robothell | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Who: First Aid, Rampage and Sixshot
What: Sixshot plays fetch.
When: A little bit after First Aid's intensive surgeries.
Where: The clinic!
Warnings: Awkward robots!

There's someone out there that needs to be dragged in to visit First Aid. Someone who had possibly saved his life. Sixshot had smelled it in the small medic's energon and the mingle of scents that Tarn had been in the middle of washing out.

It's that scent that brings him to a stop, sniffing at a small, deep crack in the pavement. He's been around the city enough to know that there was a subway system under there and there were probably several entrances nearby that the Sixer could have used to enter the area with relative ease.

Instead, he starts digging.

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Being carried by Sixshot is patently ridiculous looking, but Rampage prefers looking ridiculous to actively giving in. He gets his head knocked against the door frame for his trouble.

"Ow," he grumbles as Sixshot carries him in. "I just don't like medibays. You should have carried him out to me instead."

Sixshot was right about First Aid being up and about-- mostly. He was off the life support but his frame was still a mess of weld scars. He still had plenty of healing to do before repainting could be considered. Adding a fresh paint of coat to a healing weld could complicate the healing process.

He could walk, but not for too long; he's still far too weak and dizzy to be on his feet for long. Instead First Aid gets around mainly by a makeshift wheelchair. It wasn't exactly the most high tech, but it worked well enough First Aid could get around the medibay.

The bickering draws his attention before Sixshot and Rampage even enter the door, so by the time the sixchanger gets the unruly beast mech inside, First Aid is waiting for them.

He gets up on wobbly feet, then promptly wraps his arms around Sixshot and Rampage's legs.

"Rampage!"

"Because it's less pleasant for- ah!" Sixshot freezes mid-stride at the arms around his leg.

Well, there goes his spark. Just melting away. It's not like he needed it for anything anyways.

"First Aid," he says in a much gentler voice. "If you'd be so kind as to give us some space, I'd like to put this afthead down somewhere."

Rampage is perfectly ready to continue bantering with Sixshot, but his plans are derailed by something small, excited, and precious hugging his legs.

He'd like to make fun of the effect First Aid has on Sixshot, but... well.

"Hrm," he replies awkwardly, horns quirking at odd angles.

First Aid vents heavily like he had stopped his fans for a moment, then pries himself away.

"Yes, of course, I'm sorry," he says, settling back in his chair and wheeling back a bit to give the two some space. He doesn't let his optics leave them though.

"I'm just excited. I missed you. I don't have much to do and I get sort of stir crazy. I'm not really used to having such a weak body, but then everything feels kind of wrong about it like this. I suppose you just feel sort of strong when you're sixty meters tall and forget how weak you are apart."

He's been... kind of addled and rambley in his recovery.

"I should see if I can find some game boxes around the city. I wouldn't want you to get too stir crazy," Sixshot says, setting Rampage down before walking over to First Aid's side kneeling next to him. He's quite used to the rambling by now and takes the sudden wall of words in a stride- until that last little bit.

"... Apart?" Wait. What.

Rampage stands awkwardly as Sixshot sets him down and goes to First Aid's side. He's not sure what to do with himself, so he just sort of stands and crosses his arms, his beast-mode legs slowly curling over his shoulders defensively as he tries to ignore his surroundings.

First Aid isn't talking a whole lot of sense at the moment, and his horns quirk even more.

"You're in much fewer pieces than the last time I saw you."

Sixshot decides to walk within reach, so First Aid reaches out and takes his cheeks between his hands, tugging him closer, and then bonks their masks together. He lets him go a moment later, then reaches for Rampage. Come here and get a proper hug.

He's so very glad to see them.

"A lot fewer than I'd like." The need to combine was something that still burned in his circuits. Tarn essentially accentuated the feeling of wrongness that was individualism. Still, First Aid was completely oblivious that he didn't make sense; a nice concoction of pain drugs and healing brain damage made his lucidness come and go. Ratchet was right to keep him away from work still.

"Where have you been hiding?"

The hands on his cheeks earn First Aid a low rumble of happiness and Sixshot lets his optics flicker off as their masks touch. When he is let go, he shifts his weight and moves to sit with his back against one of the medical berths.

First Aid wasn't making any sense at the moment, but he doesn't try ask just yet what was going on. The sudden information drop about his apparent past as a combiner was something Sixshot suspects he's not supposed to know about yet anyways.

"He's been underground."

"I wasn't hiding," Rampage huffs, slowly settling into a crouch in front of First Aid when the little medic reaches for him. "I was just minding my own business."

Meaning he wandered around aimlessly, chilled out in holes, and terrorized the local fauna.

His horns twitch with his confusion, and he adds, "I could break you back into a few more pieces, but I don't think your spark could handle it this time."

The little light in his chest still doesn't feel quite as bright as it used to. But then maybe that's just how it'll be from now on. Rampage hasn't had a lot of experience with sparks coming back from the brink of death. Just a lot of experience putting them there.

"Underground?"

