tagging this log constitutes consent to be hugged by a small purple autobot

[quantumechanic]

Who: Nautica and whoever is not going to start shit
Where: the clinic
When: after she gets hurled into a wall (thx tfp megatron) and before she's off the robot drugs
What: drugged-up Nautica is even friendlier than regular Nautica
Warnings: shameless fluff?

A docile patient, particularly in comparison to the other people around here likely to end up in the clinic, Nautica was curled up on her side in a berth, uncomplaining despite the fresh welds spidering silver across her back and impeller housings. The circuit dampers keeping those welds from bothering her might have been slightly miscalibrated--she was a small mech, and didn't have a tolerance built up from a lifetime of hospital stays over the course of an unending war. It was hardly the medics' fault they'd erred on the high side, especially considering the scavenged supplies they had to work with.

It did mean, however, that she was feeling no pain, either literally or in the colloquial sense, and for the moment was quite involved in watching her fingers as she repeatedly flexed them into claws or drummed them somewhat less than rhythmically on the edge of the slab. Hands were so complicated.

Comments

[planate]

"How did... you get a gun?"

Guess who hasn't crossed paths with the giant golden shitbrick for wholesome reasons that definitely aren't they're played by the same person.

[briefcase]

Unfortunately for Nautica, Brainstorm's brilliance didn't quite extend to his social skills. He managed enough to avoid awkwardness, but maybe avoided awkwardness too well.

He almost jumps out of his seat as Nautica lurches forward, hands jerking up to press against her shoulder to steady her, his briefcase clattering out of his lap.

"Nautica..." He narrows his optics in a frown. "Maybe you should be tied down."

[quantumechanic]

Technically he started it by opening a conversation with her at all. He could ask just about anyone how normally that ever went.

Nautica rested her elbows on her knees, propping her chin on her hands. "No, that requires a degree of vulnerability--actual or perceived--that you don't project."

[quantumechanic]

"Didn't know you were into that, Stormy," Nautica replied, and dissolved into giggles as she settled back into the berth. If she was flirting, she was doing a terrible job at it, since she didn't watch for Brainstorm's reaction, instead busying herself trying to get her IV line to lay straight, still snickering.

[quantumechanic]

"Sentinel gave it to me when he found out I didn't have one. I stuck it in a cabinet and forgot it was there." Nautica's instincts for self-preservation were questionable, if not absent altogether.

[planate]

"Oh..."

That's weird. What a weird guy.

"Well, at least he hasn't come back for it?"

[luckyfaceplate]

Maybe that was for the best. He's not even all that funny a jokester. He'll consider that the world doing him a favor as he watches her, looking at that hand that waved to him.

...

His own hand gently reaches out, taking her own and studying it. Just how unscathed from battle it was compared to his own. His eyes soften slightly, secretly glad for that. If there's one thing he didn't want in this universe, it was Nautica having to endure those years.

"Ratchet and the medical staff are reliable. They'll take care of you. But that also means you need to relax your mind as well."

Softly, aggressively dadding and you can't stop him.

[towardspeace]

"Do you mean to say you consider my... past self... vulnerable?" says Megatron, as if he can't quite decide whether to be indignant or amused.

[quantumechanic]

"You didn't see how mortified he was after he realized he'd been bullying someone who wasn't any threat to him." Nautica giggled at the memory, which was not what most people would do at recalling the time Megatron angrily ground their face into the dirt, even on a lot of drugs.

[quantumechanic]

Small and slender, her hand all but vanished in his, the plating of her fingers marked with the scratches and scrapes a ship's engineer couldn't help but collect, little things that would heal themselves and leave no scars on her hands or her mind. Nautica would not have made it through the war whole, whether she died outright or merely survived with the sparklight behind her optics turned cold and hard.

Not thinking of wars or even of violence, she smiled up at Optimus, happy to hold his hand if that was what he felt like doing. "I am entirely relaxed," she informed him.

[quantumechanic]

For her part, Nautica wasn't holding back on the hug, but that didn't mean much. She was not a mech built to do much damage. When he started to withdraw, she let him pull out of the embrace without having to peel her arms off his shoulders. "I'm going to remember!" she insisted, indignant that Trailcutter doubted her.

She was totally not going to remember, but that just meant he'd get thanked twice for the gift.

[luckyfaceplate]

It was strikingly different, but in a good way. Because with the Camiens on Cybertron, even if they were small in number, they could learn to heal the scars on their hands. They could learn what peace was before all the war. Before even the classist system. Camiens--and Nautica as one of them--brought hope.

It would be a rough ride (Starscream a hurdle that he has yet to leap), but just looking at their hands lifted his spark. He didn't know Nautica very well, but he'd certainly have her back should she need it.

"Somehow I don't doubt that." There's slight humor in his voice, although it's only to himself this time, as his other hand reaches up to pat the hand holding hers.

"Is there...anything I can get you?"

[gimmicky]

A part of him tries not to chuckle, and he's mostly successful, settling for a smile as he sets her back down on the berth. Ooooh no, Nautica, you're not going to remember a thing. Take it from the ex-expert.

"Okay, okay, you sure told me." When in doubt, agree with them. Because they won't remember that either.

"So you're comfortable? Need any uh...well, anything?"

ONE MILLION YEARS LATER

[aminerproblem]

"Nautica?"

Oh, this was unfortunate. Megatron makes a mental note of mixing in a little less circuit damper in her liquid supply when these are finished processing through Nautica's system.

"I'm going to check your grafts, okay?" He wasn't entirely sure if she was attentive enough to understand, but it didn't hurt to let a patient be aware. He lowers himself to one knee, looking through the silvery lines on her impeller housings. He gently adjusts them, observing how the joints against her back flexed with the silver filling.

He glances back at Impactor,"You can get closer if you want."

