TF: Small Spaces
Rating: PG
Series: G1
Pairings: Ratchet/Prowl
Summary: Ratchet has serious misgivings about being stuck on Earth. Prowl, as always, is there to help.
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: This is for the tf_rare_pairing 2013 New Beginnings Challenge, prompt 12 - ‘Things are gonna be okay’.
Feedback makes friends. Flames dealt with by the masters of paranoia and fire, Red Alert and Inferno.
Prowl watched as Ratchet stomped around his small medbay, muttering to himself and rummaging through boxes.
“This isn’t big enough. If we’re going to be stuck here, I need far more space.” He grumbled to himself, listing things on a datapad. Prowl nodded approvingly at that. It seemed that he’d finally gotten Ratchet to understand organisation outside of his medbay. The medic was organised when it came to equipment and everything in his medbay, but outside was another matter entirely. Something that he and Prowl had butted helms on several times before.
“Stop it.” Ratchet snapped at him. Prowl merely tilted his head, more than used to Ratchet’s temper. Ratchet of course, had known he was being watched, and likely what Prowl’s thoughts were.
“My apologies.”
“Apologies.” Ratchet huffed. “Apologies get me nowhere. I can’t work like this!” He flung the datapad down on the lone berth in the medbay and gestured around the small room.
“We have plans to extend into the mountain.” Prowl stepped forward, raising a hand to place on Ratchet’s arm. Ratchet twisted away, avoiding Prowl’s hand.
“Plans. Plans that take time to happen.” He rounded on Prowl. “There’s going to be a battle with the Decepticons and we’re going to take more injuries than I can handle in here. Frag it, they’re going to be lined up along the corridor.”
“Have faith in our comrades.” Prowl murmured, still moving towards Ratchet. This time, Ratchet let him touch him. “Things are going to be all right.” He assured Ratchet. Ratchet’s shoulders slumped.
“How can you be so fragging sure?” He muttered, but there was no heat behind his words.
“Because of the mechs we have with us. Because I believe in them.” Prowl replied, tugging Ratchet towards his chair. He knew full well that the medic had barely recharged since they’d arrived, citing that four million years was long enough for a stasis nap thank you very much.
“We have fighters with us.” Ratchet sighed. “The mechs that can really help with our situation are in stasis, and we don’t have enough energon to wake them. Frag, we barely have enough energon for ourselves at the moment.” Ratchet sat down heavily, a sign of how badly he actually needed to stop and rest.
“Wheeljack is working on that. In the meantime, you need to rest. You do none of us any good working yourself to stasis.” Prowl rebuked him gently. To his credit, Ratchet just nodded, finally admitting that he needed to recharge.
“Fine.” He stood up, swaying briefly, another sign that he was low on energy. Prowl led him out of the medbay and down the corridor to where they were all quartered. Urging Ratchet to sit on one of the temporary berths, he watched as the medic settled himself. He perched on the edge of the berth, resting a hand on Ratchet’s side as the medic struggled to get himself comfortable.
“Rest, things are going to be all right.” He reassured Ratchet again.
“How can you be sure?” Ratchet repeated tiredly.
“Because the order to excavate and create a medbay has already been signed off.” Prowl murmured, pressing a kiss to Ratchet’s helm. “And work will start tomorrow.”
“Thank you.”