Author's Note: XD Just a little crazy idea that came to me (one of my favourite pairings I wanted to do a little something for) Feel free to make requests for things XD if my writing pleases. I'm always up for a challenge XD ^^ please review!
Disclaimer: Sadly I don't own anything except the plot XD
"IF YOU FRAGGING EVER…!" The voice thundered down the corridor followed by the heavy clatter of several repair tools coming flying out of the Medbay doors striking the opposite wall and leaving more dents in the already badly battered wall plating. Two brightly coloured bots were ducking and weaving, escaping the oddly bad aim of the Medic within, laughing gleefully to themselves as they sped away down the corridor, turning the corner and disappearing out of sight. Clearly they had succeeded in whatever recent prank they had been able to pull on the poor overworked Ratchet.
First Aid winced at the stream of language that was coming from the other side of the door, which was quite loud enough to hear if he were still two corridors away. Several finished reports were tucked under one slender arm, the little Medic sighing softly, before he was reaching down to pick up the tools to return them to Ratchet and take a look at what damage had been done this time. It would probably take the next joor to cool the Medic down, not that he minded…
The doors hissed softly for him, recognising his presence and responding immediately, his stabiliser servos sounded lightly on the flooring as he was carefully setting the tools back down onto a nearby tray, only to end up ducking sharply as a wrench was flung at his head. Aid had never had a wrench thrown at him before, but was use to things flying at him when the twins decided to prank him… Pale blue optics hidden under a tinted visor blinked slightly as his head turned towards the Medic, startled by what he saw…
"You think you can sneak back in here don't you? You fragging piece of slag, Sunstreaker. You might have managed to blind me, but I can still hear you." Several more tools were being flung with the same inaccuracy… Ratchet never missed… his aim was always perfect… "GET OUT!"
The Medic's face was half turned towards First Aid, a hand reaching upwards and still lightly touching something that covered his optics and half his face. A thick gel slickly slid down over handsome cheek struts, slopping over and down onto the floor in tiny drips, and the faint sickly sweet scent of it confirmed Aid's fears. Neural Blocker gel was spread across that face, irritating and numbing different parts of the Mech's face but severely affecting those optics… which were dull grey and powered down in an attempt to prevent the raw pain of his irritated optical sensor relays from overloading.
'Ratchet to First Aid.' His internal comm link buzzed to life, the little medic half frozen for an instant before he was bolting across the Med bay, picking up things as he went, knowing he had to treat Ratchet immediately. He was cursing himself his hesitation, but it was the actual call that had caught his Spark, when Ratchet was injured… it was always First Aid he would call. Not Wheeljack, Fixit, Hoist or Grapple… but just him. 'I require your assistance… urgently.'
"I'm here Ratchet." The little Medic spoke up, dumping the objects onto the tray and his small hands were reaching out for Ratchet, sliding up one long arm softly, reassuring that he was there. A large hand gripped his wrist lightly, holding him there as if his life depended on it, his head twisting sharply trying to focus his attention on the Mech before him… Those large fingers sliding lightly along the sensitive joint cabling, reassuring himself by the familiar pulse of the Protectobot's systems that it was indeed him.
"The Twins…"
"Sit please…" He was guiding the big frame into the chair before him so he would be able to reach the Mech's face, the small medic standing between Ratchet's parted knees joints. A small shiver ripped through his frame when he realised just how close he was to the other Mech, his head dipping slightly, a flutter of raw circuit endings tingled through his frame. "Its Neural Blocker Gel, Ratchet." He was turning slightly picking up a sponge soaked in solvent, the smell was awful but it would clean off the sticky mess. "Hold still…" Slender fingers curled around the strong jaw, which was clenched slightly, tipping the Medic's head towards him, with a deep rush of sympathy welling up within him. Aid would have given the Medic a sensor blocker for the pain… but he knew if he did he wouldn't know if the treatment was working or not.
Slowly the sponge was being brushed across the handsome face, lightly removing the largest globs, but Ratchet's sensitive olfactory sensor twitched sharply at the smell, an almost horrified noise escaped his vocal capacitors. It stank. It stank worse then an uncleaned Dinobot… The head attempted to draw back, even though he knew he needed to stay perfectly still… But that… that smell…
A soft little sigh, and his grip tightened just a little, drawing that head back in, continuing the slow brush of the sponge over those features, the back of his fingers lightly grazing the warm metal, making the big Mech shudder ever so slightly in response.
