robothell | the shit train just keeps rolling

"Yeah?"

He answers it... embarrassingly fast. Then again, he wasn't doing much else at the moment, other than making sure Optimus didn't fall into a hole or something. Being a bodyguard. That sort of thing.

Which left a lot of time for pouncing on his comm when Important People -- see: Ratchet -- called him up.

"You don't sound so hot. Everything okay?"

"Yes. Well. Nothing that is an immediate emergency but--"

Ratchet's vocalizer shorts a little and he hesitates, but he can't just tell Ironhide not to worry about it now, that'll just make things worse.

"Could you come to the medibay, please?"

"... well, that ain't concerning or anything."

He's going to worry. No matter what Ratchet says. He's going to worry. But he'll also get moving. Even before the word "please" is fully finished.

"On my way. Sit tight, okay?"

"Yeah. I--"

Ratchet's voice wavers and he cuts himself off for a moment, his jaw tightening hard.

"...yeah."

"I'm comin'. Okay?"

Now he's really concerned. And transforming to move as quickly as a big, heavy guy like him is able to. Something has the other bot rattled. Maybe... more than rattled.

"Promise. Gonna be there in a minute."

"Okay. Okay."

Ratchet cuts the comm and just sits, watching Amublon check First Aid over and surveying the total wreck Tarn made of the medical bay, wincing slightly at the light spray of energon on one of the walls, courtesy of his scalpel and Tarn's neck. Maybe he can tell Ironhide they've been redecorating.

It really isn't long before he shows up. A spray of gravel as he slams on the brakes, heavy tread a little too fast for normal strides. The door slams open. Yes, okay, he could have handled this better, but he's worried. Which... doesn't get any better at the sight of the place.

Or the mess on the wall.

And that's why, heedless of anyone else in the room, he makes quick strides to the one who called him, and just...

Grabs him.

Sorry, Ratchet, you're getting a crushing hug right now. Care of your embarrassing bara friend.

"Oof--" Ratchet manages as Ironhide scoops him up and drags him into a crushing hug, shuddering against Ironhide's broader chassis for a minute before he slumps a little, just letting himself dangle in Ironhide's grip.

"M'all right," he says with difficulty, his face mashed into Ironhide's massive shoulder. "M'fine. S'okay. We're all okay."

Sure, he hears Ratchet's voice. And the reassurance is welcome. But at the same time, he doesn't quiet let go just yet. Right. Everything's fine. Sort of...

"Whose is that?"

He jerks his head toward the wall without elaborating. He feels he doesn't need to. And it's then he realizes Ratchet said "we", and not just "me". And slowly levers the medic down to the ground.

"Sorry, I... Got a little concerned there..."

Yeah, he's not letting go quite yet.

"Tarn's," Ratchet says, his ventilations still a hair unsteady. "He came back here half out of his mind looking to pick a fight. I kind of had to give him one." He shakes his head, rubbing the palm not covered in energon up to his wrist roughly over his face. "He grabbed me and pulled too close and I got him in the throat. He won't be talking anybody to death for a while and he left after that, cut his losses."

He looks around at the medibay helplessly, trying not to lean into Ironhide's hands on his arms, or press his face to Ironhide's shoulder again, or do anything else embarrassing. He shivers a little with the effort.

"I figured we could use a little backup, just in case," he says, his mouth crooking in a weak half-smile as he manages to look up at Ironhide's face. "And some help cleaning up, since Tarn's gone and half-wrecked the place again and I'm next to useless picking stuff up. And--" He stops, bereft of other excuses for him calling Ironhide here in a panic before he feels suddenly and extremely foolish for even needing them in the first place. He swallows, words sticking thick in his throat, surprisingly difficult to say.

"And I wanted to see you," he says simply, but he leans in against Ironhide again and his helm clanks gently to the flat plate of Ironhide's shoulder, his shoulders slumping in.

"Who is that? Where did he head off to?"

