Who is this company I keep? Pt 2, "When?"
Continuing the last entry for the ff100 challenge.
Title: Who is this company I keep? Pt 2, "When?"
Rating: G
Pairing: Ironhide/Ratchet
Summary: Crisis meets circumstance but Ratchet still isn't giving up the ghost.
Notes: Not beta'd, as usual.
Who is this company I keep? Pt 2 “When?”
The atmosphere around the academy was frenzied. News had come from Praxis that a bombing attack by an unknown assailant had occurred in the downtown area and that there were mass casualties. The Lord Protector had ordered security forces to the area to attempt and control the situation while the Prime sent in medical and relief teams.
Ratchet was, naturally, furious that he was not selected for the assignment.
“Slag it, Prime. I can -help- with this.” Ratchet stated over the comm unit.
“I know, Ratchet. And I understand your aggravation with the situation-”
“Flaking right, I’m aggravated.”
“Which is why I’m instructing you to select a secondary team. Your mechs.”
“Good, I’ll pick a few and-”
“And you will remain at the Academy.” Optimus stated.
“Prime!”
“While I appreciate your bravado in wanting to assist with this situation, I do not have the luxury of arguing with you on the matter. You may pick a team but you are not to be on it. Do you understand, Ratchet?”
“…Yes, Prime. I understand.” the medic replied, voice resigned but not happy.
“Thank you, old friend. I must go. Peace be.”
“And to you.” Ratchet stated, pausing a moment. “Prime?”
“Yes?”
“I know you’re going. Be careful.”
“Of course.” Prime answered and shut down communications.
Ratchet stared at the comm unit for several long moments before angrily pushing himself away from the desk.
“Slagging pit.” he muttered, rubbing a hand across his face plates with a groan.
“He’s not letting you go, is he?” Ironhide said, walking up behind the still-seated medic.
“Frag off.” Ratchet replied, not even glancing up at the large mech.
“Ratchet, I’m not looking to quarrel with you.”
“Just leave off it, would you?” he said, waving the mech off.
“…fine.” Ironhide said, setting a fresh cube down on the table next to the medic and turning to go.
Ratchet stopped, not expecting the rather dejected tone nor the sudden submission to his request, and spun around in his seat.
“What exactly do you get out of fragging me off?”
“A sentence. Some form of communication.” Ironhide answered, turning back around.
Ratchet simply gave him a dubious look with a non-committal noise.
“And typically a physical removal from your domain coupled with a new dent via whatever isn‘t bolted down to the floor.” he added after half a moment of thought.
The dubious look turned incredulous and somewhat bemused before Ratchet actually chortled.
“Get out of my sight, you old rust bucket.” Ratchet said gruffly, taking the recently-deposited cube and inclining it slightly in mock salute.
Ironhide simply chuckled and exited the med bay, for once, under his own power and willingly. He took a drink from the energon and pondered the very prominent task of selecting personnel to send out to Praxis.
The amusement he’d recently indulged in with the brief, but mildly entertaining, conversation with Ironhide fled and a sense of dread leached it’s way into his frame like acid rain. Signing on to his station, Ratchet decided that there would be no rest for him until he felt some sense of peace with sending anyone into what could very quickly evolve into a war zone.
Several groons later, energon cube still half full, Ratchet was beginning to finalize the selections for the secondary medical response team. With a huff of air through the vents, he pinged his comm system.
“Ratchet to Ironhide.”
“Confirmed. Go.”
“I…need a favor.”
“…I’ll be right down.” Ironhide answered, voice trying to hid some measure of surprise.
“Copy. Out.” Ratchet replied, shutting the system off again, and waited.
Less than a breem passed before the courtesy chime was hit on the doors to the medbay proper.
“Enter.”
The doors parted, admitting the burly mech from the hallway. Ironhide strode up, optics curious.
“You knocked.”
“Shocking, isn’t it?”
“Very.”
“And here you thought I had no manners.”
Ratchet’s sigh and lack of retort of any sort turned Ironhide’s curious gaze to one of guarded concern.
“What is it? What happened?”
“Nothing. Nothing new, anyway.”
“You said you needed a favor?”
“…Yes.”
“Fire away.”
“You’re being awfully cooperative lately.” Ratchet said, cautious.
“Contrary to popular belief, as much as you get on my servos, I don’t like seeing you as an enemy, Ratchet. Now tell me this favor you want.” Ironhide replied
“I’ve had to compile a team to send to Praxis. Secondary medical team.” the medic replied, pausing to gauge Ironhide’s reaction. When the mech’s optic ridge raised in question, he continued. “I want you to go with them. As protection.”
“Ah.” he replied, comprehension dawning.
“They’re not warriors, Ironhide.”
