Saturday Night Fic - Still Waters Chapter 3
This week's writing time has been somewhat disrupted by four very tiny baby bunnies and two honey bee stings! I get a delayed flu-type reaction to honey bees for some reason, so spent most of Thursday shivering and huddled under a bunch of blankets in the middle of August, with a left hand that looked like an inflated rubber glove. Got stung again on Friday, but managed to stave off the worst of the reaction with copious dosing of Benadryl and Ibuprofen - I've been achy and tired today, and kind of spaced out from the Benadryl, but otherwise functional. So, fairly sizable chapter here, but much less editing and poking than I had planned to do - I'm going to go ahead and post it though, and maybe edit it more later :)
Title: Still Waters (3/?)
Characters: Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, First Aid, Ratchet, Ironhide
Universe: Protectobot Beginnings AU
Rating: K+
Word Count: 6976
Warnings: fairly graphic description of injury and recovery, angst
Summary: Sideswipe and First Aid both get kicked out, and the twins learn some new cuddling skills.
Ratchet declared Sideswipe fit to leave after another cycle, giving him a cube of medical-grade energon to drink first with orders to follow up with a second cube of regular energon once he got to his quarters. Other than that, Ratchet had barely even talked to him, all of his attention focused on First Aid, who had taken a turn for the worse. The junior medic had been overheating, babbling deliriously again when he was awake and worrying almost continuously about Sideswipe’s optics. He was wracked by periodic coughing fits as his vents stuttered and his engine made painful grinding sounds.
Ratchet had finally taken to gathering First Aid, wires and monitoring equipment and all, up in his arms, sitting on the berth with him to try to keep him calm. First Aid would tolerate it for awhile, but even though his face mask was back up again, Sideswipe could see the discontented frown of his optic ridges. “We still need you here, Aid,” Sideswipe heard Ratchet murmur. “Stay with us. Hang in there.”
First Aid, who had been slipping into recharge again, was suddenly taken by another coughing fit that brought up pieces of dried energon from his vents. “Ugh,” First Aid gasped when it was over. “Interesting,” he said, speaking soft but distinctly for a moment. “So that’s what it feels like to do that.”
Ratchet chuckled despite his increasing worry as he gently suctioned out Aid’s vents. “Only you would turn this into an educational experience.” First Aid murmured something unintelligible, but sounding suspiciously like “Sideswipe” and “optics” and then thankfully slipped back into his restless recharge. Ironhide stopped by with more energon, and after a brief nod of greeting to Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, passed a cube to Ratchet and took Ratchet’s place on the berth, carefully gathering First Aid against his armor. First Aid shifted restlessly away from Ironhide and then dropped his helm against the larger mech’s chestplates, recharge winning out for the moment.
“He fights it, doesn’t he,” Ironhide said, wrapping one arm around First Aid cautiously, protectively. Ratchet nodded, rubbing tiredly at his optics.
“Our energy fields are not the best substitutes, but his systems do respond to the contact, at least a little. But yes. He’s fighting it.”
Sideswipe quietly slid off the berth and left the medbay with Sunstreaker’s help without saying goodbye, guiltily relieved to be away. The look in Ratchet’s optics was tearing at his spark. If the First Aid was going to kick the ion bucket it seemed to Sideswipe that he should be there somehow, in some way he couldn’t quite explain to himself. Even if Ratchet said it wasn’t his fault, he should be there to…bear witness, or something. Sideswipe snorted. He’d just be in the way. Ratchet would never notice.
//Primus, Sideswipe. Why don’t you just go kiss him or something// Sunstreaker had evidently gotten fed up with his brother’s maunderings.
//No way!// Sideswipe retorted. He didn’t want to kiss Ratchet. Even if Ratchet did have very nice lips. Not as nice as Sunstreaker’s though. Sideswipe grinned as he felt Sunstreaker preening a little through the bond. And Ratchet wasn’t nearly as shiny, and even though white-and-red was a nice color combination, yellow was really the only way to go, and…
Sunstreaker, sensing when his brother crossed the fine line between admiring to laughing at him, growled and shoved. Sideswipe stumbled against the wall of the corridor and promptly lost his balance, falling over into a heap.
“Ow,” he moaned, as he gingerly tried to roll over without putting strain on his still-healing leg. “What was that for?” he said reproachfully.
General principle,” Sunstreaker said succinctly, but Sideswipe caught the brief touch of remorse through their bond as Sunstreaker leaned over to give him a hand up. He’d been annoyed, but hadn’t meant to push him quite so hard. “So what do you think?”
“Huh?” Sideswipe asked, puzzled by the non sequitur, but familiar with Sunstreaker’s assumption that everyone knew what he was thinking about. And often Sideswipe did know, but right now Sunstreaker’s thoughts were elusive.
“That guy,” Sunstreaker said more emphatically. “You know.”
Sideswipe gave his brother a shove. //I don’t know, idiot. Who do you think I am, your twin or something?//
Sunstreaker shoved back, with only token force this time. //Don’t call me idiot. Idiot//
Sideswipe pummeled back through their bond until Sunstreaker relented and gave up an image of a small white-and-red medic lying on a berth. //Do you think he’ll deactivate?//
“First Aid? Why didn’t you just say so, dummy.”
“I did say so.”
Sideswipe flickered his optics and gave up. “He didn’t look real good, bro.” Sideswipe had to stop and steady his vocalizer, and Sunstreaker gave him an odd look. What was the matter with him? Going soft over a boring little medbay assistant. Ratchet’s favorite special one. That he’d probably deactivated. Wasn’t the first friend they’d deactivated, the thought floated between them, and Sideswipe wasn’t sure if it was his or Sunstreaker's.
“Great. That makes me feel better,” Sideswipe said aloud. They had reached their quarters. Sideswipe limped over to his berth and flopped down on the edge. Sunstreaker shrugged, but came over and sat next to him. Sideswipe couldn’t quite catch his twin’s emotions, still elusive, as they often were when it was anything besides anger or the fierceness of battle. Some sympathy, for him, dark memories that Sunstreaker wouldn’t let him catch, tucking them deep away when he noticed Sideswipe noticing. Sideswipe didn’t pursue them; he’d tried that before.
“I’ll get you some energon,” Sunstreaker said, after awhile, with the air of someone making a great decision.
“You’re too kind,” Sideswipe said grandly.
“Why yes I am,” Sunstreaker shoved his brother on the shoulder, not too hard, as he got up, a quick grin flashing across his face, there and gone again like a lightning flash. Sideswipe tried to shove back but Sunstreaker was already heading for the door. He was smiling helplessly, as he couldn’t help but do when Sunstreaker looked at him like that. His smile faded though, as he remembered what he’d been trying to forget. Stupid little medic, getting himself hurt. His head hurt. Sideswipe curled up in a ball and waited for Sunstreaker to return with the energon.
Sideswipe avoided the medbay for the next orn. His leg was healing fine, and Jazz had scheduled him back on light duty, but the headaches were starting to get annoying. He should have gone back to Ratchet right away, but he was afraid to return and discover that First Aid had deactivated, and then he had waited so long that he feared Ratchet’s wrath from admitting how long he had waited. Sunstreaker finally threatened to make his head really hurt, which degenerated into an out-and-out tussling match which only ended when Sideswipe smacked his head against a wall and nearly purged. Sunstreaker moved a prudent step back, and then, once Sideswipe got his tank under control, dragged him to the door, pushed him out in the hallway, and shut and locked it behind him.
Sideswipe looked at the door forlornly for a moment, and then, as his head gave another sharp throb, at last made his way back to the medbay. When he got there he was surprised to see First Aid, apparently upright and functional, standing forlornly outside the closed door of the medbay, much as Sideswipe had been doing at his own door a few moments ago.
“Hey! You’re alive!” Sideswipe said in surprise, deeply relieved.
“Yes, I am,” First Aid nodded. From anyone else, Sideswipe might have suspected sarcasm, but First Aid answered Sideswipe’s statement of the obvious with full and sincere solemnity.
“What are you doing out here?”
“Ratchet kicked me out.” Aid’s soft voice had the static raspy sound of someone only running at part strength, and he wobbled a little where he stood.
“Kicked you out?” Sideswipe repeated. He’d thought First Aid pretty much lived in the medbay. Aside from planetside missions he’d never seen First Aid anywhere else, other than the odd time or two in the hallways of the Ark, and it seemed strange that Ratchet would just kick out a patient that was so obviously far from fully recovered. Sideswipe maybe, if he’d been annoying enough, but not his favorite little assistant that he’d been hovering over like an anxious creator for nearly two orns.
“I was just trying to clean the ceiling,” First Aid said, in a slightly defensive tone of voice. “It’s filthy. I don’t think it’s been cleaned since the Ark was first commissioned.”
Ah yes. Sideswipe had memorized every single stain and dent on that slagging thing, himself.
“I know just what you mean,” he agreed. First Aid looked back at the medbay door again, seemingly at a loss.
“What are you going to do now?” Sideswipe asked.
First Aid’s visor brightened briefly. “I don’t really know,” he said, with something that might have been a laugh if it were louder. “Maybe walk around? I’m supposed to walk a little bit, Ratchet said.”
Privately Sideswipe thought he looked like a good breeze would tip him over, as he watched the medic list to the left a little, and then back to the right before he centered himself again. Sideswipe sighed to himself reluctantly, but there was no way he was going to let First Aid roam around in this state, and he still couldn’t believe Ratchet had let his precious assistant out in this condition in the first place.
“Here, I’ll walk you to your quarters, how’s that,” he offered. Sideswipe could see First Aid’s optic shutters blink in surprise behind his visor. “You do have quarters, don’t you?”