He feels like he should know the name, but there's nothing in his memory to match up to it. The words come out angrier than he means them to. Tenser. Like he's spoiling for a fight, now that he knows some new threat popped up to try and mangle something of his. Er -- something he wants to protect.

"You got it," he says, and he means it, with everything he's got. Ratchet might not get a choice in whether or not to lean on him, because he's pulled him even closer again, while his optics flick around to all the destruction.

Looks like he's got a new place to stay for a while.

"All of it. I'm not goin' anywhere, all right?" One big arm drapes across Ratchet's shoulders, keeping him where he's leaning. "I got you."

Ratchet chokes down the impulse to wriggle away, to tell Ironhide he's fine, to try to get back to work--he shudders with it against Ironhide's broad heat before he lets it go, letting himself rest against Ironhide a little harder. He is all right, really, but... this is nice.

"Thanks," Ratchet says, a little belatedly, then shakes his head a bit. "Tarn. Head of the Decepticon Justice Division. He's just bad news, but I don't think we'll be hearing from him anymore for quite a while. Not half because he can't talk now, I guess."

"They give him a long enough name? I'm callin' him Torn. Easier to say."

And a terrible joke. He's not sure if it will have the intended effect, but hey. He tried.

"... What's he look like, anyway? Aside from the missing chunk out of his neck."

As he asks, he lets his hand gently smooth across the other bot's plating. He's never really known Ratchet to be rattled like this. So whoever this idiot is -- or was -- he's got to be more than just 'bad news'. More reason to look into it himself.

"I'm not telling you so you can go after him," Ratchet says firmly, though he can't help leaning into the slow stroke of Ironhide's hands against dented plating. "Megatron already damaged one knee badly, which is the reason that fight went the way it did, but I took care of it. I want you to stay out of his way unless he comes back here--don't go borrowing trouble. We have more than enough of it."

"I'm gonna find out. Gotta know what he looks like so I don't hit the wrong guy, don't I?"

He can't promise he won't go spoiling for a fight, though. He'll stay here. If he has to, he will. But on the other hand... this Tarn thought he could just waltz in and start a fight of his own. That can't stand.

Right?

"... Is it wrong if the thought of you taking out some guy with a scalpel is... uh. How'd it go again?"

"He's purple and turns into a tank. Other than that I have no idea what he looks like, he wears an extremely stupid mask all the time. You can't miss him."

Ratchet eyes Ironhide narrowly, his mouth turning down in firm censure.

"He's not going to come back, he was too badly injured. He used to have this ability to modulate his voice somehow, use it to get people's sparks to slow or quit entirely. Even if Spinister somehow rigs him a new vocalizer, which he needs, I doubt he'll ever be able to do that again." Ratchet huffs.

"And how it went is that Tarn limped in here with an already badly injured knee angry half out of his mind, picked me up and shook me until I rattled like a tin can full of rocks and tossed me around some, then made the mistake of letting me get close enough to stab him in the throat. It was not fun, or tidy, or particularly impressive, if that's what you're thinking. I'm lucky I'm in one piece."

"If he does..." he mutters, firmly, just loud enough for only Ratchet to hear. "Then we're gonna beat him harder. 'Till he gets it through his stupid mask no one messes with this place."

He doesn't raise his voice. Doesn't make a sudden move or anything. He just keeps trailing his fingers along the other's plating. Reassuring. Promising. It's okay, he's going to stay here. This won't happen again.

"Hey, I'm impressed," he says, with a little smirk. "Wouldn't say it was fun, you're not that kind of bot. But..." And his voice lowers even further, all but whispering. "You are pretty impressive."

Ratchet huffs, looking completely thrown, and elbows at Ironhide a little.

"Now you're just being ridiculous," he grouses, shaking his head and settling in again, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Nope, serious."

Because hey, cranky complaints are better than what he got over the comms. This sounds more like Ratchet. Way more like him.

"Completely."

the shit train just keeps rolling

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