Mini Fic: Don't speak too soon...
Title: Don't speak too soon...
Continuity: G1
Rating: PG
Character(s): First Aid, Ratchet
Warnings: None
Summary: In which Ratchet realises that even First Aid isn't always good.
Notes: Part of the Oath and Covenant AU. Series masterpost here
Disclaimer: Transformers and all related stuff still doesn't belong to me :(
"First Aid? What are you doing?" The youngling is nowhere in sight, although his tracking beacon is still pulsing away in the main section of medbay.
"Painting." The reply is solemn as he appears around the edge of a berth, an airbrush in hand.
"Okay." I turn back to updating my reports as he disappears again. At least he is doing something constructive that will help him later on. Although painting isn't exactly a medical field, it usually falls to us to do any touch ups after we have finished putting mechs back together.
Now if only the rest of his gestalt would be so easy to deal with.
Last time I saw Prime he had looked ready to tear his own audial recievers off, even his infinite patience having given out, the limpet usually found attached to one of his shoulders quite firmly in the 'why?' stage.
Groove had been wearing even Hound's tracking abilities down until the tracker had brought the small nature lover into the medbay and demanded I put a tracking device onto him so that he could find him rather than having to go hunt. That hadn't sounded like a bad plan and I'd added a small beacon to all of the gestalt members just in case.
Streetwise on the other hand was doing his best. He had even helpfully rearranged Prowl's datapads. Into shape, size and colour. The tactician was still trying to find things several weeks on.
And Blades has discovered the joys of flight and quite a lot of the crew are becoming adept at a modified form of jetjudo involving the small rotary being plucked out of the air as he buzzes around the corridors.
No. Compared to his brothers First Aid is no trouble at all. He doesn't try and escape his lessons, he doesn't try and rearrange the medbay tools, and any questions he has are well thought out and relative to whatever we are dicussing. He is also calm, not prone to running around and shouting, and most importantly, he can amuse himself while myself and Hoist are busy with reports.
"Ratchet?"
"Hey Blaster. Steeljaw's good to go, it was just a couple of worn out gears that needed replacing." Blaster nodded, his optics bright with amusement.
"Have you been in here since the surgery?"
I nodded as I reflexively glanced at the berth's readout on my secondary monitor that held the feline shaped symbiote. Nothing had changed and all was well within acceptable operating parameters. "Why?"
Blaster just shook his helm, his armour vibrating ever so slightly with suppressed laughter and I had a sudden sense of foreboding wash through my circuitry. I had forgotten to ask one very important question earlier.
Getting up I edged around the now chortling symbiote master and peered out into my medbay.
I reset my optics.
Then do it a second time for good measure.
Steeljaw just gave me shrug, resignation clear in the set of his very neon pink and lime green shoulders as the bright yellow and blue banded tail flicked back and forth behind the multicoloured armour.
Next time, I have to remember to ask First Aid what he is painting.
Continuity: G1
Rating: PG
Character(s): First Aid, Ratchet
Warnings: None
Summary: In which Ratchet realises that even First Aid isn't always good.
Notes: Part of the Oath and Covenant AU. Series masterpost here
Disclaimer: Transformers and all related stuff still doesn't belong to me :(
"First Aid? What are you doing?" The youngling is nowhere in sight, although his tracking beacon is still pulsing away in the main section of medbay.
"Painting." The reply is solemn as he appears around the edge of a berth, an airbrush in hand.
"Okay." I turn back to updating my reports as he disappears again. At least he is doing something constructive that will help him later on. Although painting isn't exactly a medical field, it usually falls to us to do any touch ups after we have finished putting mechs back together.
Now if only the rest of his gestalt would be so easy to deal with.
Last time I saw Prime he had looked ready to tear his own audial recievers off, even his infinite patience having given out, the limpet usually found attached to one of his shoulders quite firmly in the 'why?' stage.
Groove had been wearing even Hound's tracking abilities down until the tracker had brought the small nature lover into the medbay and demanded I put a tracking device onto him so that he could find him rather than having to go hunt. That hadn't sounded like a bad plan and I'd added a small beacon to all of the gestalt members just in case.
Streetwise on the other hand was doing his best. He had even helpfully rearranged Prowl's datapads. Into shape, size and colour. The tactician was still trying to find things several weeks on.
And Blades has discovered the joys of flight and quite a lot of the crew are becoming adept at a modified form of jetjudo involving the small rotary being plucked out of the air as he buzzes around the corridors.
No. Compared to his brothers First Aid is no trouble at all. He doesn't try and escape his lessons, he doesn't try and rearrange the medbay tools, and any questions he has are well thought out and relative to whatever we are dicussing. He is also calm, not prone to running around and shouting, and most importantly, he can amuse himself while myself and Hoist are busy with reports.
"Ratchet?"
"Hey Blaster. Steeljaw's good to go, it was just a couple of worn out gears that needed replacing." Blaster nodded, his optics bright with amusement.
"Have you been in here since the surgery?"
I nodded as I reflexively glanced at the berth's readout on my secondary monitor that held the feline shaped symbiote. Nothing had changed and all was well within acceptable operating parameters. "Why?"
Blaster just shook his helm, his armour vibrating ever so slightly with suppressed laughter and I had a sudden sense of foreboding wash through my circuitry. I had forgotten to ask one very important question earlier.
Getting up I edged around the now chortling symbiote master and peered out into my medbay.
I reset my optics.
Then do it a second time for good measure.
Steeljaw just gave me shrug, resignation clear in the set of his very neon pink and lime green shoulders as the bright yellow and blue banded tail flicked back and forth behind the multicoloured armour.
Next time, I have to remember to ask First Aid what he is painting.