”Um…” First Aid rubbed at his helm a little in thought. “They assigned me some when we first boarded the Ark. I think I remember where they are.”
Sideswipe shook his head. Poor mech was still so addled he couldn’t remember where he lived.
“All right, well show me the way. Least I can do is make sure you get there in one piece.”
“Thank you, Sideswipe,” First Aid said, visor glowing a deeper blue. “That’s very thoughtful of you.” First Aid took an unsteady step, putting his hand on the wall for balance. Sideswipe shifted uncomfortably for a moment, but he couldn’t exactly let the guy stagger all the way to his quarters. He moved to First Aid’s other side and gingerly hooked a hand under the medic’s arm to help him along. Sideswipe had to brace himself a little; First Aid was heavier than he’d anticipated as the medic leaned trustingly on his arm.
Ironhide appeared from around an intersecting corridor ahead of them, optic ridges rising in surprise when he saw First Aid clinging to Sideswipe’s arm as they made their slow, careful way down the corridor. Sideswipe looked at Ironhide with an expression that was not exactly desperate, but clearly conveyed his relief at seeing the burly weapon's master, and, thank Primus, he could pass the injured medic on to someone else. Ironhide’s mouthplates quirked suddenly, as if he was suppressing a smile.
“Look at you, up and walking around,” Ironhide said, and he did smile this time, looking at First Aid fondly. “So ol’ Ratch kicked you out, huh?”
“I guess I’m not a very good patient,” First Aid said ruefully, pausing to rest, leaning heavily on Sideswipe and cycling air deeply through his vents.
“Aw, you weren’t so bad, kid. Just kinda out of it for awhile,” Ironhide reassured him.
“Thank you for helping take care of me. I don’t remember a lot, but Ratchet said you were there.”
Ironhide chuckled. “And how many times have you stayed with me after helping patch my sorry aft back together? Ratchet sent me to keep an optic on ya and make sure you don’t try to go around giving everyone maintenance checks or vacuum the hallways or anything, but it looks like you’re in good hands already.”
Sideswipe widened his optics in alarm, but Ironhide only smirked. Probably thinking it would be another one of those ‘character building experiences’ he was so fond of, the sadistic fragger.
“Let me double check with the boss, first,” Ironhide told them, activating his comm. Shortly after, Sideswipe was contacted by Ratchet, who proceeded to grill him on where he was taking First Aid and promises of dire fates if he were to be stupid enough to allow any sort of additional damage to the injured junior medic, followed by an insanely detailed list of everything First Aid was and was not allowed to do while he was out of Ratchet’s direct supervision.
First Aid evidently wasn’t privy to any of it, watching Sideswipe’s dazed expression curiously.
“Ok then?” Ironhide asked cheerfully, patting Sideswipe on the shoulder. “Don’t look so terrified, soldier,” he murmured in Sideswipe’s audio. “After a vorn wrestling some kind of sense into you and yer brother I think I know ya pretty well. There’s a solid spark under all your nonsense. You can handle him." Ironhide straightened and gave First Aid a wink. “Take it easy, kid. Glad yer feelin’ better.” Ironhide continued on his way and Sideswipe stood blinking for a moment, processing Ironhide’s rare -- praise? He supposed that counted as praise -- while First Aid waited patiently.
“All right, so how far to your quarters?” Sideswipe asked finally, with a resigned but resolute sigh, and they made their way back down the corridor at First Aid’s slow, careful pace.
“How’s your leg,” First Aid asked, glancing over at Sideswipe and watching for limping.
“Huh uh, no way,” Sideswipe said, waving his free hand defensively. “Ratchet said absolutely no repairing or he’d come and vacuum my processor out through my noseplates.”
“He did?” First Aid said, sounding surprised.
“Yeah he did. So do me a favor and don’t fall over, or bump into something, or Primus forbid, try to fix anything, ok?”
First Aid nodded. “For your continued health then,” he said. “I’ll try to behave myself.” Sideswipe couldn’t be sure but he thought First Aid sounded amused. They took a few more steps and First Aid stopped at the next door.
“This it?” Sideswipe said in relief. That was easy enough.
“I guess so,” First Aid said, transmitting his security code to the door. It slid open smoothly and First Aid walked hesitantly inside. Sideswipe looked around in confusion.
“These are your quarters? There’s nothing in here!” Nothing but a berth in the corner and an empty workstation in the other. Quarters on the Ark were, by necessity, quite small, but most ‘bots managed to stuff in an assortment of personal detritus, entertainment, holo vids, mementos and image captures. Sideswipe would have expected to find a few data pads scattered around, at the very least. First Aid was always reading them in the medbay.
“You really DO live in the medbay, don’t you.” Sideswipe looked at First Aid in amazement. First Aid sat on the berth, looking very small and alone.
“Thanks, Sideswipe, for making sure I got here ok,” First Aid said softly. Sideswipe stared at him for a moment uncertainly. On the one hand, he was relieved to get his First Aid guardian ‘bot duties over so painlessly, on the other hand…slaggit. There was no way he could just leave First Aid sitting alone in an empty room like this. Curse it all to Pit. When did he develop a case of soft spark? Sunstreaker was going to think he’d lost his processor. And he’d only be proving Ironhide right of all the annoying things.
“Come on,” he sighed. First Aid made a puzzled noise.
“Come on,” Sideswipe repeated. “You’re coming with me. At least we’ve got a holo vid in my quarters.”
First Aid tilted his helm, but got up again, carefully, with a small involuntary gasp through his intakes. Sideswipe reached out a hand, but First Aid waved it away.
“Thanks, but...I think...I’m ok.”
Sideswipe wondered if this was a good idea. At least his and Sunny’s quarters weren’t too far away, otherwise he’d probably be carrying the medic over his shoulder or something. Not an appealing thought, with his head still throbbing like Pit. Somehow his original mission to get that looked at had been completely sidetracked. He looked at First Aid consideringly, but decided not to risk Ratchet’s threats. Absolutely no fixing.
He’d forgotten that Sunstreaker locked him out. Sideswipe gave First Aid an apologetic look as he pounded on the door and yelled for Sunny to just open the fraggin’ door. Sunstreaker took his own sweet time, but finally the door slid open.
//What the Pit, bro?// Sunstreaker asked in amazement as Sideswipe entered, trailed by the little red-and-white medic. //Ratchet doesn’t trust you alone away from the medbay so he sent you with a sparkling-sitter?//
Sideswipe rolled his optics. //Other way around. He kicked First Aid out and I got stuck making sure he doesn’t strain a servo or any other slag//
//That guy. He didn’t deactivate then//
//Obviously not// Sideswipe sent, with a mental snort. Sunstreaker wasn’t stupid, far from it, but sometimes he was a little unobservant when it came to other ‘bots. First Aid was peering curiously around, one hand on the doorframe for support. His vents sounded funny, whirring with an unhealthy sound, and Sideswipe waved him to his berth before he fell down. First Aid wobbled as he made his way over, accidentally kicking a table leg as he tried to catch his balance.
“Sorry,” he murmured, patting the table sympathetically.
Sideswipe paused his sudden motion forward to keep the medic from taking a nosedive when it appeared First Aid was going to make it to the berth safely on his own.
“Sorry? Aid…that’s a table.” First Aid looked up at him from where he’d lowered himself to Sideswipe’s berth and nodded.
“You just apologized to a table.”
“I know,” First Aid said, not seeming to see anything unusual.
“It…can’t feel anything, you know that.”
“I know, Sideswipe,” First Aid said, with that note in his voice that hinted he might be smiling. “That’s no cause to be rude though.”
Weird. Sweet Primus, First Aid was a weird ‘bot. And what the slag was he supposed to do with him now that he was here? Sideswipe rubbed at his helm, the headache intensifying with a vengeance. He could tell Sunstreaker was glaring at him from behind his back for not getting that looked at like he was supposed to. First Aid was looking at him too, optics worried behind the visor.
“Sideswipe…are you ok?” he asked. “I can go back to the medbay if you’re busy. It’s all right, really. I can protect you from Ratchet.” The last was said with the tiniest hint of teasing, so subtle Sideswipe almost thought he was imagining it.
“No, no, it’s not you. Just this slagging headache won’t go away.” Too late Sideswipe remembered exactly who he was talking to. First Aid was up before he could blink his optic shutters, urging him to sit on the berth with gentle hands. The medic peered into his optics and then ran a hand over his helm. Sideswipe could feel the gentle buzz of a scanner, like tiny vibrations through his processor. It eased the pain for a moment, but he winced as the scan stopped and the pain returned.
“How are your optics feeling? Any pain?” First Aid tilted Sideswipe’s head up so he could see better.
Sideswipe just looked at him. “Not this again,” he muttered.
“What?” First Aid asked, puzzled, hands pausing in their perusal of Sideswipe’s face and helm.
“Oh, I don’t know, it’s only like the millionth time you’ve asked me that.”
First Aid made another puzzled noise.
“When we were in the medbay. After you were hurt. You wouldn’t stop worrying about my optics.”
“I’m sorry, Sideswipe. I guess I can get a little…fixated on things sometimes. I must have been processor looping.”
Sideswipe was starting to feel guilty about complaining about it. First Aid had been delirious after all, and he was just trying to do his job.
“I’m afraid this time it might really be the optics causing your headaches. Sometimes the damage from a photon blast doesn’t manifest until much later. Here…” First Aid shuttered his own optics and with a small flick of his head his visor snicked up to the top of his head. He reached up and detached it, holding it out to Sideswipe with his optics still shuttered.
