[network post--marked urgent]

[asafepairofhands]

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.

Comments

Video

[triggerhappycopter]

I'm immune!

Video

[asafepairofhands]

Good for you. I don't suppose you'd be thrilled to drop by and provide fluid samples so we can figure out exactly how your immunity works, would you?

[triggerhappycopter]

[Sloooowly, Spinister sinks out of view until all Ratchet could see was his sullen glare and chevrons.]

Do I have to?

[asafepairofhands]

How the hell would I enforce it if I said yes? [He sounds almost entertained.] No, of course you don't have to. Especially since it doesn't seem particularly life-threatening, unless people start dropping dead of embarrassment.

[triggerhappycopter]

I don't know, you might have weird mind powers.

[Squinting. A lot of squinting. Spin is from a faction where the SiC is a literal mindreader, okay.]

But ffffiiiiiinnnnne, I'll come over.

[Cue the most teenager sounding 'ugh' of all time and Spin cutting the line. He shows up ten minutes later at the clinic looking like he hasn't stopped pouting the whole way over.]

[asafepairofhands]

If I had weird mind powers, people would actually show up for their immunizations on time. [Ratchet's muttering, so he barely registers that Spin agreed to drop by before he cuts the comm.]

[He's still a little surprised when Spinister actually shows, but he gathers the scanners and instruments he's going to need. He's on his feet--foot--and functional, but it's obvious that he's affected by the pollen, his cooling fans laboring and his optics far too bright. He leans heavily on his crutches as he finishes spreading what he needs out on a table and jerks his chin at Spinister.]

Come over here, please. This won't take long, and I'd recommend minimizing your contact with the infected in case you've just been somehow miraculously lucky so far. [His voice is rough with static and his fingertips tremble, just barely visibly, as he goes to pick up the first sample tube and tries not to sway in place.]

[triggerhappycopter]

I've had sex with, like, two people.

[Did you want to know that, Ratchet? No? Well now you do anyways!

Spinister obediently sits himself down on whatever it was Ratchet wanted him to be on, watching Ratchet go about getting the sample tubes like a some kind of huge, magenta hawk.]

[asafepairofhands]

What, this week, or ever? [A pause.] Don't answer that, I'm joking.

I'm just going to draw some energon, all right? Give me your elbow, please. [He reaches for Spinister, his hands slow and clearly visible, leaning hard into his crutches.]

I thought you said you weren't affected, though. Or were you just helping out?

[triggerhappycopter]

[Ratchet, don't you want to know all the minute details of Spinister's sex life? Because he was totally about to tell you everything.

Lifting his arm out for Ratchet, the heli watches the way the Autobot medic leans onto his crutches.]

Helping. I'm pretty good with the hand jobs.

[asafepairofhands]

Charitable of you.

[Ratchet takes the samples he needs and sets them in for analysis, then collapses into a stool and pointedly ignores the soft roar of his fans.]

Thank you for doing this. [His voice is sudden and he looks up into Spin's face.] I appreciate it, I mean it. I know it's rough, coming in here and letting an Autobot poke at you, but it could really help us out.

[triggerhappycopter]

[Spinister doesn't reply for a good moment, optics narrowing with something like suspicion. But it was only for a moment and the expression changes into something like amusement.]

Eh, you guys aren't so bad. I'm living with the guy who wants to kill my whole damn team because we harbored some other guy who'd been convicted of cowardice but he survived his sentence because he was too scared to transform into a bomb when he was dropped a few million years ago but we didn't know that when we woke him up trying to siphon some fuel from his fuel pump.

[Breath.]

It's complicated.

[asafepairofhands]

[Ratchet snorts a warm laugh.]

Yeah, well, we try. [He blinks a little, startled.] You know a K-Con? One whose payload didn't blow? That's... [He almost says 'lucky,' then reconsiders.] Good for him, that he bumped into you.

[triggerhappycopter]

Kind of! Like I said, if he hadn't woken up at the time he did, we'd have cut him up for scrap after I'd disabled his payload. He was going to be the find of the day!

Buuut he was alive and he lied to us and got the DJD on our tails, but he made up for it by trying to blow himself up to save us. It was hilarious.

[asafepairofhands]

Lucky for him twice, then, if he--

[Ratchet stops mid-sample-gathering and stares up at Spinister, then jerks his optics back down to finish quickly and patch the small puncture in the line.]

