TF: Crush
Rating: PG
Series: G1
Pairings: One sided Ratchet/Wheeljack
Summary: Ratchet reflects as he watches over his patients.
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: As per usual, the good things in life are not mine to have, but belong to someone else... in this case Hasbro, Takara and IDW and anyone else I’ve forgotten…
Authors Notes: For the tf_speedwriting Wednesday 28th July prompt 2 - Choose a character, and write a scene in which they convey an emotion through action, with no dialogue.
Feedback makes friends. Flames dealt with by the masters of paranoia and fire, Red Alert and Inferno.
Prompt: 2
Time: 25 minutes
Ratchet paced the medbay, checking on the few patients he was keeping in overnight. His optics kept being drawn back to one berth.
Wheeljack’s.
Sighing, he stood at the foot of the berth, checking the monitors showing Wheeljack’s vitals. All systems working normally. Now. They hadn’t been twelve hours ago when Wheeljack was brought into his medbay. His spark gave a fitful pulse as he remembered the scene. He’d stared at Wheeljack’s chassis for long moments before spurring himself in to action.
And now there was nothing but the quiet of the medbay and the hum of machinery and mechs’ systems. Shaking his head, Ratchet stepped closer, running his fingers along a weld mark on Wheeljack’s arm. The weld was perfect, but the plating beneath wasn’t. Bare metal gleamed through patchy paint, the results of the injuries and subsequent surgery. Maybe, just maybe, Wheeljack would let him repaint him. Maybe. For now, there was little to do but watch and wait until the engineer came out of stasis.
Pulling up a chair, Ratchet sat down, lacing his fingers with Wheeljack’s. Oh the ease with which he could do this while the engineer was offline. If only he had the nerve to do it while he was online. He sat and just watched Wheeljack, listening to the sounds of his systems, reassuring him that the mech would survive.
Eventually, the need to check on the other patients forced Ratchet to stand. Leaning over Wheeljack, he pressed a soft kiss to the engineer’s mask before straightening, not noticing the brief tightening of the fingers interlaced with his. And not noticing the dim blue optics that followed him on his rounds.