday purposes.
Rudo’s eyes shift from the gloves to August and back down again. With hesitant movements, Rudo pulls off his over sized hoodie, revealing a simple tank top, and bandages that stretch from the ends of his gloves up to nearly his elbow. He pulls off the glove, revealing bandage wrapped fingers dotted with red, and tucks it under his arm with care, before pulling on the black compression sleeve. It goes on smooth, just enough give to cover the bandages, but snug on his upper body. He flexes his fingers, eyes widening, before doing the same for his other arm, leaving 3R on the table as he does so. August doesn’t rush him, or interrupt. Just watches, a small bundle of pride slowly growing in his chest.
“It… it helps. Not as much as 3R but - “ Rudo’s mumbled words, halt at a twitch of his fingers, and he not-quiet rushes to put his gloves back on. “But they help. A lot.”
“Good.” August nods happily, handing him the blank compression tank and going to move the old shirt to the fabrics bin to be reused. “Clothes are for YOUR benefit, little man! Not anyone else. You got any other clothes to be adjusted, you just let Auggie know!” August straightens and hooks a thumb at himself, standing tall and exaggerated and proud. “I’m happy to change it up to make you sicker than ever!”
Rudo gives him…. Well its not a smile. But its an earnest, happy look all the same. “Thank you August. I will.” August doesn’t know if he actually will. It was surprise Rudo - who August knows rarely asks for much, even if all it is is sweets and trash - came to August at all with his request. Eishia will be happy, when August tells her, that Rudo is taking care of himself.
Rudo turns on his heel to go, but August catches him on the shoulder before he can get out of the room, spinning the kid to look at him. “And Rudo - if you need anything else that’ll help you out… let us know. Doesn’t have to be me, doesn’t have to be clothes. We wanna help ya, and we don’t want you in pain. You dig me?”
Rudo stares up at him with big round eyes, a small tremble in his lips. When he nods, its with a small bit of warmth in his eyes that August wants there always. “I dig.”
“GOOD!” August stands back up, and reaches back to his radio. “NOW I GOT DOLL FESTIVAL FITS TO MAKE - AND A GREAT IDEA FOR YOURS! SO I GOTTA JAM OUT!” August flips the volume up, and waves to Rudo as he makes his mistake, dashing down the hallway. The sweet, sick tunes of Too Lily echo his escape, and follow August back to his designing table.
The original sketches he had for Rudo’s costume… they gotta go. Looser sleeves, less buttons and zippers, more open flare, and … August eyes catch on a piece in the corner, an old costume he hadn’t planned on using at all.
Now that… that piece will fit a little legend in the making - a wolf who is slowly growing comfortable in his own pack. August gives a wild grin and cackle, and gets to work.
(Days later, when he finally emerges from the den of clothes and fabric and stitches he created, Doll Festival fits finished and ready for modeling, he can’t help but notice subtle changes. Door knobs to common spaces changed from knobs to handles. Rudo’s favored mugs moved from the high cabinets to resting in a specified spot on the counter. Thicker, wider utensils in the kitchen drawer. Heat packs, missing from their usual spot in the infirmary when he visits Eishia. And Rudo, walking around in compression sleeves and loose tee, less tension in his shoulders even as he trades barbs with Zanka. Things are changing for Rudo - for the better.
Hell yeah, August thinks, going to ruffle Rudo’s hair, hell yeah.)