“I know, Ratch, I know. I’ll take care of them.”
“…You scare me when you are this…pliable.”
“And you’re scary when you’re fragged off. I’m simply enjoying and encouraging the reprieve.” came the retort.
“I think you’re just trying to get into my circuitry again.”
“Are you flirting with me, doc?”
“Oh, please. You’re processor is scrambled.”
“Is it? So you really are being such pleasant company to convince me to go to Praxis then?” Ironhide asked, tone only half-serious.
“What? No! I’m just…slagging pit, I’m just-” Ratchet fumbled, righteous confusion evident across his faceplates before finally settling on irritation. “You know how to ruin it, don’t you?”
“I was only kidding with you…”
“I don’t need jokes right now, ‘Hide. I need…” the medic replied, voice aggravated but optics confused.
“Hey, easy. Easy, doc. You have my word. I’ll keep them safe.”
“I know. As much as you twist my wires up, I trust you.” Ratchet said. “To protect them.” he added quickly.
“See? Flirting.”
“You’re just hard up for an interface.”
“I could see an offer in that.”
“Oh, you wish, you over-clocked glitch.” Ratchet stated, chuckling.
“Can I ask you something and expect a straight answer?” Ironhide asked a few moments later.
“That entirely depends on the question.” Ratchet replied.
“When are you going to talk to me?”
Ratchet took in a long draw of air and leveled his optics on Ironhide’s. He knew the mech was referring to one of their more recent blow-by-blow arguments regarding Ratchet’s own past.
“Understand this, because I’m saying it only one time.” Ratchet started, carefully. “There are things that I cannot deal with right now and what you’re asking of me is one of them.”
“Then when?”
“I…don’t know if ever.”
Ironhide released a frustrated air but gave a reluctant nod. “Okay. I’ll drop it. For now.”
“Thank you. Now go rest up. I don’t foresee the team being held here any longer than a pack and go and I don’t feel up to tossing ‘whatever isn’t bolted to the floor’.”
“Fine, fine.” Ironhide said, putting his hands up in a placating manner. “It’s been a long cycle. Refuel with a full ration, would you?” he added, grabbing the old cube and depositing it with the now stale energon on the way out.
He gazed at the now closed doors, curious as to Ironhide’s rather placid behavior as of late but more worried now than he thought he would be by putting the mech on the team. With a huff, Ratchet finalized the report and sent it to Prime.
Title: Who is this company I keep? Pt 2, "When?"
Rating: G
Pairing: Ironhide/Ratchet
Summary: Crisis meets circumstance but Ratchet still isn't giving up the ghost.
Notes: Not beta'd, as usual.
Who is this company I keep? Pt 2 “When?”
The atmosphere around the academy was frenzied. News had come from Praxis that a bombing attack by an unknown assailant had occurred in the downtown area and that there were mass casualties. The Lord Protector had ordered security forces to the area to attempt and control the situation while the Prime sent in medical and relief teams.
Ratchet was, naturally, furious that he was not selected for the assignment.
“Slag it, Prime. I can -help- with this.” Ratchet stated over the comm unit.
“I know, Ratchet. And I understand your aggravation with the situation-”
“Flaking right, I’m aggravated.”
“Which is why I’m instructing you to select a secondary team. Your mechs.”
“Good, I’ll pick a few and-”
“And you will remain at the Academy.” Optimus stated.
“Prime!”
“While I appreciate your bravado in wanting to assist with this situation, I do not have the luxury of arguing with you on the matter. You may pick a team but you are not to be on it. Do you understand, Ratchet?”
“…Yes, Prime. I understand.” the medic replied, voice resigned but not happy.
“Thank you, old friend. I must go. Peace be.”
“And to you.” Ratchet stated, pausing a moment. “Prime?”
“Yes?”
“I know you’re going. Be careful.”
“Of course.” Prime answered and shut down communications.
Ratchet stared at the comm unit for several long moments before angrily pushing himself away from the desk.
“Slagging pit.” he muttered, rubbing a hand across his face plates with a groan.
“He’s not letting you go, is he?” Ironhide said, walking up behind the still-seated medic.
“Frag off.” Ratchet replied, not even glancing up at the large mech.
“Ratchet, I’m not looking to quarrel with you.”
“Just leave off it, would you?” he said, waving the mech off.
“…fine.” Ironhide said, setting a fresh cube down on the table next to the medic and turning to go.
Ratchet stopped, not expecting the rather dejected tone nor the sudden submission to his request, and spun around in his seat.
“What exactly do you get out of fragging me off?”
“A sentence. Some form of communication.” Ironhide answered, turning back around.
Ratchet simply gave him a dubious look with a non-committal noise.
