robothell | [network post--marked urgent]

Entry tags:

ratchet | asafepairofhands

[network post--marked urgent]

Hello? Yeah, all right, it looks like this thing is on.

[The vid flickers on and Ratchet's face fills it, somehow more exasperated and peeved than usual.]

Look, public service health announcement, stay away from the damn stupid flowers that are popping up everywhere. They're releasing a pollen that's hyperconductive that causes an allergic reaction in both organics and inorganics. Nobody's going to drop dead, unless you're set on being a medical miracle and being the first to die of overcharge, but if you're affected, for goodness' sake, be careful until it wears itself out. If you don't release the pent-up charge or whatever periodically it's possible you'll overheat.

If you absolutely need medical assistance, I'm going to be at the first medibay trying to figure out more precisely what the fresh smelting hell is going on.

Ratchet out.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[It's awhile after Ratchet's announcement that Cyclonus contacts him with audio only]

It's not an emergency. May I come in?

[Come in as in 'approach the medibay' not 'please open the door'. He's not even close to the medibamedibay at the moment.

He sounds... Tired.]

[Ratchet sounds worried anyway.]

Yeah--yeah, of course.

[He doesn't ask if Cyclonus is all right. He'll find out soon enough himself.]

[It takes time for him to reach the medibay. Even if he wasn't missing a wing, flight would be a difficult proposition given how much he needs a recharge.

He does his best not to limp, but there's only do much he can do with the ache and throb from his hips and array. It's been a long time since he'd interfaced with Galvatron and he'd been much younger then. And much less angry.

He'd seen to his modesty enough to clean the fluids from his thighs and belly, but he'd done nothing about the various splatters of energon - not all of it his - and transfers of mismatched purple paint.

Battered, bent, and scratched to hell, he finally finds himself at Ratchet's door.]

[Ratchet's puttering around the medibay and (mostly) successfully ignoring his own charge when he hears noise at the door and looks up. He nearly drops what he's holding, the too-warm air punched from his vents.]

Cyclonus.

[He's moving without thinking, all charge forgotten, his optics pale and shocked. He almost opens his mouth to ask what happened but pressed his lips into a thin line instead, his jaw tight. He doesn't ask if Cyclonus is all right, either, not sure if he can handle the answer just now.]

Any serious injuries? [He leans hard on his crutches and touches just his fingertips to Cyclonus' elbow, not pushing him further just yet.]

[Cyclonus is surprised at how worried Ratchet looks. He's come to the medibay looking far worse - dragged unconscious by Tailgate even - and it wouldn't be the first time he's needed medical attention after a... bout with Galvatron. It doesn't occur to him in his tired state how this might look.]

Nothing serious. My energy levels are the most pressing issue.

[Though he'd really like that wing back. He doesn't like being grounded.]

[Ratchet exhales a shuddering vent of air and nods, getting a cube and pressing it into Cyclonus' hand before he starts scanning, his expression tightening the more he sees.]

Let me get that wing patched, and I'll start in on the scratches and dents.

[He's quiet for a moment as he works, his hands gentle.]

...you want to tell me what happened?

[Cyclonus nods his thanks and begins slowly topping off his tanks with sips at the cube. He'll need a proper recharge soon, but this will do for now.

He doesn't answer the question, mouth pressed into a thin line. He's ashamed at having given in to Galvatron, and with so little fight at that, regardless of how rough their coupling had been.]

...I let my base urges get the best of me.

[Ratchet feels that tension in Cyclonus' frame, anger swelling in him helplessly until he can't keep it from spilling into his voice.]

Yeah? Those 'base urges' of yours tear your wing half off, too?

[Cyclonus's fingers twitch, resisting the urge to touch the torn metal.]

Essentially yes.

[He's ashamed of himself, for giving himself to Galvatron again, and worse for enjoying it. The familiarity, the ache, the unbridled power...

Just the memory of it mixed with this infernal pollen has him heating a little once more.]

Fine.

[Ratchet's voice is clipped and short but his hands remain gentle as he repairs the wing, finishing a weld and smoothing slow fingers along it, almost soothing.]

You don't have to tell me who did this to you if you don't want. But stay away from whoever it was until this blows over, at least, please. [He presses a flat palm to Cyclonus' back, his expression tight and his optics dim where Cyclonus can't see as he starts to patch the smaller leaks and tears in plating.] As a favor to me, if nothing else.

