1. A song...
Comfortably Numb- Live by Pink Floyd. Lyrics
here.
--- And for everyone's amusement...
Transformers do Gangnam Style. Alludes to Optimus/Elita, but no other pairings. Despite this, it's pretty amusing so highly recommended if you have a chance to watch
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It would be nice, Ratchet actually showing spark felt concern for their injuries. He could fuss over their injuries while crooning over their feats in battle - wait, croon?
Sunstreaker shook his helm as his processors suddenly took a turn to the insane side as images of Ratchet simpering over every little scrape and dent flooded his aching helm. Glaring in the direction of his twin Sunstreaker could only sigh as Sideswipe slumped from anesthesia Ratchet had given him.
Sunstreaker huffed silently and leaned back on the berth, relaxing as much as he could as he watched the spectacle of Ratchet in full medic mode.
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"Frag!" Ratchet snarled the curse as he watched Sunstreaker fall sideways onto the berth. Leaving Sideswipe's arm half attached, he hurried to check on the other Twin.
"Fragging glitching son of a retrorat, why didn't you tell me you were this badly injured?" Ratchet muttered to Sunstreaker's offline form, hurriedly attaching lines for energon and coolant and monitoring his systems.
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"Ratchet?" Wheeljack looked up, concerned at the sudden silence.
"I'm fine." Shaking his head, Ratchet refocussed his attention on the work at hand. Once they were fixed, he could muse on that realisation. And decide what he could or couldn't do.
"Guh, did anyone get the license plate of the truck that hit me?" Sideswipe groaned.
"Devastator." Sideswipe smiled, even though his optics were offline. That voice was as familliar to him as his own brother's.
"Ratch'..."
"Don't you 'Ratch'' me." Ratchet growled and Sideswipe onlined his optics in alarm. He could feel Sunstreaker's steady presence in his spark, so that wasn't the problem. He turned his head to find Ratchet sitting at the side of his berth, looking far worse than he'd ever seen the medic look.
"Ratch'?" This time, Sideswipe's voice was full of concern.
"You two don't even have any idea, do you?" Was Ratchet's muttered reply.
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"You're not alone." Sideswipe added. "Not if you don't want to be." Sunstreaker rolled his optics.
"What my idiot brother is trying to say, is that we like you Ratchet."
"Really like you." Sideswipe put in.
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"Uh, yes?" Sideswipe replied with bright, hopeful optics as Sunstreaker's tentative emotions bled from his features.
"Slag, you're serious." Suddenly feeling defeated and helpless Ratchet sank back into his chair, vents hitching in exhaustion.
"You need to take better care of yourself," Sunstreaker's hand appeared in Ratchet's line of sight setting down a cube of medical grade energon.
"Truce?" Sideswipe asked softly at Ratchet's side. The medic looked to the pair once more leaning casually in the doorway, each slowly sipping their cubes.
"So," Ratchet sighed, "How's this supposed to work?"
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"He doesn't mean like that, idiot. I'd think out of all the mechs on the Ark, a medic would know how to do that" Sunstreaker growled. Sideswipe smiled weakly ( ... )
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