“Put this on for a moment and see if it helps.”
Sideswipe did so, awkwardly sliding the visor over his face. It was a little loose, he noticed. Huh, he’d never have guessed First Aid had the bigger head. The light shielding on the visor caused everything to go darker around him, but the relief was almost immediate.
“Hey, my head feels better!” he exclaimed, tilting his head this way and that to test it out.
First Aid nodded. “I’ll make you a therapeutic light shield when I get back to the medbay. Dim the lights in here for now and that should help temporarily, but you’ll need the light shield, too, and probably a few mag-wave treatments as well to make sure the damage reverses itself. It’s usually not permanent as long as you get treatment.”
Sunstreaker dimmed the lights to their lowest level, and Sideswipe handed the visor back. First Aid placed it back on his helm and flicked it back in place, where it brightened to its usual blue glow as he opened his optics again.
“That what happened to you?” Sideswipe asked curiously. “Photon blast?” Mechs could have visors for a variety of purposes, but from the way First Aid kept his optics so tightly shuttered without it, his visor was probably not an optional accessory.
“Mmm, no.” First Aid shook his head. “Disrupter cannon. Point blank hit, wiped out most of my sensory network for awhile.”
Sunstreaker made a surprised sound, and Sideswipe echoed it. A point blank blast from a disrupter cannon usually left a pile of smoking scrap metal. That must be what Ratchet had meant about First Aid being tougher than he looked.
“How the pit did you survive that one?” Sideswipe asked.
“I wasn’t just me,” First Aid said, sitting back down on the berth. “The blast was dissipated quite a bit since we were...I was…my….” First Aid paused for a moment, seeming to lose track of what he was saying, optic ridges furrowed. Sideswipe wondered if it was a symptom of his injuries. Maybe he should call Ratchet? “My b-brothers absorbed a lot of the blast energy, too.”
“Brothers? As in plural?” Sunstreaker asked. Spark-twins like themselves were extremely rare, brothers from the same Vector Sigma creator-set were less rare, but still unusual, and bond-brothers were usually two, or more rarely three. Sideswipe had never met anyone with more than one sibling.
“Four,” First Aid said, with a short laugh that sounded like it had been surprised out of him.
Four? Sideswipe almost scoffed in disbelief. No one had four brothers.
“Where are they then?” Sunstreaker was asking. Sideswipe felt Sunstreaker’s skepticism through the bond.
First Aid shook his helm and drew a raspy vent through his intakes. “I...think...I don’t really...I...lost them,” First Aid got it out at last. One hand was tightly clasping the other in his lap, as if for comfort.
“Lost…” Sunstreaker repeated. A sharp pang of understanding echoed between them. Everyone had lost someone, many someones, in this war, but to lose a brother, four brothers, no one had four brothers, except a gestalt maybe, and Aid certainly wasn’t an Aerialbot, and the only other gestalts were Decepticons or …something clicked in Sideswipe’s processor.
“Defensor. You were part of Defensor,” Sideswipe said slowly, barely able to believe it, but nothing else made sense. First Aid looked up sharply at the name. Five Protectobot brothers. All search and rescue, one had been a medic. Defensor’s components had been deactivated, tragically lost, several vorns back at the end of the Cybonic plague; it had been a great blow to the Autobots, and with the Allspark hidden away no new gestalt had been built to replace him. Only not all of the Protectobots had been lost, apparently. One had survived, though all the legends Sideswipe knew about gestalts said that that was impossible.
“Defensor,” First Aid said, softly, and again, like he was reminding himself. “Defensor.”
“I met you before! Or Defensor, anyway, once.” Sideswipe blinked his optic shutters in surprise at the realization.
First Aid looked up at him, nodding. “We’ve met a few times, actually.” His optics were bright behind the visor in the dimmed lighting of their quarters. “You remember that?”
“Yes,” he said. Defensor had taken the roof from his prison, brought light to the darkness, pulled the walls apart until he could find Sunstreaker again. Four vorns ago? Five? It was tangled in his memory banks with the darkness before and after, but he remembered the concern and kindness in Defensor’s great optics. A trap, he had thought at the time. There was no way it could be trusted, nothing like that could be trusted, and if it were true it would be wrong to reach for it with all the confused darkness in his spark and so he had run, with Sunny. Looking at First Aid now, recognizing echoes of that concern and kindness in the focus of his gaze, Sideswipe was fairly certain that had been a mistake. They should have stayed.
“Defensor,” Sunstreaker muttered, looking at the unimposing medic sitting on Sideswipe’s berth. “They sing songs about Defensor.”
First Aid tilted his helm in Sunstreaker’s direction. “Songs?” He laughed a little incredulously. “They do?”
“Yeah, and Sideswipe can sing them all for you.” Both of their minds were veering away from something they didn’t want to contemplate, not for long. Brothers, lost. Sunstreaker took out his uneasiness by elbowing his brother hard in the side, and Sideswipe grabbed Sunny’s arm and twisted it behind him. Sunstreaker retaliated by sweeping his leg under Sideswipe’s and toppling them both to the floor, pinning Sideswipe beneath him and growling a soft crooning warning in his audio. First Aid watched all of this with no sign of alarm, visor still glowing bright, pulling up his legs onto the berth to avoid the flailing limbs and peering over the side at Sideswipe’s contorted face as he squirmed on the floor beneath Sunstreaker.
Sunstreaker followed Sideswipe’s gaze, craning his neck up to fix his hot glare on the medic. “Do you ever take that face mask off?” he asked, grunting a little as Sideswipe shoved against him.
First Aid shook his helm. “It’s attached,” he said, apparently seeing nothing strange in the question, “but I can retract it.” He demonstrated, revealing his pleasant, unremarkable face with a small hint of a smile curving the ends of his lip components.
“Not hideous,” was Sunstreaker’s verdict. “Why do you keep it closed all the time?” Sideswipe raised an optic ridge; Sunstreaker, trying to make conversation? Expressing interest, by choice, to another mechanism that wasn’t trying to kill him. It was kind of weird.
First Aid shrugged. “I didn’t always, but...after, I would smile and no one understood, and…” First Aid’s visor flickered and his optic shutters blinked rapidly for a moment. He shook his helm again and sighed, and found a small smile for Sunstreaker. Sideswipe didn’t see anything about it that would require it to be hidden. “You remind me of Slingshot, a little,” First Aid said, the smile curving wider. “And Air Raid, and Fireflight, and even Skydive and Silverbolt sometimes. They always wrestle around like that.”
Aerialbots! Sideswipe thought with a thrill. Of course. He had been part of Defensor, of course First Aid knew the Aerialbots. Pit, he’d probably sparred with Superion! Sideswipe wriggled, though he could feel Sunstreaker laughing at him. Sunstreaker had never understood his brother’s fascination with jets, seekers or otherwise. They were just so…fast! And shiny. They made Sideswipe want to fly, too.
//I should have been a jet// he told Sunstreaker.
//You should have been an exhaust pipe// Sunstreaker jibed back. //No wonder he’s so…the way he is, when there’s fighting, if he’s used to being Defensor// Totally oblivious, Sunstreaker meant. If there was a patient to be tended, it didn’t matter what was in the way, First Aid generally found a way to get there. They provided cover when they could, at first under Ironhide’s direction, but now they’d gotten in the habit of keeping an optic out for a white form moving right through the thick of things. It was just a sort of automatic response. Sideswipe hardly noticed he was doing it anymore.
Primus, that meant First Aid was also…what…not even eleven vorns old? Defensor, the Protectobots, had been tragically, appallingly young at their deactivation, only sparklings. It was in all the songs. He and Sunstreaker were still considered barely adults at eight hundred some vorns, but even the Aerialbots would be celebrating their two hundredth sparkday soon.
//You keep track of their ages?// Sunstreaker marveled.
//What?// Sideswipe sent, defensive.
//Nothing…I’m just saying, you pay an awful lot of attention to those guys//
//I do not//
//Maybe someday you’ll meet your heroes, bro, don’t worry//
//They’re NOT my heroes// Sideswipe growled. Sunstreaker sent a wordless wave of amused disbelief in his direction.
Sideswipe glanced up to see if First Aid was still watching them, but the medic had dropped his head against his knees.
“Aid? You ok?” he asked.
“Yeah, just a little tired.” First Aid lifted his head again and gave him that same small smile. There was nothing sad about it, but for some reason it sent a pang through Sideswipe’s spark. Poor kid had to feel like slag, Sideswipe was pretty certain. It was only an orn ago he’d been delirious in Ratchet’s arms and hooked up to every possible monitor and machine in the medbay. His visor looked dimmer than before. Ratchet had a remote monitor on him, so he would know if First Aid was about to keel over, but still...
“You can lay down,” Sideswipe told him, as he pushed Sunstreaker off and scrambled to his feet. Sunstreaker didn’t protest.
“I’m ok,” First Aid said. “It feels good to sit up for a change.” He let his head drop back down to his knees again. “Thank you for looking after me,” he added, voice muffled. “You can do whatever you were doing. I’ll be fine here for awhile and then maybe Ratchet will let me back in the medbay, if I promise not to clean anything.” First Aid’s face appeared again for a moment as he looked up, his smile sweet and slightly wry this time.
“Ok,” Sideswipe said. He stood looking at the medic, sitting curled up in a ball on his berth.
“I’m sorry, about your brothers,” he said after awhile, his processor finally circling back to what it had been avoiding.
First Aid’s helm nodded. “I think you remind me of them, sometimes, the way you fit together," he said, his sentences wandering a little, as if he were winding down into recharge. "Or when you’re on the battlefield, the way you fight, it’s like a dance. It’s like watching the Aerialbots flying only on the ground. When you become one.”
