“Sir, I must apologize. I know I haven’t been at my best lately and--”
Optimus raised his optic ridges in alarm and leaned forward to put a hand on First Aid’s shoulder, stopping him mid-apology. “First Aid, that’s not why I called you here. Your performance of your duties, as always, has been exemplary.”
Ratchet bopped First Aid very lightly on the helm. “Where on Cybertron did you get the idea that this was a disciplinary hearing?”
First Aid blinked, then regarded his mentor with a hint of amusement. “Is it another ‘First Aid needs to take all of his allotted time off’ meeting then? Because I thought we had agreed to disagree. ”
Optimus laughed. “No, this has nothing to do with your performance, or over performance, as the case may be. In fact we...have some news,” Optimus said, glancing at Ratchet, and at the sudden serious note in his voice First Aid gave him his full attention, all levity set aside.
“Not...not the Aerialbots, or..”
Optimus shook his head, moving quickly to reassure him. “They and Wheeljack and Ironhide are all fine, do not fear. In fact, we received a transmission from them only a joor ago, regarding the...success, of their mission.”
First Aid smiled, pleased and relieved to hear it but puzzled all the same. What did their classified mission have to do with him? Unless Optimus and Ratchet wanted to reassure him that they would be returning soon, which would be kind of them but hardly meriting such formality. And why was Optimus Prime looking at him with such an odd expression, half smiling and yet deeply concerned all at the same time? First Aid focused his attention as Optimus began speaking again…
...and finished sanitizing another empty energon infusion packet. His hands were shaking, but First Aid persevered, making sure the packet was completely sterile and neatly folded. They couldn’t afford to waste resources.
“Aid.”
Someone was talking to him. Had been talking to him for awhile. First Aid tried to make his thoughts focus, but it was so hard, hard to even make the effort. He picked up another infusion packet but his hands fumbled, trying to unfold it. He vented more quickly, panic moving through his spark. His hands wouldn’t work, his thoughts wouldn’t work...someone took the packet and unfolded it for him, and their hand stayed, pressing gently on his arm. Ratchet.
“Ratchet.”
“It’s ok, Aid. You’re ok.”
“Ratchet...what…” He managed to focus his optics on Ratchet’s concerned face.
“You’re ok, Aid,” Ratchet said again. “That was our fault. We shouldn’t have...well, I guess we’ll have to just wait a little longer, until Wheeljack and the others get back.”
Realization struck, and First Aid let his hands drop, appalled, as his processor finally kicked back in gear. “I...I walked out of a meeting with Optimus.”
“It was not your fault, First Aid. Do not reproach yourself.” First Aid turned around, startled, as Optimus Prime’s voice came from behind him.
“Oh, but, sir--”
Optimus put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him gently close in a hug, and First Aid leaned in and wrapped his own arms around Prime’s torso as far as he could reach, surprised but in no way loath. He sighed as the trembling eased, Optimus’s spark and arms both warm around him. After awhile he stirred, but Optimus murmured in protest and First Aid relaxed and snuggled in closer. Poor Optimus! He must have really needed hugs…
First Aid didn’t remember falling into recharge. He awoke much later to the faces of two scowling, worried frontliner twins, sandwiched cozily between them. His processor still felt somewhat muzzy and strange, but his spark, for the first time in a very long time, barely hurt at all.
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