Ow
Jazz unshuttered his optics and frowned at the ceiling of his quarters, feeling confused as to how he'd gotten there when the last thing he remembered was chasing Bumble around the rec room. Then his brow plates drew together as he became aware of a deep ache throughout his body. "Nng. Owwww...."
"Just take it easy, old man. Ratchet's on his way," rumbled Dreadnought.
Jazz blinked and turned his head slightly. "What happened? Where's Bumble?"
"She's with Gen 'n Psych." His son frowned down at him. "And part of your processor blew up."
"...They can do that?" Jazz went 0_o
"Looks like it. It cut power to half your servos."
"Processor stroke." The silver mech let the shutters drop over his optics again. "Slag. I ain't that old."
"You've taken a lot of hits, old man." Dreadnought rumbled. "Try and get some more recharge. You need it."
"Slaggin' scans...." Jazz grimaced slightly as the dull ache increased, thinking that there was no way he was going to be able to sleep like this.
* * *
"Just keep him in bed, and his self repair will take care of it. The processor's a tricky thing to tamper with."
"What if it happens again?"
"Then we'll deal with that eventuality when it comes."
Jazz turned groggy optics toward Dreadnought's angry rumbling. "How long I got, Doc?"
Ratchet turned to give him a stern look. "If you let yourself heal your prognosis is no different from the last time you asked. Push yourself too hard... and you won't survive to see the spring."
"Bed it is." The silver mech wearily let air out of his intakes and moved his head slightly. "Gonna need a sitter fer Bumble...."
"Don't worry 'bout it, old man. We got her." Dreadnought was frowning down at Ratchet. "We got you too."
Ratchet frowned back at him, then put both hands on the younger mech's wrist as Dreadnought suddenly grabbed him by the neck and and slammed him against the wall, making it ring like a massive gong.
"Hey what...." Skydive peeked into the room and went wide-eyed. "Whoa! Dread's slagging Ratchet!"
"I asked you how long he's got." Dreadnought's voice was a low growl.
Ratchet's scowl was deep. "That's between Jazz and myself, unless he decides to tell you."
"How long??" Dreadnought gave him another thump.
"Dready!" Jazz winced as the sound seemed to go through his whole system. "Put... put 'im down, kid. We need 'im in one piece."
His son glared down at him with blazing optics, but then set the medic down gently enough.
"He doesn't need this stress." Ratchet shook his head disapprovingly, then nodded to Jazz before walking out and nearly running into a frantic Fireflight.
"C'mere." Jazz gestured with the hand that still worked. "Down here where I kin reach."
Dreadnought inhaled deeply and pushed away the desire to destroy something, then turned and knelt beside his creator's berth, those soft brown optics he'd inherited from him showing his unhappiness and pain. "I don't wanna say goodbye yet, old man. I just found you."
"Then lemme rest, 'n you'll have me for at lest another couple hundred years." Jazz gave him a crooked grin. "I ain't gonna ditch ya, kid. You 'n Bumble 'n Gen 'n Cali 'n the others need me. Don't worry, alright?"
The younger mech rumbled unhappily, his engine letting out a low growl like an angry great cat, but nodded. "Yessir."
"Good." Jazz got the other half of his grin to work. "Now go cuddle Gen or somethin'... lemme sleep."
"Alright." Dreadnought pulled up his leg preparatory to rising.
"Love you, Dready." Jazz's voice dropped to a whisper as he stopped fighting the painkiller torpor and sank into recharge.
Dreadnought stared at him for a long moment, his optics oddly bright.
Then he settled himself back onto his skid plate to watch over his creator's rest, communicating with his mate through their bond and feeling buoyed by her affection and support.
"Love you too, old man," he managed at last.
"Just take it easy, old man. Ratchet's on his way," rumbled Dreadnought.
Jazz blinked and turned his head slightly. "What happened? Where's Bumble?"
"She's with Gen 'n Psych." His son frowned down at him. "And part of your processor blew up."
"...They can do that?" Jazz went 0_o
"Looks like it. It cut power to half your servos."
"Processor stroke." The silver mech let the shutters drop over his optics again. "Slag. I ain't that old."
"You've taken a lot of hits, old man." Dreadnought rumbled. "Try and get some more recharge. You need it."
"Slaggin' scans...." Jazz grimaced slightly as the dull ache increased, thinking that there was no way he was going to be able to sleep like this.
* * *
"Just keep him in bed, and his self repair will take care of it. The processor's a tricky thing to tamper with."
"What if it happens again?"
"Then we'll deal with that eventuality when it comes."
Jazz turned groggy optics toward Dreadnought's angry rumbling. "How long I got, Doc?"
Ratchet turned to give him a stern look. "If you let yourself heal your prognosis is no different from the last time you asked. Push yourself too hard... and you won't survive to see the spring."
"Bed it is." The silver mech wearily let air out of his intakes and moved his head slightly. "Gonna need a sitter fer Bumble...."
"Don't worry 'bout it, old man. We got her." Dreadnought was frowning down at Ratchet. "We got you too."
Ratchet frowned back at him, then put both hands on the younger mech's wrist as Dreadnought suddenly grabbed him by the neck and and slammed him against the wall, making it ring like a massive gong.
"Hey what...." Skydive peeked into the room and went wide-eyed. "Whoa! Dread's slagging Ratchet!"
"I asked you how long he's got." Dreadnought's voice was a low growl.
Ratchet's scowl was deep. "That's between Jazz and myself, unless he decides to tell you."
"How long??" Dreadnought gave him another thump.
"Dready!" Jazz winced as the sound seemed to go through his whole system. "Put... put 'im down, kid. We need 'im in one piece."
His son glared down at him with blazing optics, but then set the medic down gently enough.
"He doesn't need this stress." Ratchet shook his head disapprovingly, then nodded to Jazz before walking out and nearly running into a frantic Fireflight.
"C'mere." Jazz gestured with the hand that still worked. "Down here where I kin reach."
Dreadnought inhaled deeply and pushed away the desire to destroy something, then turned and knelt beside his creator's berth, those soft brown optics he'd inherited from him showing his unhappiness and pain. "I don't wanna say goodbye yet, old man. I just found you."
"Then lemme rest, 'n you'll have me for at lest another couple hundred years." Jazz gave him a crooked grin. "I ain't gonna ditch ya, kid. You 'n Bumble 'n Gen 'n Cali 'n the others need me. Don't worry, alright?"
The younger mech rumbled unhappily, his engine letting out a low growl like an angry great cat, but nodded. "Yessir."
"Good." Jazz got the other half of his grin to work. "Now go cuddle Gen or somethin'... lemme sleep."
"Alright." Dreadnought pulled up his leg preparatory to rising.
"Love you, Dready." Jazz's voice dropped to a whisper as he stopped fighting the painkiller torpor and sank into recharge.
Dreadnought stared at him for a long moment, his optics oddly bright.
Then he settled himself back onto his skid plate to watch over his creator's rest, communicating with his mate through their bond and feeling buoyed by her affection and support.
"Love you too, old man," he managed at last.