Sideswipe glanced at Sunstreaker. The bond between them was not something they talked about, or analyzed, it just was something that was there, and always had been. It made them both nervous, when other bots were interested in it. Bad things had happened, when …someone…had gotten too curious. Wheeljack had been curious, and Ratchet, but they’d dropped the whole topic quickly enough at Sunstreaker’s flat cold reaction, at Sideswipe’s joking evasions. It was one of the reasons they’d felt safe enough to stay, to be repaired. Medbays were bad places, before, but Ratchet’s medbay was different. It was safe there.
First Aid lifted his helm to smile at them again, face mask still retracted, looking tired but fond as his sat, arms around knees on Sideswipe’s berth. Sideswipe had a sudden memory of First Aid bracing over him during battlefield repairs, steady and unflinching while explosions and debris rocked the world.
“You survived, without them?” Sideswipe’s voice rose uncertainly, halfway through asking the question before his processor caught up and told him sternly that maybe this was not a line of questioning he should pursue.
First Aid’s optics seemed unfocused, a little, behind the visor, like he was looking inward.
“I know. I’m not supposed to be here, but I stayed,” he said slowly. “You kept me here, and I couldn’t leave while you needed me.” First Aid shook his helm a little, puzzled. “And then…you were gone, and I was alone, but they wanted me to stay, Wheeljack, and Silverbolt and Ratchet and Optimus…and I was alone but not alone…and even though I…miss them--” First Aid’s voice faltered and he trailed off. Sideswipe regarded him uneasily. He was showing some worrisome signs of heading into meltdown territory, and Sideswipe had no idea what he was going to do if that happened. Sunstreaker edged away uncertainly as well.
“Primus.” First Aid drew a harsh intake of atmosphere. “Oh Primus, I miss them, but…somehow as long as I can keep you both ok, that means they’re ok, wherever they are, and I’m so sorry they’re waiting for me but I’m staying, I can't go, not yet…it hurts so much, I can’t…” First Aid’s hands were clenched into tight fists and he trembled as he forced out the words one at a time. He ducked his head back down into his knees, and made a deep spark-wrenching sound that was not quite a sob. His engine caught and stumbled with a strained, high-pitched keen.
“What do we do?” Sideswipe looked over at his brother, optics wide.
“I don’t know! Comfort him, or something…” Sunstreaker backed away further.
“You comfort him!”
First Aid let out a strangled laugh, and something that sounded vaguely like “I’m ok,” followed by some deep gasping intakes. His hands clenched and released around his knees as he tried to regain control.
Where are you and what the frag are you doing to him? Sideswipe started at Ratchet’s terse comm. His vitals are all over the place.
In my quarters and I don’t the Pit know! Sideswipe commed back, with a sense of relief. Even Ratchet’s Great Displeasure was preferable to dealing with...whatever was shaking First Aid apart. We were just talking.
On my way. Do not move. Sideswipe had no intention of moving, was his panicked thought as he pressed close to Sunstreaker. A few kliks later Ratchet burst in, barely giving the door time to clear before he entered, his expression like that of a descending angel of doom.
He scanned First Aid, then sat next to the shivering medic and put one arm around him.
“Ratchet--“ First Aid managed to say. Ratchet frowned at the whine of his cooling fans as they struggled to cope with the strain on still-healing internals.
“Aid, what’s wrong? Tell me what’s going on,” Ratchet asked, gentle and concerned, his voice so at odds with his earlier expression that Sideswipe reset his audials a few times. First Aid shook his head but didn’t answer, shivering harder. More of those awful, choking not-sobs tumbled from his vocalizer.
“What happened?” Ratchet looked over at the two frontliners, and, despite his worry for his assistant he could not suppress an amused snort at the sight of the two holy terrors, fearsome melee warriors, bane of both Decepticons and of his own sanity, pressed together in the corner for all the world like two frightened sparklings and staring at First Aid as if he was one of Wheeljack’s inventions counting down to explosion.
“We were…we were just talking, honest. About his brothers....Ratchet, how come you never told us he was part of Defensor?”
Ratchet’s optic ridges rose in surprise. “He told you about his brothers?” Ratchet gave them both a sharp, unreadable look, and they both shifted nervously. First Aid tried to pull himself into an even tighter ball, and Ratchet turned his attention back to his assistant.
“Aid, you need to calm down,” he said, rubbing one shoulder soothingly. “You’re starting to overheat. Take deep intakes.”
First Aid complied, the air shuddering through his vents.
“Good, and another. Keep doing that.”
“I can’t,” First Aid gasped out. “Ratchet, I can’t stop. I can’t…I can’t do this-“
“Maybe you should?” Ratchet asked, keeping up his gentle touch. “You’ve never let yourself grieve for them, not since it happened. Maybe you should stop trying to fight it.”
First Aid shook his head vigorously, clenching in upon himself with a choked moan.
“I’m going to have to put you in stasis, then. You’re shaking yourself apart. Your systems can’t handle this right now and you’re going to overheat if I don’t get more coolant in you.”
First Aid made more noises, unintelligible but sounding like a muffled protest.
Ratchet sighed and looked up at the two huddled melee warriors, both of them watching with wide optics.
//We broke him// Sunstreaker sent with a little note of hysteria in the thought.
//Shut up// Sideswipe sent back, with the same note. First Aid, always so calm and cheerful, no matter what. And then they had to go and find the one thing that would freak him out. Maybe they should try to fix it?
“Ratchet, can we...um, do something? To help?” he asked hesitantly.
“You mean that?” Ratchet’s optics were sharp, judging their sincerity. Sideswipe immediately regretted making the offer, but he’d be slagged if he was going to back down now.
//Smooth move, greasy lubricant//
//Shut up, Sunny//
“Yes…” Sideswipe started out sounding certain but then his voice wavered at the glint in Ratchet’s optics.
“Come over here, then. You too, Sunstreaker. Now take him-“ Sideswipe held his arms out awkwardly as Ratchet handed over First Aid. “Yes, just like that. Sunstreaker, you lay down here and…here we go.” Ratchet gently tugged Sideswipe down, indicating he should lie down with First Aid, next to Sunstreaker, until the medic was sandwiched between them.
“No…” First Aid moaned, uncurling and pushing weakly against Sideswipe’s chest.
“Shhh, Aid, don’t fight this. You need it. Deep intakes. Keep taking them,” Ratchet soothed. “Gestalts recharge like this,” he explained to Sideswipe. “His systems are programmed for the physical contact, the gestalt frequency. You two aren’t a gestalt, exactly, but...I’m hoping it’s close enough.”
Sideswipe could feel what Ratchet meant – First Aid was relaxing, almost against his will it seemed, his whole frame starting to go limp against him, though still shaken by those wrenching almost-sobs.
“Sideswipe,” First Aid mumbled, intakes hitching. “Optics.”
Oh no, not this again. Ratchet’s expression was alarmed.
“No, really, there’s something wrong with my optics this time.” Sideswipe hastened to reassure him. “First Aid was right. Delayed…photon damage or something, he said. I was getting headaches.”
Ratchet seemed flummoxed for a moment, looking at his assistant and then back at Sideswipe several times.
“I was coming to see you about it,” Sideswipe said defensively, heading off any potential rants.
“All right,” Ratchet said at last. “I’ll pick up some light shielding while I’m at it. No wonder it’s so dim in here, I was wondering. Okay, Aid?” Ratchet stroked First Aid’s helm again. “I’ll take care of his optics, now power down.”
First Aid relaxed a little more, shutting down his own optics though he continued to make soft unhappy sounds against Sideswipe’s armor. The medic felt very warm, and Sideswipe turned up his cooling fans several notches. “There. There you go,” Ratchet said. Ratchet waited a few more breems, Sideswipe could feel First Aid growing heavier, more relaxed, until finally the medic was limp between them in recharge and Ratchet deemed it safe to leave.
“I’ll be back soon.”
“This is weird, Sunny,” Sideswipe said, after a few kliks of silence.
Sunstreaker snorted. “You think? And just who got us into this Mr. ‘Let’s Be Nice to First Aid’?”
“I bet Ratchet was just pulling our legs when he said gestalt teams recharge like this.”
“It worked though, didn’t it?”
“Well, it may be comforting, but it’s sure not comfortable. My whole arm is going numb. He weighs a megaton!”
“Move then, idiot.”
They shifted, squirming until the medic sandwiched between them was no longer putting pressure on Sideswipe’s arm.
“He still crying at all?”
“Just barely. I didn’t even know you could cry in recharge.”
They could both hear the faint, unhappy revving of First Aid’s engine.
“Rub his back,” Sunstreaker suggested.
“What?”
“He does that for me sometimes.”
“Does what?” Sideswipe asked.
“Rubs my back. Keeps me from tearing up the medbay when Ratchet’s operating on you.”
“I didn’t know that.” Sideswipe was surprised. Sunstreaker never let anyone but Sideswipe behind him.
“It helps. Mostly because I’m too busy remembering not to turn around and shoot him to worry about you.”
“He never rubs MY back,” Sideswipe said petulantly.
“I’m better looking,” Sunstreaker smirked. “Now rub.”
“Ha. I’m rubbing. Are you happy now?”
“Slower, and go in circles.”
“Who died and made you Prime?”
“Just do it, slag head, and watch out for where he got hurt.”
“I am not an idiot.”
“Debatable.”