"The wrench…" A slightly pained expression flickered across the handsome features, the echoes of guilt flashing across facial plates, his lips turning into a slight frown. And First Aid almost jumped out of his armour when a hand brushed up against his side, moving upwards over his pale white and red armour, searching for something… Light and almost trembling. "Aid… I…"
Ratchet never threw wrenches at First Aid, never raised his voice and had never once being angry with the young Medic ever. It was unspoken law. First Aid had been apprenticed to him for a time before really coming into his own, his skills all that Ratchet could have ever hoped for and more. He had craved the times they would spend working side by side, the Medbay filled with his own rough cursing and the soft compassionate words of the Protectobot. Two so different personalities that meshed so well, the Bay bad become almost cold with the absence of his friend… The only Medic Ratchet would trust with his repairs.
A smile came to those lips and he actually pressed into the hand that lingered against a spinal plate, lightly brushing back and forth feeling the slow elegant moves of the little Mech, checking to see that everything worked perfectly. "You didn't hit me, missed by quite some distance." Those fingers were still moving, still worried, concerned that he had even scratched the slender frame. "I'm okay, really."
Before he was focusing on Ratchet again, most of the gel had dissolved into a gritty white paste with the application of the solvent, before he was doing a quick optical scan, noting that there was a significant amount in and around those optics still, enough to worry him. But he was tipping Ratchet's head down, and they were so close he could feel the faint heated air fluttering across his features softly.
"So sorry." It was barely above a whisper, Ratchet's head drooping and pressing more firmly into First Aid's hand, leaning into the touch, desiring the warmth of those fingers, the reassurance it brought to the darkness that had fallen around Ratchet.
"You have no need to apologise."
"I do. I would never…"
"I know you wouldn't. You never once did, no matter how I screwed up."
"You never fragging screwed up, Aid, not once. You might have missed some things… But even I did when I underwent training. You have been the brightest of my apprentices, the most promising. And you fulfilled every expectation and exceeded them so much I..."
The words sent a wave of startling heat coiling through his systems and settled in his Spark, a compliment… one from Ratchet. Each was sincere and honestly meant and it almost flustered him, his crush on the elder Medic was bigger than Cybertron and he couldn't help but delight in that servo that remained against his back or those soft words and concerns for him. "I'm honoured, Ratchet, honestly honoured. You don't know just how much those words mean to me."
A soft hiss of pain escaped the lime green Mech as the tip of a small scrubbing tool covered with solvent was rubbing about his optics, scrapping away every last molecule of the gel. But still the world remained distinctly dark… His servo pressed against the warm back of the Mech half leaning against him, his head dipping forwards slightly, his audios tuning in to hear the faint sounds of the little Mech's systems, the gentle thrum of that fuel pump, the warm beat of that Spark, the slight shift in gears and parts as he settled back more fully on his stabiliser servos.
"A joor."
"Hmm?" Ratchet was suddenly startled from his observations, his processors tumbling over one another for a moment, jerked back to reality that First Aid was talking to him… The warmth of the slender frame seeping into his chassis, still held close despite the fact that he no longer needed to…
"The scan, your auto-repairs should be able to handle the repairs to your optical sensor relays, I'm sorry about not applying the pain regulator dosage, I just needed to know that it hadn't numbed the sensors…" Which would have spelt major damage, there was a gentle rub of a finger against Ratchet's arm as a piece of armour was shifted slightly and the injector pumped a dose of painkillers into his Energon line.
'First Aid to Hoist.'
There was a slight pause, before the link solidified between the two Mechs. 'Hoist here, what can I do for you?'
'Could I swap shifts with you in Medbay? I know its at such late notice…'
'No problem there, 'Aid. But is there something the matter?'
'No… no. I just have a lot of reports… they've piled up and you know how Ratchet can be about late Reports… With all my work with the Protectobots I seemed to have fallen behind…' The truth was, all his reports sat finished on the tray by the door, he would not let others know what had happened to Ratchet. He knew how much the Medic prided himself on appearances and he would not let the Twins win this battle.
'Indeed I do. No need to explain, I'll sit in on Medbay. Ratchet isn't around is he?'
'I think he's terrorising Prime. So no worries there. Thankyou.'
'Have a good evening First Aid, good luck with that paperwork. Hoist out.'
"I'll get you back to your quarters." His hand lightly brushed against one of those big ones, curling around it shyly and drawing the slightly dazed Ratchet to his feet, almost unbalanced by the weight of him for a moment. "No complaints about duty shifts. I'm relieving you until tomorrow third shift."
A bemused chuckle escaped Ratchet at the sound of the 'command' coming from the shy little Autobot, but he didn't resist it, though he was certain that First Aid had the next shift and Ratchet had been intent on remaining all shift even if it was just in his office, allowing him the chance to sneak some time in with the Mech. "As you order, Sir."
