you know you are as small as the things you let annoy you {backdated before robot prom}

[asafepairofhands]

It's a little while after Sixshot has dug all of the medics up from whatever underground art bunker they had been briefly trapped in, miraculously without anyone killing each other, and Ratchet is back in the medibay at work. He is still half-legless and especially foul-tempered, especially considering the upcoming festivities, which he plans to avoid as completely as possible.

COME BOTHER HIM



[CLOSED TO RODIMUS]
It's not long after the medics are back that Ratchet sends a message to Rodimus privately, apropos of what seems like nothing.

Come to the medibay. I need to check something.

Comments

[planate]

It's been a while and several near-buried in rocks experiences since Pipes had last been to the medibay, he decides it's time to have a check up. It would have to happen eventually, he might as well minimize the yelling while he can.

He wanders in, assuming he didn't have to call and make an appointment. Seeing Ratchet is good, seeing him missing a leg, not so much.

"Is it, like, a new medic trend to be missing a limb or something?" he states, half wondering who would be stupid enough to try and kill the only medics either present or willing to work on anyone.

[asafepairofhands]

"Hello, Pipes," Ratchet says, only sounding mild-to-moderately annoyed. "Yeah, Tarn started the trend and Pharma apparently picked it right up. Please steer clear of them as much as possible." He carefully does not look at the mangled remains at his leg lying on one of the tables, wires stripped and plating peeled up. His optics narrow, refocusing.

"Everything all right?"

[planate]

"Oh, I-- hadn't even realised Pharma was here. Guess I'm doing something right, then."

He forces an awkward, stilted laugh. Of course, Pipes doesn't know the history between Ratchet and Pharma but he does remember Pharma making that disease that made him really sick. What a jerk.

"Mostly? I think I swallowed a rock. Somehow." By not learning his lesson about not exploring precarious debris. "We really need a giant vacuum or something," he says, not so subtly looking right at The Leg.

[asafepairofhands]

"I'm almost impressed," Ratchet grouses, stumping forward and knocking lightly at Pipes with his crutches to scoot him out of the way as he goes to push around in the scattered, dented, motley assortment of equipment they've managed to cobble together. "Yeah, he's been making himself scarce ever since he sawed First Aid's arm off, so good for him." He eyes Pipes, lips compressing. "I'm tempted to get Megatron to take you by the ankles and shake you until it comes rattling out of your intake, spare everyone else the trouble."

[planate]

That gets a small squeak out of him. "I'm as impressed and slash or annoyed that I managed to do it, too, but getting Megatron involved is a bit much, don't you think?"

Someone, please tell him about baby Megatron's medic training.

[asafepairofhands]

Ratchet watches Pipes' face for a moment, before he snorts softly.

"Not the Megatron from our time. There's one here--he's from the past, before... well, pretty much anything happened. He's been training here since a little after I arrived."

[planate]

"Would that be a very special Ratchet-only skill set he'd never learn from anyone else?" he asks, cocking his head.

Not touching the fact that it's MEGATRON in general, but Pipes figures if Ratchet trusts him then sure whatever why not. Not to mention Sixshot didn't murder him... maybe this is an alternate dimension where Decepticons aren't as homicidal.

[asafepairofhands]

Ratchet shrugs a little.

"Just on-the-job field training, same as any new medic gets. First Aid's been helping out. He's all right, Pipes--honestly. I wouldn't let him hang around if he wasn't. All right?" Ratchet takes a hand off one crutch and squeezes Pipes' shoulder briefly before one corner of his mouth quirks up. "Even if I do have him shake you by your ankles to get rid of a rock you 'mysteriously' somehow swallowed."

[planate]

"I do trust your judgement, you know. It's just... weird to think of him as a medic, I guess. Even before the whole. War. Thing."

He snorts at the rock comment, though. "It was quite a feat without a mouth, lemme tell you!"

[asafepairofhands]

"Yeah, tell me about it," Ratchet says, eyeing Pipes ruefully. "I can try to bring it up with a surgical tractor, too, but this isn't going to be fun no matter how we fix it, I'm warning you."

[planate]

"I thought as much," he shrugs. "I really expected it to be..."

He inhales. Pauses for dramatic effect.

"A rocky experience. I'll be more careful next time, I don't want to take your services for granite. Hopefully we can end this with a clean slate to avoid rock bottom. I promise I did not ingest a rock just to make puns."

GUNFINGERS.

[asafepairofhands]

"I'm going to bring Megatron in here and let him use you as a maraca," Ratchet growls, jabbing at Pipes with one of his crutches. "Do you want my help or not?"

[planate]

He can't help but burst out laughing. This is exactly the reaction he expected.

"Yes! Yes, please don't... punish me."

[asafepairofhands]

Ratchet swells slightly, looking furious for a moment, but the sight of Pipes actually laughing deflates him a little until he looks irritated again instead of on the verge of reformatting Pipes into a luggage cart.

"That's an interesting strategy, coming in and deliberately annoying someone you're asking for medical assistance."

[planate]

He assumes it's his wily charm.

"Aw, c'mon. We're friends." Probably.

[asafepairofhands]

That actually softens Ratchet the slightest bit, and he blows a short gust of air from his vents.

"Yeah, yeah, all right. C'mere, then, and let me take a look."

[planate]

No-one can resist the minibot charm. Not even the seasoned veterans like Ratchet. It's official. (It's not.)

He does as he's asked, as usual. What else would he do?