“Shut up. Fraggin’ back rubbing dictating offspring of a…huh, well would you look at that.” Sideswipe blinked as First Aid sighed deeply and relaxed, the distressed frown on his faceplates finally smoothing away and his engine evening out. He shook his head in disbelief. “If anyone finds out we’re doing this we’ll never hear the end of it,” Sideswipe muttered, but nevertheless continued to soothe the recharging medic curled up against him.
This entry was originally posted at http://playswithworms.dreamwidth.org/149663.html. Please comment wherever you wish.
Title: Still Waters (3/?)
Characters: Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, First Aid, Ratchet, Ironhide
Universe: Protectobot Beginnings AU
Rating: K+
Word Count: 6976
Warnings: fairly graphic description of injury and recovery, angst
Summary: Sideswipe and First Aid both get kicked out, and the twins learn some new cuddling skills.
Ratchet declared Sideswipe fit to leave after another cycle, giving him a cube of medical-grade energon to drink first with orders to follow up with a second cube of regular energon once he got to his quarters. Other than that, Ratchet had barely even talked to him, all of his attention focused on First Aid, who had taken a turn for the worse. The junior medic had been overheating, babbling deliriously again when he was awake and worrying almost continuously about Sideswipe’s optics. He was wracked by periodic coughing fits as his vents stuttered and his engine made painful grinding sounds.
Ratchet had finally taken to gathering First Aid, wires and monitoring equipment and all, up in his arms, sitting on the berth with him to try to keep him calm. First Aid would tolerate it for awhile, but even though his face mask was back up again, Sideswipe could see the discontented frown of his optic ridges. “We still need you here, Aid,” Sideswipe heard Ratchet murmur. “Stay with us. Hang in there.”
First Aid, who had been slipping into recharge again, was suddenly taken by another coughing fit that brought up pieces of dried energon from his vents. “Ugh,” First Aid gasped when it was over. “Interesting,” he said, speaking soft but distinctly for a moment. “So that’s what it feels like to do that.”
Ratchet chuckled despite his increasing worry as he gently suctioned out Aid’s vents. “Only you would turn this into an educational experience.” First Aid murmured something unintelligible, but sounding suspiciously like “Sideswipe” and “optics” and then thankfully slipped back into his restless recharge. Ironhide stopped by with more energon, and after a brief nod of greeting to Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, passed a cube to Ratchet and took Ratchet’s place on the berth, carefully gathering First Aid against his armor. First Aid shifted restlessly away from Ironhide and then dropped his helm against the larger mech’s chestplates, recharge winning out for the moment.
“He fights it, doesn’t he,” Ironhide said, wrapping one arm around First Aid cautiously, protectively. Ratchet nodded, rubbing tiredly at his optics.
“Our energy fields are not the best substitutes, but his systems do respond to the contact, at least a little. But yes. He’s fighting it.”
Sideswipe quietly slid off the berth and left the medbay with Sunstreaker’s help without saying goodbye, guiltily relieved to be away. The look in Ratchet’s optics was tearing at his spark. If the First Aid was going to kick the ion bucket it seemed to Sideswipe that he should be there somehow, in some way he couldn’t quite explain to himself. Even if Ratchet said it wasn’t his fault, he should be there to…bear witness, or something. Sideswipe snorted. He’d just be in the way. Ratchet would never notice.
//Primus, Sideswipe. Why don’t you just go kiss him or something// Sunstreaker had evidently gotten fed up with his brother’s maunderings.
//No way!// Sideswipe retorted. He didn’t want to kiss Ratchet. Even if Ratchet did have very nice lips. Not as nice as Sunstreaker’s though. Sideswipe grinned as he felt Sunstreaker preening a little through the bond. And Ratchet wasn’t nearly as shiny, and even though white-and-red was a nice color combination, yellow was really the only way to go, and…
Sunstreaker, sensing when his brother crossed the fine line between admiring to laughing at him, growled and shoved. Sideswipe stumbled against the wall of the corridor and promptly lost his balance, falling over into a heap.
“Ow,” he moaned, as he gingerly tried to roll over without putting strain on his still-healing leg. “What was that for?” he said reproachfully.
General principle,” Sunstreaker said succinctly, but Sideswipe caught the brief touch of remorse through their bond as Sunstreaker leaned over to give him a hand up. He’d been annoyed, but hadn’t meant to push him quite so hard. “So what do you think?”
“Huh?” Sideswipe asked, puzzled by the non sequitur, but familiar with Sunstreaker’s assumption that everyone knew what he was thinking about. And often Sideswipe did know, but right now Sunstreaker’s thoughts were elusive.
“That guy,” Sunstreaker said more emphatically. “You know.”
Sideswipe gave his brother a shove. //I don’t know, idiot. Who do you think I am, your twin or something?//
Sunstreaker shoved back, with only token force this time. //Don’t call me idiot. Idiot//
Sideswipe pummeled back through their bond until Sunstreaker relented and gave up an image of a small white-and-red medic lying on a berth. //Do you think he’ll deactivate?//
“First Aid? Why didn’t you just say so, dummy.”
“I did say so.”
Sideswipe flickered his optics and gave up. “He didn’t look real good, bro.” Sideswipe had to stop and steady his vocalizer, and Sunstreaker gave him an odd look. What was the matter with him? Going soft over a boring little medbay assistant. Ratchet’s favorite special one. That he’d probably deactivated. Wasn’t the first friend they’d deactivated, the thought floated between them, and Sideswipe wasn’t sure if it was his or Sunstreaker's.
“Great. That makes me feel better,” Sideswipe said aloud. They had reached their quarters. Sideswipe limped over to his berth and flopped down on the edge. Sunstreaker shrugged, but came over and sat next to him. Sideswipe couldn’t quite catch his twin’s emotions, still elusive, as they often were when it was anything besides anger or the fierceness of battle. Some sympathy, for him, dark memories that Sunstreaker wouldn’t let him catch, tucking them deep away when he noticed Sideswipe noticing. Sideswipe didn’t pursue them; he’d tried that before.
“I’ll get you some energon,” Sunstreaker said, after awhile, with the air of someone making a great decision.
“You’re too kind,” Sideswipe said grandly.
“Why yes I am,” Sunstreaker shoved his brother on the shoulder, not too hard, as he got up, a quick grin flashing across his face, there and gone again like a lightning flash. Sideswipe tried to shove back but Sunstreaker was already heading for the door. He was smiling helplessly, as he couldn’t help but do when Sunstreaker looked at him like that. His smile faded though, as he remembered what he’d been trying to forget. Stupid little medic, getting himself hurt. His head hurt. Sideswipe curled up in a ball and waited for Sunstreaker to return with the energon.
Sideswipe avoided the medbay for the next orn. His leg was healing fine, and Jazz had scheduled him back on light duty, but the headaches were starting to get annoying. He should have gone back to Ratchet right away, but he was afraid to return and discover that First Aid had deactivated, and then he had waited so long that he feared Ratchet’s wrath from admitting how long he had waited. Sunstreaker finally threatened to make his head really hurt, which degenerated into an out-and-out tussling match which only ended when Sideswipe smacked his head against a wall and nearly purged. Sunstreaker moved a prudent step back, and then, once Sideswipe got his tank under control, dragged him to the door, pushed him out in the hallway, and shut and locked it behind him.
Sideswipe looked at the door forlornly for a moment, and then, as his head gave another sharp throb, at last made his way back to the medbay. When he got there he was surprised to see First Aid, apparently upright and functional, standing forlornly outside the closed door of the medbay, much as Sideswipe had been doing at his own door a few moments ago.
“Hey! You’re alive!” Sideswipe said in surprise, deeply relieved.
“Yes, I am,” First Aid nodded. From anyone else, Sideswipe might have suspected sarcasm, but First Aid answered Sideswipe’s statement of the obvious with full and sincere solemnity.
“What are you doing out here?”
“Ratchet kicked me out.” Aid’s soft voice had the static raspy sound of someone only running at part strength, and he wobbled a little where he stood.
“Kicked you out?” Sideswipe repeated. He’d thought First Aid pretty much lived in the medbay. Aside from planetside missions he’d never seen First Aid anywhere else, other than the odd time or two in the hallways of the Ark, and it seemed strange that Ratchet would just kick out a patient that was so obviously far from fully recovered. Sideswipe maybe, if he’d been annoying enough, but not his favorite little assistant that he’d been hovering over like an anxious creator for nearly two orns.
“I was just trying to clean the ceiling,” First Aid said, in a slightly defensive tone of voice. “It’s filthy. I don’t think it’s been cleaned since the Ark was first commissioned.”
Ah yes. Sideswipe had memorized every single stain and dent on that slagging thing, himself.
“I know just what you mean,” he agreed. First Aid looked back at the medbay door again, seemingly at a loss.
“What are you going to do now?” Sideswipe asked.
First Aid’s visor brightened briefly. “I don’t really know,” he said, with something that might have been a laugh if it were louder. “Maybe walk around? I’m supposed to walk a little bit, Ratchet said.”
Privately Sideswipe thought he looked like a good breeze would tip him over, as he watched the medic list to the left a little, and then back to the right before he centered himself again. Sideswipe sighed to himself reluctantly, but there was no way he was going to let First Aid roam around in this state, and he still couldn’t believe Ratchet had let his precious assistant out in this condition in the first place.
“Here, I’ll walk you to your quarters, how’s that,” he offered. Sideswipe could see First Aid’s optic shutters blink in surprise behind his visor. “You do have quarters, don’t you?”
”Um…” First Aid rubbed at his helm a little in thought. “They assigned me some when we first boarded the Ark. I think I remember where they are.”
Sideswipe shook his head. Poor mech was still so addled he couldn’t remember where he lived.