A slight pout touched those innocent half hidden features, his fingers lightly swatting at Ratchet's that still lingered against his shoulder where it had rose to rest lightly against it, squeezing softly. "Don't start that with me. Its not funny…"
"Never said it was." That face tipped down and the smile was growing on Ratchet's mouthplates, that hand suddenly lifting to First Aid's jaw, sliding along a slender strut before coming into contact with his lips, tracing over them. Catching the slight hitch in his intakes at the contact, but didn't pull away, didn't wish to pull away from that touch… "You're pouting."
"Am not." The Mech was suddenly finding himself flustered and the centre of Ratchet's attention, that other hand lifting to slide across his helm stroking over it lightly. "I'm not… Ratchet..."
"You are. And it's such a cute pout too."
"Cute?" Had Ratchet just called him cute? He must be imagining it… Shaking his head slightly, the smaller Medic felt all the air in his chassis catch at his vents when he felt those fingers moving again, tracing out each line of his face. "I'm not cute, Ratchet… My pout, that is if I truly have one is certainly not cute. Annabelle is cute… a small Earth juvenile canine is cute…"
"Then if you insist you are not cute, then I shall have to conclude you are beautiful."
Ratchet was kicking himself, viciously, with his own leg in his aft. He was playing with fire, knowing that he could scare away the little Medic if he continued on with his… 'compliments'. But slag, he wanted to say them, wanted to see… to feel that mech smile at him. He was turning sappy… a giant sappy lump of scrap metal that was desperately in love with his friend.
"Me… beautiful?" A startled laugh escaped the small Mech, shaking his head slightly, but feeling those fingers still gripping his face, curling about his helm softly, a finger brushing lightly against his bottom lip. "No… I think that gel scrambled your memory circuits… Hot Rod is beautiful… Arcee is beautiful… I'm… inelegant… clumsy…"
"The slag you are." His head was ducking in, desperate to see that face… Desperate to know and catch every action, but still his vision remained painfully dark. By Primus… he would give anything to see that face again even just once. "You, First Aid are beautiful, desirable and you have the cutest fragging aft this side of Cybertron."
A startled sound escaped Aid at those words. Ratchet thought his aft was… cute?
"You…"
"You know what I see when I look at you. I see the most beautiful Mech in the slagging universe who is an excellent medic and the most compassionate mech ever built." He caught him up, strong arms sliding around the slender body, the Protectobot coming instantly and easily into Ratchet's embrace, desperate for it. "You're always there… No matter how late… how exhausted you are… You cheer me up. You calm me down… You smooth over all the rough edges with the others. And when you're not here, slag… I can't stop longing for the end of shift so I can find you."
Ratchet always seemed to appear out of the blue, random and always welcome. Greeting Aid in the Rec Room and sitting with him, sharing an engrossing conversation about the latest medical treatments… new data… patients… anything… And First Aid listened to Ratchet talk, a gentle hand sitting against his arm, shifting his chair in closer and whispering words of comfort… of understanding for the pain hidden beneath with the horrors this war brought to them.
"I love you, First Aid. Frag… I… Aid…"
"You love me?" As if he had just been given the world… Aid flung himself forwards, arms looping around the strong neck, pulling that head down almost unbalancing Ratchet in his haste. And his lips found Ratchet's, soft at first, keen to express all the emotions that rushed though him vividly. His body was pinned against the lime green frame, hands were curling about his head, lifting it slightly and a glossa was teasing over his lips, slipping inside his mouth, stealing the air from his chassis. Ratchet was tasting him… burning him up from the inside out. Leaving him desperately clinging to prevent himself from folding into a strutless metal heap on the floor.
"Aid?" Hope flared… brilliant…
"What took you so long? I've loved you forever."
"I was blind… and I couldn't see it. But you've made me unshutter my optics…" A hand caressed down along the slender back, curious and definitely not about to drift away now that Aid was pressing so fully against it… the faintest pur escaping him. "You still have the shift tonight don't you?"
"I traded with Hoist… So right now…" A slender servo brushed up across lime green armour, teasing the edges of it and making Ratchet shiver in desire for the promises passing between them. "I'm free. Can you think of something we could do for the next joor until your sight returns?"
"I can think of something for the next joor and for long after it too…"
"Your quarters?" The slender body slipped under the big arm, tugging Ratchet towards the door. "Or…"
"My quarters… ours if you prefer."
"I was always up for a challenge…"
"Challenge? I'll give you a challenge…"
A yelp of startled pleasure escaped First Aid, before he was swatting at the hand that was sliding against his aft.
"You…"
Author's note: Wandering hands XD who knew? Review please! Love you allXD hope to write again soon.