[Cyclonus lets a small gust of warm air out of his vents.]

I have no more interest in seeing Galvatron again than I did encountering him to begin with.

[It's not really a secret, he's just grouchy.]

[Ratchet goes quiet a moment.]

Good.

[All the major repairs are finished, but Ratchet moves on to minor ones, his hands careful against Cyclonus' plating as he moves back around to look at him.]

You're welcome to hole up here, if you need somewhere to stay until this is over with.

[The offer has some of the tension leaking out of Cyclonus's frame. Primus, he's tired. Tired and old. But if there's any sanctuary to be found on this strange Cybertron, it's probably here.]

Yes, that sounds... it's a sound plan.

[He pauses for a moment and the corner of his mouth twitches slightly.]

So long as he doesn't come looking here for a replacement optic.

[Ratchet makes a low noise in his vocalizer, half a growl as he pops one of the larger dents he's found.]

If he does, he'll be dealing with me, not you.

[His tone does not suggest this hypothetical encounter would turn out particularly well for Galvatron, crutches be damned.]

[That gets a full on small smile out of Cyclonus, unflinching in the face of popped dents.]

Thank you. Though it would probably best not to test Galvatron's patience.

[Ratchet catches that smile and feels the knot of worry coiled tight and small and hard just above his fuel tank relax a little, his own face easing enough that one corner of his mouth turns up.]

Galvatron hasn't been dealing with people limping into his medibay all damn week whining about paint transfer and heat damage to actuators and friction burns. Consider my patience thoroughly tested.

I apologize for adding to your workload.

[And is somewhat disappointed in himself for needing to seek medical attention. There's only so much one can do about torn wings...]

Huh. You have an actual injury.

[Ratchet is quiet for a moment, his hands still working.]

You don't have anything to apologize for.

I should have avoided it.

[As Ratchet works, he finds his gaze wandering repeatedly over Ratchet's frame. He tries to keep his gaze on the medic's face, only to find his gaze dropping to white lips...

He forces himself to look in the other direction completely. Hadn't his violent tryst with Galvatron burned enough of this infernal contaminant out of his system?!]

Yeah, a whole bunch of us should have done a lot of things this week.

[His lips thin, optics narrowing on the plating under his hands.]

Doesn't make it your fault.

[He wants to argue that point. If he'd been more attentive he could have avoided Galvatron. If he'd had more self-control, perhaps he could have fought him off and saved his dignity.

Instead he had spread his legs eagerly for his old leader, like he had so many times when he was younger. He may have taken an eye and drawn his fare share of energon, but it was hardly more violent than many of their couplings in the past, back when his loyalty to Galvatron remained unyielding.

But he's too tired for arguing, both emotionally and physically, so instead he simply remains silent as his optics dim and tries to ignore the rising warmth beneath his plating.]

[Ratchet fusses--he's fussing now, if he's honest with himself, all the actual repairs are done--for another few moments before he lets his hands slide away from Cyclonus' plating. He takes a long, shaking vent of cool air before he reaches out, resting a palm on Cyclonus' shoulder for a moment.]

It's over and done with now, regardless. You're safe here. Do you need anything else?

[Cyclonus's lips part when Ratchet's hands pull away from him, and a soft noise of disappointment almost escapes him before he catches it.

The hand on his shoulder is much more welcome than it should be, and he finds himself leaning into it.]

I- [Should he ask about the pain in his hips and the ache between his thighs? Not the arousal, the throb that came from a port getting too much, too hard, after too long, with too little preparation...

He looks away.]

Nevermind, it's superficial.

[Ratchet's face darkens, his lips thinning as he squeezes Cyclonus' shoulder briefly.]

If you even considered mentioning it, I doubt it's 'superficial'--and even if it is I still want to know about it, as long as you're willing to tell me.

[A long vent escapes him, gusting warm air from his internals into the room. Interface equipment isn't exactly a necessity, and it's surely nothing his self-repair can't handle...

But then he is getting old, and even when he was young he'd usually gotten a full examination after particularly... energetic bouts with Galvatron.]

My... array

I FIGURED I'D POST THIS HERE THREAD NECROMANCY GO /sweats

LMAO FEEL FREE TO DROP THIS DOUBLE NECROMANCY I AM ASHAMED

I AM SO DOWN TO CLOWN FOREVER

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