“All right, well show me the way. Least I can do is make sure you get there in one piece.”
“Thank you, Sideswipe,” First Aid said, visor glowing a deeper blue. “That’s very thoughtful of you.” First Aid took an unsteady step, putting his hand on the wall for balance. Sideswipe shifted uncomfortably for a moment, but he couldn’t exactly let the guy stagger all the way to his quarters. He moved to First Aid’s other side and gingerly hooked a hand under the medic’s arm to help him along. Sideswipe had to brace himself a little; First Aid was heavier than he’d anticipated as the medic leaned trustingly on his arm.
Ironhide appeared from around an intersecting corridor ahead of them, optic ridges rising in surprise when he saw First Aid clinging to Sideswipe’s arm as they made their slow, careful way down the corridor. Sideswipe looked at Ironhide with an expression that was not exactly desperate, but clearly conveyed his relief at seeing the burly weapon's master, and, thank Primus, he could pass the injured medic on to someone else. Ironhide’s mouthplates quirked suddenly, as if he was suppressing a smile.
“Look at you, up and walking around,” Ironhide said, and he did smile this time, looking at First Aid fondly. “So ol’ Ratch kicked you out, huh?”
“I guess I’m not a very good patient,” First Aid said ruefully, pausing to rest, leaning heavily on Sideswipe and cycling air deeply through his vents.
“Aw, you weren’t so bad, kid. Just kinda out of it for awhile,” Ironhide reassured him.
“Thank you for helping take care of me. I don’t remember a lot, but Ratchet said you were there.”
Ironhide chuckled. “And how many times have you stayed with me after helping patch my sorry aft back together? Ratchet sent me to keep an optic on ya and make sure you don’t try to go around giving everyone maintenance checks or vacuum the hallways or anything, but it looks like you’re in good hands already.”
Sideswipe widened his optics in alarm, but Ironhide only smirked. Probably thinking it would be another one of those ‘character building experiences’ he was so fond of, the sadistic fragger.
“Let me double check with the boss, first,” Ironhide told them, activating his comm. Shortly after, Sideswipe was contacted by Ratchet, who proceeded to grill him on where he was taking First Aid and promises of dire fates if he were to be stupid enough to allow any sort of additional damage to the injured junior medic, followed by an insanely detailed list of everything First Aid was and was not allowed to do while he was out of Ratchet’s direct supervision.
First Aid evidently wasn’t privy to any of it, watching Sideswipe’s dazed expression curiously.
“Ok then?” Ironhide asked cheerfully, patting Sideswipe on the shoulder. “Don’t look so terrified, soldier,” he murmured in Sideswipe’s audio. “After a vorn wrestling some kind of sense into you and yer brother I think I know ya pretty well. There’s a solid spark under all your nonsense. You can handle him." Ironhide straightened and gave First Aid a wink. “Take it easy, kid. Glad yer feelin’ better.” Ironhide continued on his way and Sideswipe stood blinking for a moment, processing Ironhide’s rare -- praise? He supposed that counted as praise -- while First Aid waited patiently.
“All right, so how far to your quarters?” Sideswipe asked finally, with a resigned but resolute sigh, and they made their way back down the corridor at First Aid’s slow, careful pace.
“How’s your leg,” First Aid asked, glancing over at Sideswipe and watching for limping.
“Huh uh, no way,” Sideswipe said, waving his free hand defensively. “Ratchet said absolutely no repairing or he’d come and vacuum my processor out through my noseplates.”
“He did?” First Aid said, sounding surprised.
“Yeah he did. So do me a favor and don’t fall over, or bump into something, or Primus forbid, try to fix anything, ok?”
First Aid nodded. “For your continued health then,” he said. “I’ll try to behave myself.” Sideswipe couldn’t be sure but he thought First Aid sounded amused. They took a few more steps and First Aid stopped at the next door.
“This it?” Sideswipe said in relief. That was easy enough.
“I guess so,” First Aid said, transmitting his security code to the door. It slid open smoothly and First Aid walked hesitantly inside. Sideswipe looked around in confusion.
“These are your quarters? There’s nothing in here!” Nothing but a berth in the corner and an empty workstation in the other. Quarters on the Ark were, by necessity, quite small, but most ‘bots managed to stuff in an assortment of personal detritus, entertainment, holo vids, mementos and image captures. Sideswipe would have expected to find a few data pads scattered around, at the very least. First Aid was always reading them in the medbay.
“You really DO live in the medbay, don’t you.” Sideswipe looked at First Aid in amazement. First Aid sat on the berth, looking very small and alone.
“Thanks, Sideswipe, for making sure I got here ok,” First Aid said softly. Sideswipe stared at him for a moment uncertainly. On the one hand, he was relieved to get his First Aid guardian ‘bot duties over so painlessly, on the other hand…slaggit. There was no way he could just leave First Aid sitting alone in an empty room like this. Curse it all to Pit. When did he develop a case of soft spark? Sunstreaker was going to think he’d lost his processor. And he’d only be proving Ironhide right of all the annoying things.
“Come on,” he sighed. First Aid made a puzzled noise.
“Come on,” Sideswipe repeated. “You’re coming with me. At least we’ve got a holo vid in my quarters.”
First Aid tilted his helm, but got up again, carefully, with a small involuntary gasp through his intakes. Sideswipe reached out a hand, but First Aid waved it away.
“Thanks, but...I think...I’m ok.”
Sideswipe wondered if this was a good idea. At least his and Sunny’s quarters weren’t too far away, otherwise he’d probably be carrying the medic over his shoulder or something. Not an appealing thought, with his head still throbbing like Pit. Somehow his original mission to get that looked at had been completely sidetracked. He looked at First Aid consideringly, but decided not to risk Ratchet’s threats. Absolutely no fixing.
He’d forgotten that Sunstreaker locked him out. Sideswipe gave First Aid an apologetic look as he pounded on the door and yelled for Sunny to just open the fraggin’ door. Sunstreaker took his own sweet time, but finally the door slid open.
//What the Pit, bro?// Sunstreaker asked in amazement as Sideswipe entered, trailed by the little red-and-white medic. //Ratchet doesn’t trust you alone away from the medbay so he sent you with a sparkling-sitter?//
Sideswipe rolled his optics. //Other way around. He kicked First Aid out and I got stuck making sure he doesn’t strain a servo or any other slag//
//That guy. He didn’t deactivate then//
//Obviously not// Sideswipe sent, with a mental snort. Sunstreaker wasn’t stupid, far from it, but sometimes he was a little unobservant when it came to other ‘bots. First Aid was peering curiously around, one hand on the doorframe for support. His vents sounded funny, whirring with an unhealthy sound, and Sideswipe waved him to his berth before he fell down. First Aid wobbled as he made his way over, accidentally kicking a table leg as he tried to catch his balance.
“Sorry,” he murmured, patting the table sympathetically.
Sideswipe paused his sudden motion forward to keep the medic from taking a nosedive when it appeared First Aid was going to make it to the berth safely on his own.
“Sorry? Aid…that’s a table.” First Aid looked up at him from where he’d lowered himself to Sideswipe’s berth and nodded.
“You just apologized to a table.”
“I know,” First Aid said, not seeming to see anything unusual.
“It…can’t feel anything, you know that.”
“I know, Sideswipe,” First Aid said, with that note in his voice that hinted he might be smiling. “That’s no cause to be rude though.”
Weird. Sweet Primus, First Aid was a weird ‘bot. And what the slag was he supposed to do with him now that he was here? Sideswipe rubbed at his helm, the headache intensifying with a vengeance. He could tell Sunstreaker was glaring at him from behind his back for not getting that looked at like he was supposed to. First Aid was looking at him too, optics worried behind the visor.
“Sideswipe…are you ok?” he asked. “I can go back to the medbay if you’re busy. It’s all right, really. I can protect you from Ratchet.” The last was said with the tiniest hint of teasing, so subtle Sideswipe almost thought he was imagining it.
“No, no, it’s not you. Just this slagging headache won’t go away.” Too late Sideswipe remembered exactly who he was talking to. First Aid was up before he could blink his optic shutters, urging him to sit on the berth with gentle hands. The medic peered into his optics and then ran a hand over his helm. Sideswipe could feel the gentle buzz of a scanner, like tiny vibrations through his processor. It eased the pain for a moment, but he winced as the scan stopped and the pain returned.
“How are your optics feeling? Any pain?” First Aid tilted Sideswipe’s head up so he could see better.
Sideswipe just looked at him. “Not this again,” he muttered.
“What?” First Aid asked, puzzled, hands pausing in their perusal of Sideswipe’s face and helm.
“Oh, I don’t know, it’s only like the millionth time you’ve asked me that.”
First Aid made another puzzled noise.
“When we were in the medbay. After you were hurt. You wouldn’t stop worrying about my optics.”
“I’m sorry, Sideswipe. I guess I can get a little…fixated on things sometimes. I must have been processor looping.”
Sideswipe was starting to feel guilty about complaining about it. First Aid had been delirious after all, and he was just trying to do his job.
“I’m afraid this time it might really be the optics causing your headaches. Sometimes the damage from a photon blast doesn’t manifest until much later. Here…” First Aid shuttered his own optics and with a small flick of his head his visor snicked up to the top of his head. He reached up and detached it, holding it out to Sideswipe with his optics still shuttered.
“Put this on for a moment and see if it helps.”
Sideswipe did so, awkwardly sliding the visor over his face. It was a little loose, he noticed. Huh, he’d never have guessed First Aid had the bigger head. The light shielding on the visor caused everything to go darker around him, but the relief was almost immediate.