Wait, you disabled his payload? Do you have any idea how difficult a surgery that's supposed to be? They're rigged to go off if tampered with, that's the only reason K-Cons stick around to get tossed out of shuttles in the first place!

[triggerhappycopter]

[Spinister stares at Ratchet. The stare turns into a vaguely suspicious squint as he retracts his arm once the other medic was done patching it up. He breaks eye contact for a few seconds to check over the patch before looking back up at Ratchet with a marginally less suspicious expression and a blase shrug.]

Yeah?

[asafepairofhands]

[Ratchet just looks at him, a little longingly, and it has absolutely nothing to do with the pollen clogging his vents.]

Are you sure you wouldn't consider coming to work with us here? It doesn't even have to be all the time, just--y'know. Door's open.

[triggerhappycopter]

[Spinister's expression darkens and he turns away, shrugging again.]

I've got my end of a deal to keep.

[asafepairofhands]

Yeah, all right. [Amicably.] You're talented, is all. I think you could learn a lot, and vice versa. But I won't harass you about it.

[He lifts the sample and shakes it a little, leaning comfortably into one crutch.]

And I'll let you know if this helps. Or if we get any more information about this mess in general.

[triggerhappycopter]

[Yeah, but coming over to help out the Autobots meant there wasn't much to keep Tarn from going after his teammates if they every arrived. However small the chances of that happening was anyways.]

... Think it's got anything to do with spark type? [This was a bit of a reach, but Spin honestly didn't have the slightest clue why he was immune at all.]

[asafepairofhands]

Mmmmm.

[Ratchet's vocalizer fritzes into static halfway through the noise and he shudders helplessly, heat clawing up the back of his throat before he swallows it down and cycles his vents hard.]

Not sure. I've been cross-referencing everything I can think of, including that, but it's affecting organics too, from what I can tell, and I can't think why that would make a difference. I certainly haven't ruled it out, though. [He sounds briefly, unbearably frustrated, both in body and mind.] I haven't ruled anything out. First Aid's a more experienced epidemiologist and he's been working on it too, but not much so far. I thought it was something about the pollen itself being conductive, but I don't think your ventilation systems are significantly different than anyone else's--not enough to cause immunity. People are variously affected, but you're the first one I've met who's come into close contact and escaped clean, no symptoms.

[This is actually helping--working through the problem out loud takes his mind off the throbbing ache between his legs and steadies him considerably.]

[triggerhappycopter]

If it's really how conductive the pollen is then the electrostatic buildup'd be less of a problem once we get ground ourselves anyways. Far as I see it though, grounding doesn't seem to do much good, so we're basically back to pressure hosing anyone who doesn't like the symptoms, I guess.

[Spinister rests his chin atop his knuckles and watches Ratchet as the other doctor struggles with the onset of said symptom. It was a valiant effort, but it looked kind of uncomfortable.]

... Do you want a hand job too?

[asafepairofhands]

[Ratchet snorts a laugh--then nearly chokes at Spin's offer, his optics widening helplessly. He collects himself after a moment, watching Spin almost curiously.]

You don't have to do that. I mean--obviously. [His cooling fans kick on a little higher and another shudder rips through him, making his vocalizer hitch. He tries hard not to think of Spinister's thick, clever fingers on his hands or his hips or his--]

I'll be fine. [His voice is strained.] Like I said, nobody's exactly dropping dead of this, right?

[triggerhappycopter]

Well, nnnoooo, but you still look like you could use a good rub off. And if I didn't want to do it, I wouldn't have offered.

[Does he look a little bit too entertained by this? Maybe.]

[asafepairofhands]

[He picks up on that, but it actually seems to ease him, his optics narrowing and his mouth tugging up at one corner.]

That your professional medical opinion, then? How very kind. [He softens a little.] Its not like there's a queue of people out the door clamoring to assist, y'know. But--I. If you'd like, then--yeah. All right. [He swallows, trying to keep his head clear, but manages to meet Spinister's optics.]

Please.

[triggerhappycopter]

[Spinister watches him for just a few seconds longer before lazily pushing off of the medical berth. He makes a show of stretching his arms, fingers interlocked and palm out, looming over Ratchet with all the height and mass of a front line fighter.

The touch on the Autobot's thigh was gentle however, thumb brushing playfully over the edges of Ratchet's kneecap.]

You the kind of fellow who likes having a queue?