The Good Stuff
Title: The Good Stuff
Rating: K+
Warnings: (Legally) High-as-a-kite Sunfall. Smooshy Prowl. Nuttin' else. It should be noted that I initially wrote this while recovering from a concussion, so I was sympathizing with Sunfall, I guess. :)
Date: January 2000. (Sunfall was "born" on March 25, 1999, so she's around 10 months old here. For those interested, though it doesn't really matter: It's two months after "Confessional.")
I awoke, curled on my side, feeling curiously floaty and not entirely present, as if my brain was only partially connected to my body. As my vision slowly cleared and sharpened, I realized that the indistinct black and white blob in front of me was actually Prowl sitting in a chair next to my berth. He was poking intently at a datapad, probably working. I shifted position slightly, my body slow to respond and heavy, and Prowl started at the negligible noise that my movement made, turning his head sharply to look over at me. Immediately setting the pad aside, he scooted his chair around so that he was directly facing me, and then, leaning forward, he regarded me attentively. His expression was unusually soft.
"Hey," he said quietly, his voice possibly more tender than I'd ever heard it. "How are you feeling?"
I thought about Prowl's question for a moment, trying to think of how best to describe my current condition and the odd, disconnected sensations that I was experiencing. It took longer than it should have. My thought processes were far from clear, felt deeply sluggish. It wasn't unpleasant, though. Mining Claire's memories to see if she'd ever experienced anything similar, I discovered that my condition was very much like being drunk on alcohol, only without the nausea and the stupidity.
Well, without the nausea, anyway.
"M'fuzzy," I finally and drowsily answered, deciding that that was as close to an accurate description as I was going to get in my current, deeply stupid state. "But happy!" I amended with a loopy, drunken smile.
Prowl smiled back. He chuckled, even. I'd made him laugh without even trying…
"That's because," he was informing me, "Ratchet gave you a nice hefty dose of the really good stuff."
"Ratchet?" I questioned, blinking in confusion. It was only then that I realized that I was currently in the medbay. On a medical berth. In one of the small private, equipment-stuffed rooms reserved for more seriously-injured patients who required closer and more long-term monitoring. The monitoring equipment in the room with me was turned on, quietly sighing and beeping away. It was only then that I realized that the equipment was monitoring me. Which meant that…
"Oh," I said, feeling slightly more intelligent all of a sudden but also slightly, faintly alarmed, a feeling which likely would have been much stronger had the Good Stuff not been dulling and fuzzifying everything. Still, the alarm must have shown on my face.
"It's all right," Prowl immediately reassured me, his voice incredibly soft. He reached one hand forward to stroke my cheek soothingly. I closed my eyes, reveling in the sensation. "You took a bit of a hit and have a little hole in your back," he was explaining. "But you're going to be just fine in three or four days."
"Mmmm," I murmured, opening my eyes slowly again, only to discover that my vision was fuzzy again. Like the rest of me. "If Ratchet felt a need to give me the really good stuff," I said sleepily, "I'm betting that the hole isn't very little."
Prowl half-smiled at that.
"Welllllll…" he temporized, "I suppose I probably wouldn't bet against you on that."
I snorted tiredly at that and said, "Yet another stellar performance from Sunfall, then. Are you ready to disown me yet?"
"Hardly," Prowl huffed. "You actually had a fairly good day, up until the very end. It's just that…Well, Soundwave had a slightly better day."
"Mmmm," I grumble-murmured at that, as I felt drugged stupor inexorably tugging me back down into happy temporary oblivion. "I'll get him," I added, my voice slurring. "And his little cat, too."
Since I'd only recently introduced Prowl to the delightful hallucinogenic drug trip that was The Wizard of Oz, just to see how badly it would fry his circuits, he caught the reference. His quiet, chuckling laughter was the last thing I heard as my world abruptly faded to black again. It was actually a very nice way to lose consciousness.
Rating: K+
Warnings: (Legally) High-as-a-kite Sunfall. Smooshy Prowl. Nuttin' else. It should be noted that I initially wrote this while recovering from a concussion, so I was sympathizing with Sunfall, I guess. :)
Date: January 2000. (Sunfall was "born" on March 25, 1999, so she's around 10 months old here. For those interested, though it doesn't really matter: It's two months after "Confessional.")
I awoke, curled on my side, feeling curiously floaty and not entirely present, as if my brain was only partially connected to my body. As my vision slowly cleared and sharpened, I realized that the indistinct black and white blob in front of me was actually Prowl sitting in a chair next to my berth. He was poking intently at a datapad, probably working. I shifted position slightly, my body slow to respond and heavy, and Prowl started at the negligible noise that my movement made, turning his head sharply to look over at me. Immediately setting the pad aside, he scooted his chair around so that he was directly facing me, and then, leaning forward, he regarded me attentively. His expression was unusually soft.
"Hey," he said quietly, his voice possibly more tender than I'd ever heard it. "How are you feeling?"
I thought about Prowl's question for a moment, trying to think of how best to describe my current condition and the odd, disconnected sensations that I was experiencing. It took longer than it should have. My thought processes were far from clear, felt deeply sluggish. It wasn't unpleasant, though. Mining Claire's memories to see if she'd ever experienced anything similar, I discovered that my condition was very much like being drunk on alcohol, only without the nausea and the stupidity.
Well, without the nausea, anyway.
"M'fuzzy," I finally and drowsily answered, deciding that that was as close to an accurate description as I was going to get in my current, deeply stupid state. "But happy!" I amended with a loopy, drunken smile.
Prowl smiled back. He chuckled, even. I'd made him laugh without even trying…
"That's because," he was informing me, "Ratchet gave you a nice hefty dose of the really good stuff."
"Ratchet?" I questioned, blinking in confusion. It was only then that I realized that I was currently in the medbay. On a medical berth. In one of the small private, equipment-stuffed rooms reserved for more seriously-injured patients who required closer and more long-term monitoring. The monitoring equipment in the room with me was turned on, quietly sighing and beeping away. It was only then that I realized that the equipment was monitoring me. Which meant that…
"Oh," I said, feeling slightly more intelligent all of a sudden but also slightly, faintly alarmed, a feeling which likely would have been much stronger had the Good Stuff not been dulling and fuzzifying everything. Still, the alarm must have shown on my face.
"It's all right," Prowl immediately reassured me, his voice incredibly soft. He reached one hand forward to stroke my cheek soothingly. I closed my eyes, reveling in the sensation. "You took a bit of a hit and have a little hole in your back," he was explaining. "But you're going to be just fine in three or four days."
"Mmmm," I murmured, opening my eyes slowly again, only to discover that my vision was fuzzy again. Like the rest of me. "If Ratchet felt a need to give me the really good stuff," I said sleepily, "I'm betting that the hole isn't very little."
Prowl half-smiled at that.
"Welllllll…" he temporized, "I suppose I probably wouldn't bet against you on that."
I snorted tiredly at that and said, "Yet another stellar performance from Sunfall, then. Are you ready to disown me yet?"
"Hardly," Prowl huffed. "You actually had a fairly good day, up until the very end. It's just that…Well, Soundwave had a slightly better day."
"Mmmm," I grumble-murmured at that, as I felt drugged stupor inexorably tugging me back down into happy temporary oblivion. "I'll get him," I added, my voice slurring. "And his little cat, too."
Since I'd only recently introduced Prowl to the delightful hallucinogenic drug trip that was The Wizard of Oz, just to see how badly it would fry his circuits, he caught the reference. His quiet, chuckling laughter was the last thing I heard as my world abruptly faded to black again. It was actually a very nice way to lose consciousness.