robothell | (no subject)

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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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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."

First Aid keeps rubbing his head, like if he kept doing that it would make him heal faster and remember things quicker. He knows it's a process even after waking up-- he was the one who gave Rung his therapy after the Fort Max incident.

"My fingers had pierced my cranial cavity. The facial trauma just drove them deeper."

A good jostle and he might have had brain death. Endless coma like Springer or spark death.

He gets up on his feet again, keeping himself hovering near his chair a moment in case he lost his balance, but after a moment he finds the confidence to step away from it.

"Once I've healed I'll be taking responsibility of Chief Medical Officer of the Autobots. I mean-- Ratchet already gave it up to me once, but he's done it twice now. Things just keep happening that have been delaying it."

Sixshot's nose wrinkles in a sneer of quiet rage and guilt, but he wrestles the emotions back down under his usual calm. There would be time for them later; right now, First Aid needed calm and healing.

He leans forwards when First Aid gets up, ready to help their small medic if he did lose balance. Fortunately, he does not, but the Sixer still moves to kneel a little closer, sitting primly to the small medic's side.

Worried? Who's worried?

"Twice?" he quizzes gently. "How did that happen?"

The negative feelings that blaze off of Sixshot when First Aid recounts his injuries aren't making him feel any calmer. Nor is the clinical way First Aid speaks about what Tarn did.

Things that normally wouldn't bother him, or might actually amuse him. But not here, now, in this place. He gives a full-body shudder.

He doesn't want to talk about First Aid being chief medical officer. He doesn't want to be here. He likes being near First Aid, but not here.

"I'm leaving," he says suddenly, and turns towards the door. Let Sixshot stay and comfort First Aid. He's probably better at it anyway.

"It's strange, actually. I--" First Aid starts, prepared to tell Sixshot the story, but sadly he won't get to hear it since his attention is diverted to Rampage as soon as the mech straightens up to leave.

"Rampage, wait--"

He trips over himself -- literally -- as he stumbles to catch Rampage before he leaves, and his already sore and scarred face plants right into the mech's aft. He spares himself no time for embarrassment or the throb spreading through his face though; First Aid rightens himself and hugs Rampage around the hips.

"Thank you. For seeing me. You know I love you, right?"

"First Aid!" Sixshot exclaims in horror when the medic faceplants right into Rampage's aft, his spark skipping a few beats. He's halfway onto his hands and knees, frozen in the middle of reaching out when First Aid shifts to hug Rampage.

Oh. Thank Primus.

He hovers a bit uselessly off to the side, watching the exchange-

And his spark sinks with a sudden guilt when First Aid tells Rampage he loves him. Quickly, the six-former turns away, embarrassment pinning his wings back. This was... he probably wasn't supposed to be seeing this.

Rampage is already slowing down when First Aid collides with him, coming to a halt when small arms curl around him. But when First Aid speaks it freezes him in place as surely as if he'd been hit with a stasis Ray.

His optics are wide, his horns splayed and still, and he can't for the life of him think of anything to say.

Finally his vocalizer clicks and then he manages, "That's ridiculous."

Never mind the warmth radiating off of First Aid's spark.

It's like neither of them had experienced affection before. Rampage isn't the first mech that First Aid has told he loves them. There's Sixshot to the side acting like he'd just stripped down to his protoform in public, and then there's Rampage. That actually does kinda hurt his feelings.

"No it's not."

Slowly, he slides his arms away from Rampage's hips and looks to Sixshot, seeking help he knows he won't find there anyway.

"Six loves you too," he says, deciding to drag the six changer into this.

Well, Rampage definitely hasn't and Sixshot's experience with affection was a very conflicting thing so far- love, even more so. The expression of confused panic that First Aid earns for his words is probably not too surprising on that front.

"I. Uh."

W-what?

Sixshot looks at First Aid. Then at Rampage, tucking his hands in tightly against his chest and radiating awkwardness. Well, he can't... not help?

Not with the look their medic was giving him.

"I... do care about you."

Rampage doesn't turn to look at either of them. He knows they're not lying. Or at least they don't think they're lying. It just seems... unbelievable. That's not a thing that can happen. People don't care about him, and people shouldn't care about him. Just-

"You're both ridiculous," he says, voice soft and his horns drooping gently.

There's a warm throb in his spark and he doesn't know what to do with it.

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