A/N: Written out of boredom and because lacks Animated Ratchet/Ironhide fics.
Disclaimer: Recognize it? Not mine.

How we met the first time around 1: Going about saying good bye and hello

It was hard to say good-bye, especially to a medic. Ratchet sat somberly as the others took the corpse of one of his few friends away to be recycled, following the fate of all cybertronians. His designation was Omega Supreme, and only Primus knew what would become of his body after that. As his programming tragically dictated, Omega sacrificed himself to save the Autobot cause and ended the Great War with one hell of a bang, sending the All Spark to the far reaches of the universe.

Just after the officials loaded the last of Omega's remains (the poor guy had been dismembered in consequence to the explosions), Ratchet asked for some alone time with him.

"You were too young, my friend. Too young and kind," he mumbled, grieving the loss quietly. It brought back memories of eager soldiers whose lives were either cut short or forever traumatized, all witnessed by Ratchet.

"I don't know about you, but I'm tired of fighting,' he sadly chuckled, patting the arm that was still connected to whatever remained of the torso.

After a moment of silence, the medic left, hoping to apply for honorable discharge and never EVER set foot in a battle zone for the remainder of his life.

Sadly, an honorable discharge was out of the question as even retired bots were put in for the efforts of helping the Elite Guard's formation. As the main military faculty of the postwar civilization, they had two purposes: to keep the peace and to keep Decepticons away from the recovering Cybertron. Ratchet grumbled with a new level of annoyance as fellow veteran and friend Wheeljack laughed at him.

"You did what to that Minor?" he managed between laughs.

"You heard me, Sentinel was getting on my last circuit so I gave him the literal demonstration of the phrase 'stick it up your tailpipe'…What's so funny?"

"Well, your luck for starters. Guess who's the doc-bot on Physical test duty for the recruits on this glorious orbit cycle?" Wheeljack could barely contain himself.

"I hate you, you slaggin' bastard."

"Today's roster is from the one, the only, Sentinel Minor!" Wheeljack added with a little flair to further aggravate Ratchet's humor

"I'm gonna have your head processor by the time I get through with this roster," Ratchet threatened before grabbing his equipment and heading off.

After settling in on the rather spacious medbay, he began to rant rather loudly about how there was no respect towards him or the other old bots that remained and how he was going to have a serious chat with Ultra Magnus.

"Bring in the first one already!" he yelled as he sat down. The first one's designation was Longarm, a quiet and rather charismatic cadet. He only talked about relevant topics as Ratchet proceeded with his check up. After him came a big guy, designation Bulkhead. He was a curious one, asking about little things and how they worked, and that slightly irritated Ratchet. The third was a snarky little one by the name of Wasp. 'Smart-aft punk,' he thought as he considered clocking him on the head to shut his rants up. He glanced at Wheeljack, who grinned and signaled that there were two more left.

"Who's next?" he asked tiredly, already annoyed at the first bunch and knowing there were plenty more to go.

"Right 'ere," an orange mech with a boisterous voice said. Once inside, Ratchet proceeded with the protocol interrogation.

"What's your name, cadet?"

"Ironhide, sir."

"First mistake, sparkling. DON'T call me sir," he growled, "Anything you want to tell me before I proceed?"

"Ya have a nice aft for an old bot," Ironhide smirked jokingly, further aggravating the doctor and causing Wheeljack to choke a laugh.

"Do yourself a favor boy," he said, raising a wrench tentatively (causing most of the medbay to be vacated in mere seconds), "and be quiet for the rest of the check up, or I will gladly demonstrate how this can cause your head to cave in with just one hit."

After a second of blissful silence, the caded challenged the notion, "I ain't like the rest of 'em, I'm not afraid of you."

"Oh really?" Ratchet asked as he worked on the dorsal area, curiousity piqued; either this Ironhide fellow was deaf to rumors and complaints or just incredibly stupid.

"Yeah, in fact, I think yer just a cranky, washed up medbot…OW!!" he proceeded to explain, interrupted by Ratchet's painful clutch and pull of several wires in his shoulder. He turned around and faced a grinning Ratchet, holding a few of them in his hand. "What the Pit was that for!?"

"You had such a nasty knot, I couldn't resist," he chuckled slyly, eliciting an angry growl from the cadet. "Drink some of this energon and you'll be good in the next mega-cycle," he prescribed, holding out a flask of said substance and shooing him out. In came the last cadet, a loud one by the name of Bumblebee, and out he came out not too long after, kicked out by the doctor himself.

"AND STAY OUT YOU LITTLE HEADACHE!"

"What's his problem?" the yellow 'bot complained after rubbing his dented posterior. He turned to the others, but only Ironhide replied with a chuckle.

"He's just grumpy 'cause he hasn't gotten any action since the war, know what I mean?" he laughed, earning a dangerously close call with a familiar wrench. "HA, YOU MISSED!"

"He's right, y'know," Wheeljack said grinning.

"Mute it," Ratchet grumbled.