“And typically a physical removal from your domain coupled with a new dent via whatever isn‘t bolted down to the floor.” he added after half a moment of thought.
The dubious look turned incredulous and somewhat bemused before Ratchet actually chortled.
“Get out of my sight, you old rust bucket.” Ratchet said gruffly, taking the recently-deposited cube and inclining it slightly in mock salute.
Ironhide simply chuckled and exited the med bay, for once, under his own power and willingly. He took a drink from the energon and pondered the very prominent task of selecting personnel to send out to Praxis.
The amusement he’d recently indulged in with the brief, but mildly entertaining, conversation with Ironhide fled and a sense of dread leached it’s way into his frame like acid rain. Signing on to his station, Ratchet decided that there would be no rest for him until he felt some sense of peace with sending anyone into what could very quickly evolve into a war zone.
Several groons later, energon cube still half full, Ratchet was beginning to finalize the selections for the secondary medical response team. With a huff of air through the vents, he pinged his comm system.
“Ratchet to Ironhide.”
“Confirmed. Go.”
“I…need a favor.”
“…I’ll be right down.” Ironhide answered, voice trying to hid some measure of surprise.
“Copy. Out.” Ratchet replied, shutting the system off again, and waited.
Less than a breem passed before the courtesy chime was hit on the doors to the medbay proper.
“Enter.”
The doors parted, admitting the burly mech from the hallway. Ironhide strode up, optics curious.
“You knocked.”
“Shocking, isn’t it?”
“Very.”
“And here you thought I had no manners.”
Ratchet’s sigh and lack of retort of any sort turned Ironhide’s curious gaze to one of guarded concern.
“What is it? What happened?”
“Nothing. Nothing new, anyway.”
“You said you needed a favor?”
“…Yes.”
“Fire away.”
“You’re being awfully cooperative lately.” Ratchet said, cautious.
“Contrary to popular belief, as much as you get on my servos, I don’t like seeing you as an enemy, Ratchet. Now tell me this favor you want.” Ironhide replied
“I’ve had to compile a team to send to Praxis. Secondary medical team.” the medic replied, pausing to gauge Ironhide’s reaction. When the mech’s optic ridge raised in question, he continued. “I want you to go with them. As protection.”
“Ah.” he replied, comprehension dawning.
“They’re not warriors, Ironhide.”
“I know, Ratch, I know. I’ll take care of them.”
“…You scare me when you are this…pliable.”
“And you’re scary when you’re fragged off. I’m simply enjoying and encouraging the reprieve.” came the retort.
“I think you’re just trying to get into my circuitry again.”
“Are you flirting with me, doc?”
“Oh, please. You’re processor is scrambled.”
“Is it? So you really are being such pleasant company to convince me to go to Praxis then?” Ironhide asked, tone only half-serious.
“What? No! I’m just…slagging pit, I’m just-” Ratchet fumbled, righteous confusion evident across his faceplates before finally settling on irritation. “You know how to ruin it, don’t you?”
“I was only kidding with you…”
“I don’t need jokes right now, ‘Hide. I need…” the medic replied, voice aggravated but optics confused.
“Hey, easy. Easy, doc. You have my word. I’ll keep them safe.”
“I know. As much as you twist my wires up, I trust you.” Ratchet said. “To protect them.” he added quickly.
“See? Flirting.”
“You’re just hard up for an interface.”
“I could see an offer in that.”
“Oh, you wish, you over-clocked glitch.” Ratchet stated, chuckling.
“Can I ask you something and expect a straight answer?” Ironhide asked a few moments later.
“That entirely depends on the question.” Ratchet replied.
“When are you going to talk to me?”
Ratchet took in a long draw of air and leveled his optics on Ironhide’s. He knew the mech was referring to one of their more recent blow-by-blow arguments regarding Ratchet’s own past.
“Understand this, because I’m saying it only one time.” Ratchet started, carefully. “There are things that I cannot deal with right now and what you’re asking of me is one of them.”
“Then when?”
“I…don’t know if ever.”
Ironhide released a frustrated air but gave a reluctant nod. “Okay. I’ll drop it. For now.”
“Thank you. Now go rest up. I don’t foresee the team being held here any longer than a pack and go and I don’t feel up to tossing ‘whatever isn’t bolted to the floor’.”
“Fine, fine.” Ironhide said, putting his hands up in a placating manner. “It’s been a long cycle. Refuel with a full ration, would you?” he added, grabbing the old cube and depositing it with the now stale energon on the way out.
He gazed at the now closed doors, curious as to Ironhide’s rather placid behavior as of late but more worried now than he thought he would be by putting the mech on the team. With a huff, Ratchet finalized the report and sent it to Prime.