robothell | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only