“Hey, my head feels better!” he exclaimed, tilting his head this way and that to test it out.
First Aid nodded. “I’ll make you a therapeutic light shield when I get back to the medbay. Dim the lights in here for now and that should help temporarily, but you’ll need the light shield, too, and probably a few mag-wave treatments as well to make sure the damage reverses itself. It’s usually not permanent as long as you get treatment.”
Sunstreaker dimmed the lights to their lowest level, and Sideswipe handed the visor back. First Aid placed it back on his helm and flicked it back in place, where it brightened to its usual blue glow as he opened his optics again.
“That what happened to you?” Sideswipe asked curiously. “Photon blast?” Mechs could have visors for a variety of purposes, but from the way First Aid kept his optics so tightly shuttered without it, his visor was probably not an optional accessory.
“Mmm, no.” First Aid shook his head. “Disrupter cannon. Point blank hit, wiped out most of my sensory network for awhile.”
Sunstreaker made a surprised sound, and Sideswipe echoed it. A point blank blast from a disrupter cannon usually left a pile of smoking scrap metal. That must be what Ratchet had meant about First Aid being tougher than he looked.
“How the pit did you survive that one?” Sideswipe asked.
“I wasn’t just me,” First Aid said, sitting back down on the berth. “The blast was dissipated quite a bit since we were...I was…my….” First Aid paused for a moment, seeming to lose track of what he was saying, optic ridges furrowed. Sideswipe wondered if it was a symptom of his injuries. Maybe he should call Ratchet? “My b-brothers absorbed a lot of the blast energy, too.”
“Brothers? As in plural?” Sunstreaker asked. Spark-twins like themselves were extremely rare, brothers from the same Vector Sigma creator-set were less rare, but still unusual, and bond-brothers were usually two, or more rarely three. Sideswipe had never met anyone with more than one sibling.
“Four,” First Aid said, with a short laugh that sounded like it had been surprised out of him.
Four? Sideswipe almost scoffed in disbelief. No one had four brothers.
“Where are they then?” Sunstreaker was asking. Sideswipe felt Sunstreaker’s skepticism through the bond.
First Aid shook his helm and drew a raspy vent through his intakes. “I...think...I don’t really...I...lost them,” First Aid got it out at last. One hand was tightly clasping the other in his lap, as if for comfort.
“Lost…” Sunstreaker repeated. A sharp pang of understanding echoed between them. Everyone had lost someone, many someones, in this war, but to lose a brother, four brothers, no one had four brothers, except a gestalt maybe, and Aid certainly wasn’t an Aerialbot, and the only other gestalts were Decepticons or …something clicked in Sideswipe’s processor.
“Defensor. You were part of Defensor,” Sideswipe said slowly, barely able to believe it, but nothing else made sense. First Aid looked up sharply at the name. Five Protectobot brothers. All search and rescue, one had been a medic. Defensor’s components had been deactivated, tragically lost, several vorns back at the end of the Cybonic plague; it had been a great blow to the Autobots, and with the Allspark hidden away no new gestalt had been built to replace him. Only not all of the Protectobots had been lost, apparently. One had survived, though all the legends Sideswipe knew about gestalts said that that was impossible.
“Defensor,” First Aid said, softly, and again, like he was reminding himself. “Defensor.”
“I met you before! Or Defensor, anyway, once.” Sideswipe blinked his optic shutters in surprise at the realization.
First Aid looked up at him, nodding. “We’ve met a few times, actually.” His optics were bright behind the visor in the dimmed lighting of their quarters. “You remember that?”
“Yes,” he said. Defensor had taken the roof from his prison, brought light to the darkness, pulled the walls apart until he could find Sunstreaker again. Four vorns ago? Five? It was tangled in his memory banks with the darkness before and after, but he remembered the concern and kindness in Defensor’s great optics. A trap, he had thought at the time. There was no way it could be trusted, nothing like that could be trusted, and if it were true it would be wrong to reach for it with all the confused darkness in his spark and so he had run, with Sunny. Looking at First Aid now, recognizing echoes of that concern and kindness in the focus of his gaze, Sideswipe was fairly certain that had been a mistake. They should have stayed.
“Defensor,” Sunstreaker muttered, looking at the unimposing medic sitting on Sideswipe’s berth. “They sing songs about Defensor.”
First Aid tilted his helm in Sunstreaker’s direction. “Songs?” He laughed a little incredulously. “They do?”
“Yeah, and Sideswipe can sing them all for you.” Both of their minds were veering away from something they didn’t want to contemplate, not for long. Brothers, lost. Sunstreaker took out his uneasiness by elbowing his brother hard in the side, and Sideswipe grabbed Sunny’s arm and twisted it behind him. Sunstreaker retaliated by sweeping his leg under Sideswipe’s and toppling them both to the floor, pinning Sideswipe beneath him and growling a soft crooning warning in his audio. First Aid watched all of this with no sign of alarm, visor still glowing bright, pulling up his legs onto the berth to avoid the flailing limbs and peering over the side at Sideswipe’s contorted face as he squirmed on the floor beneath Sunstreaker.
Sunstreaker followed Sideswipe’s gaze, craning his neck up to fix his hot glare on the medic. “Do you ever take that face mask off?” he asked, grunting a little as Sideswipe shoved against him.
First Aid shook his helm. “It’s attached,” he said, apparently seeing nothing strange in the question, “but I can retract it.” He demonstrated, revealing his pleasant, unremarkable face with a small hint of a smile curving the ends of his lip components.
“Not hideous,” was Sunstreaker’s verdict. “Why do you keep it closed all the time?” Sideswipe raised an optic ridge; Sunstreaker, trying to make conversation? Expressing interest, by choice, to another mechanism that wasn’t trying to kill him. It was kind of weird.
First Aid shrugged. “I didn’t always, but...after, I would smile and no one understood, and…” First Aid’s visor flickered and his optic shutters blinked rapidly for a moment. He shook his helm again and sighed, and found a small smile for Sunstreaker. Sideswipe didn’t see anything about it that would require it to be hidden. “You remind me of Slingshot, a little,” First Aid said, the smile curving wider. “And Air Raid, and Fireflight, and even Skydive and Silverbolt sometimes. They always wrestle around like that.”
Aerialbots! Sideswipe thought with a thrill. Of course. He had been part of Defensor, of course First Aid knew the Aerialbots. Pit, he’d probably sparred with Superion! Sideswipe wriggled, though he could feel Sunstreaker laughing at him. Sunstreaker had never understood his brother’s fascination with jets, seekers or otherwise. They were just so…fast! And shiny. They made Sideswipe want to fly, too.
//I should have been a jet// he told Sunstreaker.
//You should have been an exhaust pipe// Sunstreaker jibed back. //No wonder he’s so…the way he is, when there’s fighting, if he’s used to being Defensor// Totally oblivious, Sunstreaker meant. If there was a patient to be tended, it didn’t matter what was in the way, First Aid generally found a way to get there. They provided cover when they could, at first under Ironhide’s direction, but now they’d gotten in the habit of keeping an optic out for a white form moving right through the thick of things. It was just a sort of automatic response. Sideswipe hardly noticed he was doing it anymore.
Primus, that meant First Aid was also…what…not even eleven vorns old? Defensor, the Protectobots, had been tragically, appallingly young at their deactivation, only sparklings. It was in all the songs. He and Sunstreaker were still considered barely adults at eight hundred some vorns, but even the Aerialbots would be celebrating their two hundredth sparkday soon.
//You keep track of their ages?// Sunstreaker marveled.
//What?// Sideswipe sent, defensive.
//Nothing…I’m just saying, you pay an awful lot of attention to those guys//
//I do not//
//Maybe someday you’ll meet your heroes, bro, don’t worry//
//They’re NOT my heroes// Sideswipe growled. Sunstreaker sent a wordless wave of amused disbelief in his direction.
Sideswipe glanced up to see if First Aid was still watching them, but the medic had dropped his head against his knees.
“Aid? You ok?” he asked.
“Yeah, just a little tired.” First Aid lifted his head again and gave him that same small smile. There was nothing sad about it, but for some reason it sent a pang through Sideswipe’s spark. Poor kid had to feel like slag, Sideswipe was pretty certain. It was only an orn ago he’d been delirious in Ratchet’s arms and hooked up to every possible monitor and machine in the medbay. His visor looked dimmer than before. Ratchet had a remote monitor on him, so he would know if First Aid was about to keel over, but still...
“You can lay down,” Sideswipe told him, as he pushed Sunstreaker off and scrambled to his feet. Sunstreaker didn’t protest.
“I’m ok,” First Aid said. “It feels good to sit up for a change.” He let his head drop back down to his knees again. “Thank you for looking after me,” he added, voice muffled. “You can do whatever you were doing. I’ll be fine here for awhile and then maybe Ratchet will let me back in the medbay, if I promise not to clean anything.” First Aid’s face appeared again for a moment as he looked up, his smile sweet and slightly wry this time.
“Ok,” Sideswipe said. He stood looking at the medic, sitting curled up in a ball on his berth.
“I’m sorry, about your brothers,” he said after awhile, his processor finally circling back to what it had been avoiding.
First Aid’s helm nodded. “I think you remind me of them, sometimes, the way you fit together," he said, his sentences wandering a little, as if he were winding down into recharge. "Or when you’re on the battlefield, the way you fight, it’s like a dance. It’s like watching the Aerialbots flying only on the ground. When you become one.”