That response makes First Aid pause, looking at Rampage strangely. He didn't want to be in pieces like he was before. He wanted to be more. Rampage always said strange things though, and after a moment he pulls the beast mech to him into a snuggling hug.

"Gosh, you're filthy. You need a scrub."

He gives Rampage a little nuzzle, then lets him go, looking at Sixshot. It was difficult to choose which one to snuggle, so after that, he just chooses not to to choose, instead folding his hands.

"Thank you for bringing him. Anyway, if you find any games, would you play with me?"

"You were so hiding," Sixshot intones serenely. He's helping, Rampage, aren't you happy?

He watches the exchange go, curious. Rampage's offer to break First Aid into a few more pieces earns a very narrow optic-ed look, though. Don't you dare, crab face. Don't you dare.

"I would play any game you wanted to," he says, turning back to First Aid, reaching out to place a hand lightly over First Aid's folded ones.

Edited 2016-01-02 04:38 (UTC)

"What could I possibly be hiding from?" Rampage grouses at Sixshot. He's not actually grumpy, though. It's hard to be grumpy when First Aid is giving you nuzzles.

He sits back on his heels when First Aid pulls away, his horns drooping to match his soft gaze.

"I'd be less dirty if someone hadn't decided to drop a roof on me."

That's you he's giving a sidelong look at, Sixshot.

First Aid's spark warms with happiness as Sixshot places his hand over his own. For a moment, he was so very glad. Anything to break the monotony that was being cooped up in the medibay.

"We'll see what you find then, hm?"

That comment about the roof makes First Aid give Sixshot a dull look in response though, and he sighs, moving his hands to holding Sixshot's hand between them.

"Are you two still fighting?" He gives Rampage an accusatory, squinted look then. "Have you been being good?"

The happiness First Aid radiates makes Sixshot's spark do a little flip flop and he gazes at the little mech with a quiet adoration. At least until Rampage accuses him of dropping the roof on him.

"I didn't hurt him," Sixshot says, almost petulantly. After a moment though, he amends with a muttered, "... much."

The Sixer resets his vocalizer.

"Besides, we weren't fighting. I was just bringing him to you and it was the most... efficient way of retrieving him."

"He dug up a perfectly good lair," Rampage huffs. Wow, Sixshot ambushes him and First Aid is giving him accusing looks? So rude! His horns droop sulkily and he looks off to the side. Then promptly looks at the floor with a shudder, because to the side is a bunch of medical equipment that makes him deeply uncomfortable.

"I saved you," he mutters. "Isn't that good enough?"

"Sixshot!" First Aid sounds offended. He looks offended. He pries his hands away from the sixchanger's and gives his arm a little smack. "Is it so hard for you two to be nice to each other?"

Rampage's little mumble is a good distraction though. He turns his attention back to the mech, his visor bright.

"You... saved me?"

"Yes," Sixshot pouts, drawing back and rubbing his arm as if the smack had actually stung. Honestly now, First Aid, have you seen how these two assholes interact?

"And yes." On the other hand, while talked a lot of shit about Rampage, he'd also just as readily give the dumb crab praises where it was due. "He did save you."

Rampage gives an amused snort at Sixshot's 'punishment' at First Aid's hands.

It really is that hard, though. What does First Aid expect from a pair of huge war machine teenage boys? This is how they friend.

"I bit Tarn's knee," he says, somewhat smugly.

He expects them to be better behaved and less destructive, that's what. Each time they get into one of these little tussles they destroy more of the city, which could lead to collapses on innocent bystanders.

First Aid looks at Rampage blankly, uncertain what to feel. His head was still a mess and remembering all the details was difficult. He strains to remember the beast mech there, but he comes up blank. He bends his elbow on the arm of his wheelchair, and presses his head against it.

"I'm sorry. I don't remember. Thank you."

But First Aaaaiiiiidddddd...!

Sixshot looks up at Rampage with a meaningful look on his face before turning back to First Aid.

"You were probably already unconscious," he says softly. A blessing probably at that point.

"It's alright," Rampage says, leaning in to bump his forehead gently against First Aid's. "Your spark was already starting to die."

His horns quirk in amusement. "I don't suppose you could taste my energon in your lines."

"I don't actually remember much of the attack... It's normal, you know. After brain trauma. I've seen my chart."

First Aid's hands curl around Rampage's horns and his visor dims. His spark pulses with sadness, but he's comforted by Rampage and Sixshot's closeness.

"Unless you poured it into my mouth, I don't taste anything."

He gives Rampage's head a stroke before he pulls back and sets his hands on his wheelchair. He moves back, then further into the medibay.

"How are you both doing?"

"I scented some neural conductor fluids, but I didn't think the damage was that extensive until after you woke up," Sixshot admits, watching First Aid as he moved around.

The question makes him pause for a bit, before he shrugs quietly.

"I've been."

You know, he totally wasn't worried sick over First Aid or anything.

Rampage's horns wiggle against First Aid's fingers and he finds he's disappointed when the little medic pulls away. Straightening up slowly, tension leaks back into his posture as his attention becomes less focused on First Aid and more on his surroundings.

Crossing his arms, he answers, "The same as usual."