Sideswipe glanced at Sunstreaker. The bond between them was not something they talked about, or analyzed, it just was something that was there, and always had been. It made them both nervous, when other bots were interested in it. Bad things had happened, when …someone…had gotten too curious. Wheeljack had been curious, and Ratchet, but they’d dropped the whole topic quickly enough at Sunstreaker’s flat cold reaction, at Sideswipe’s joking evasions. It was one of the reasons they’d felt safe enough to stay, to be repaired. Medbays were bad places, before, but Ratchet’s medbay was different. It was safe there.
First Aid lifted his helm to smile at them again, face mask still retracted, looking tired but fond as his sat, arms around knees on Sideswipe’s berth. Sideswipe had a sudden memory of First Aid bracing over him during battlefield repairs, steady and unflinching while explosions and debris rocked the world.
“You survived, without them?” Sideswipe’s voice rose uncertainly, halfway through asking the question before his processor caught up and told him sternly that maybe this was not a line of questioning he should pursue.
First Aid’s optics seemed unfocused, a little, behind the visor, like he was looking inward.
“I know. I’m not supposed to be here, but I stayed,” he said slowly. “You kept me here, and I couldn’t leave while you needed me.” First Aid shook his helm a little, puzzled. “And then…you were gone, and I was alone, but they wanted me to stay, Wheeljack, and Silverbolt and Ratchet and Optimus…and I was alone but not alone…and even though I…miss them--” First Aid’s voice faltered and he trailed off. Sideswipe regarded him uneasily. He was showing some worrisome signs of heading into meltdown territory, and Sideswipe had no idea what he was going to do if that happened. Sunstreaker edged away uncertainly as well.
“Primus.” First Aid drew a harsh intake of atmosphere. “Oh Primus, I miss them, but…somehow as long as I can keep you both ok, that means they’re ok, wherever they are, and I’m so sorry they’re waiting for me but I’m staying, I can't go, not yet…it hurts so much, I can’t…” First Aid’s hands were clenched into tight fists and he trembled as he forced out the words one at a time. He ducked his head back down into his knees, and made a deep spark-wrenching sound that was not quite a sob. His engine caught and stumbled with a strained, high-pitched keen.
“What do we do?” Sideswipe looked over at his brother, optics wide.
“I don’t know! Comfort him, or something…” Sunstreaker backed away further.
“You comfort him!”
First Aid let out a strangled laugh, and something that sounded vaguely like “I’m ok,” followed by some deep gasping intakes. His hands clenched and released around his knees as he tried to regain control.
Where are you and what the frag are you doing to him? Sideswipe started at Ratchet’s terse comm. His vitals are all over the place.
In my quarters and I don’t the Pit know! Sideswipe commed back, with a sense of relief. Even Ratchet’s Great Displeasure was preferable to dealing with...whatever was shaking First Aid apart. We were just talking.
On my way. Do not move. Sideswipe had no intention of moving, was his panicked thought as he pressed close to Sunstreaker. A few kliks later Ratchet burst in, barely giving the door time to clear before he entered, his expression like that of a descending angel of doom.
He scanned First Aid, then sat next to the shivering medic and put one arm around him.
“Ratchet--“ First Aid managed to say. Ratchet frowned at the whine of his cooling fans as they struggled to cope with the strain on still-healing internals.
“Aid, what’s wrong? Tell me what’s going on,” Ratchet asked, gentle and concerned, his voice so at odds with his earlier expression that Sideswipe reset his audials a few times. First Aid shook his head but didn’t answer, shivering harder. More of those awful, choking not-sobs tumbled from his vocalizer.
“What happened?” Ratchet looked over at the two frontliners, and, despite his worry for his assistant he could not suppress an amused snort at the sight of the two holy terrors, fearsome melee warriors, bane of both Decepticons and of his own sanity, pressed together in the corner for all the world like two frightened sparklings and staring at First Aid as if he was one of Wheeljack’s inventions counting down to explosion.
“We were…we were just talking, honest. About his brothers....Ratchet, how come you never told us he was part of Defensor?”
Ratchet’s optic ridges rose in surprise. “He told you about his brothers?” Ratchet gave them both a sharp, unreadable look, and they both shifted nervously. First Aid tried to pull himself into an even tighter ball, and Ratchet turned his attention back to his assistant.
“Aid, you need to calm down,” he said, rubbing one shoulder soothingly. “You’re starting to overheat. Take deep intakes.”
First Aid complied, the air shuddering through his vents.
“Good, and another. Keep doing that.”
“I can’t,” First Aid gasped out. “Ratchet, I can’t stop. I can’t…I can’t do this-“
“Maybe you should?” Ratchet asked, keeping up his gentle touch. “You’ve never let yourself grieve for them, not since it happened. Maybe you should stop trying to fight it.”
First Aid shook his head vigorously, clenching in upon himself with a choked moan.
“I’m going to have to put you in stasis, then. You’re shaking yourself apart. Your systems can’t handle this right now and you’re going to overheat if I don’t get more coolant in you.”
First Aid made more noises, unintelligible but sounding like a muffled protest.
Ratchet sighed and looked up at the two huddled melee warriors, both of them watching with wide optics.
//We broke him// Sunstreaker sent with a little note of hysteria in the thought.
//Shut up// Sideswipe sent back, with the same note. First Aid, always so calm and cheerful, no matter what. And then they had to go and find the one thing that would freak him out. Maybe they should try to fix it?
“Ratchet, can we...um, do something? To help?” he asked hesitantly.
“You mean that?” Ratchet’s optics were sharp, judging their sincerity. Sideswipe immediately regretted making the offer, but he’d be slagged if he was going to back down now.
//Smooth move, greasy lubricant//
//Shut up, Sunny//
“Yes…” Sideswipe started out sounding certain but then his voice wavered at the glint in Ratchet’s optics.
“Come over here, then. You too, Sunstreaker. Now take him-“ Sideswipe held his arms out awkwardly as Ratchet handed over First Aid. “Yes, just like that. Sunstreaker, you lay down here and…here we go.” Ratchet gently tugged Sideswipe down, indicating he should lie down with First Aid, next to Sunstreaker, until the medic was sandwiched between them.
“No…” First Aid moaned, uncurling and pushing weakly against Sideswipe’s chest.
“Shhh, Aid, don’t fight this. You need it. Deep intakes. Keep taking them,” Ratchet soothed. “Gestalts recharge like this,” he explained to Sideswipe. “His systems are programmed for the physical contact, the gestalt frequency. You two aren’t a gestalt, exactly, but...I’m hoping it’s close enough.”
Sideswipe could feel what Ratchet meant – First Aid was relaxing, almost against his will it seemed, his whole frame starting to go limp against him, though still shaken by those wrenching almost-sobs.
“Sideswipe,” First Aid mumbled, intakes hitching. “Optics.”
Oh no, not this again. Ratchet’s expression was alarmed.
“No, really, there’s something wrong with my optics this time.” Sideswipe hastened to reassure him. “First Aid was right. Delayed…photon damage or something, he said. I was getting headaches.”
Ratchet seemed flummoxed for a moment, looking at his assistant and then back at Sideswipe several times.
“I was coming to see you about it,” Sideswipe said defensively, heading off any potential rants.
“All right,” Ratchet said at last. “I’ll pick up some light shielding while I’m at it. No wonder it’s so dim in here, I was wondering. Okay, Aid?” Ratchet stroked First Aid’s helm again. “I’ll take care of his optics, now power down.”
First Aid relaxed a little more, shutting down his own optics though he continued to make soft unhappy sounds against Sideswipe’s armor. The medic felt very warm, and Sideswipe turned up his cooling fans several notches. “There. There you go,” Ratchet said. Ratchet waited a few more breems, Sideswipe could feel First Aid growing heavier, more relaxed, until finally the medic was limp between them in recharge and Ratchet deemed it safe to leave.
“I’ll be back soon.”
“This is weird, Sunny,” Sideswipe said, after a few kliks of silence.
Sunstreaker snorted. “You think? And just who got us into this Mr. ‘Let’s Be Nice to First Aid’?”
“I bet Ratchet was just pulling our legs when he said gestalt teams recharge like this.”
“It worked though, didn’t it?”
“Well, it may be comforting, but it’s sure not comfortable. My whole arm is going numb. He weighs a megaton!”
“Move then, idiot.”
They shifted, squirming until the medic sandwiched between them was no longer putting pressure on Sideswipe’s arm.
“He still crying at all?”
“Just barely. I didn’t even know you could cry in recharge.”
They could both hear the faint, unhappy revving of First Aid’s engine.
“Rub his back,” Sunstreaker suggested.
“What?”
“He does that for me sometimes.”
“Does what?” Sideswipe asked.
“Rubs my back. Keeps me from tearing up the medbay when Ratchet’s operating on you.”
“I didn’t know that.” Sideswipe was surprised. Sunstreaker never let anyone but Sideswipe behind him.
“It helps. Mostly because I’m too busy remembering not to turn around and shoot him to worry about you.”
“He never rubs MY back,” Sideswipe said petulantly.
“I’m better looking,” Sunstreaker smirked. “Now rub.”
“Ha. I’m rubbing. Are you happy now?”
“Slower, and go in circles.”
“Who died and made you Prime?”
“Just do it, slag head, and watch out for where he got hurt.”
“I am not an idiot.”
“Debatable.”
“Shut up. Fraggin’ back rubbing dictating offspring of a…huh, well would you look at that.” Sideswipe blinked as First Aid sighed deeply and relaxed, the distressed frown on his faceplates finally smoothing away and his engine evening out. He shook his head in disbelief. “If anyone finds out we’re doing this we’ll never hear the end of it,” Sideswipe muttered, but nevertheless continued to soothe the recharging medic curled up against him.
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