To say he'd been elated to find his old friend would be a massive understatement. It was unfortunate that they were stuck in this city, but there were few other people he'd rather go through this situation with.

He was sure Impactor wouldn't be interested in the same work as he was, but if he could find some way for them to share the same workspace. Well, Megatron wouldn't be opposed.

[quantumechanic]

"Itchy," Nautica protested as Megatron put soft stresses on welds her self-repair hadn't fully integrated yet, causing twinges along the seams that should have been painful, but thanks to the dampers, merely felt very odd. She let Megatron do his exam with no more interference than sotto voce grumbling.

Right up until she noticed Impactor's reflection in a diagnostic screen and all bets were off as she pushed herself up on an elbow and twisted awkwardly to look at him over one shoulder, or as much of him as she could see past Megatron. She might connect Impactor's name to the Wreckers once they were introduced, but for the moment he was just a new person...one with excellent fashion sense.

"Megatron," she stage-whispered, "who's your friend with the classy paint job?" Nautica winked at Impactor and pointed an approving finger-gun. Hey.

[towardspeace]

He puts his head in his hand and makes an indistinct sound. Despair, perhaps. "I think I can imagine how mortified he was, Nautica, I can remember being him."

[lethalimpact]

This was certainly a rapid-fire, confusing chain of events. Impactor had woken up, stumbled around for awhile in confusion on why there wasn't vanguard energon on his hands (to his disappointment), only to find Megatron. Megatron claiming to be a medical assistant. He won't even get into how many things are wrong with that considering their world. Thankfully, he wasn't one to ask questions right off the bat, and kept close to his friend as he was pulled along.

This includes when they actually get back into the medical bay. He shadows the other, brow perked at the manner of patients that were in here, the fact that he was allowed to walk around freely, and...well, Megatron having other's lives in his hands instead of mineral.

He stands there, looking at his drill--Megatron's look somewhat tells him he should save that for later--real quick before Nautica's voice catches his attention. Oh...yeah, patients speak. But what comes out of her mouth is...interesting. And for a moment, he looks around wondering what higher up had just come in.

The finger guns...well, they're more obvious.

A groan escapes at first, but...this is for Megatron. And he's not going to ruin this for his friend. "Impactor." That was good enough, short and sweet, gets the information across. "We work--ed in the mines together." There's a few more glances at his paint job, though, mostly cause there...maybe be some energon still splattered on it.

[quantumechanic]

Nautica's frame of reference regarding Megatron was...unique. That explained why, when an idea occurred to her, she didn't hesitate in executing it it.

Leaning forward, she gave him a hug. Well, she gave the part of his upper arm hers could fit around a hug. Close enough.

"He'll be fine. I'll be fine. You do what you need to make sure you'll be fine. You always seem so tired. I worry about you."

[towardspeace]

Megatron goes very, very still.

His impulse is to straight up pick Nautica up and throw her away from him, because for millions of years nobody would have dared even think about doing something like this without getting shot in the head. His second is to pull his chair back or get up, but he realises that if he does that she'll probably fall onto the floor or something, and he can't imagine that would be good for her in this state. He'd kind of be willing to take that risk, honestly, if it wasn't for the fact that other people would probably see.

He stays where he is with the utmost reluctance.

"I assure you," he says stiffly, "I am as well as can possibly be expected."

[quantumechanic]

Fortunately for Nautica, self-interest prevailed where ethics couldn't. Yay!

She held on for another few eternities, or, as they were more commonly known to people who weren't in their own personal hell, seconds.

"That's a heck of a qualifier," she said as she returned to the status quo of not hugging retired warlords.

[towardspeace]

He relaxes noticeably once she lets go of him, but he's eyeing her warily for a moment or two after the fact, as if concerned she might do it again.

"... Yes," he says, after a slightly unnecessarily long pause, but a moment later he's completely content to pretend no physical contact ever happened. "Yes, it is." He leans back a little, now that he can. "I'm as fine as I need to be, how about that?"

[rodders]

"Not everyone is transfixed by the--" A hand wave. "Whatever." He can't be bothered, sorry Nautica. It's not out of disinterest so much as it is... he just doesn't care. So that's mostly disinterest. Hey - they're still going to work whether he knows about them or not.

FOR HER GOOD BUDDY TARN

[quantumechanic]

After a while, Nautica decided it was time to go find her wrench. She couldn't get any work done without it (the fact that she couldn't get any work done with it in her current state did not occur to her) and anyway, she liked having it around.

She reached up and turned off the monitors so they wouldn't start beeping when her life signs disappeared from the slab, disconnected her IV, pulled the needle out, and set it neatly on a tray next to her berth. Since she didn't want anyone to worry, she also left a datapad with a note. Unfortunately for the actual usefulness of said note, it read in its entirety "Be right back!" with a smiley face and a drawing of her wrench.

Responsibilities thus discharged, Nautica headed out into the city, rather more unsteadily than was reassuring, but she stayed vertical enough. Her navigational skills were suffering more than her motor control, however, and she managed to head in almost entirely the wrong direction. Eventually making her way to the least-safe location possible for someone wearing an Autobrand, she stuck her head into the door of the Decepticon stronghold where Tarn was nursing his wounds and his grievances.

"Hello? Anyone home?" She didn't wait for an answer before continuing into the building.

[quantumechanic]

"He's been. Uh. Occupied. Megatron beat him within an inch of his life."

That came out more primly than usual. While Nautica understood Megatron's motives, she certainly didn't approve of fighting in the streets like Cybertronian football expy hooligans.

Re: FOR HER GOOD BUDDY TARN

[sparkwhisperer]

Tarn distantly hears a voice calling as he lays on the berth deeply in shock with his hand covering the bare patch of plating on his chest. He doesn't respond, instead choosing to close his eyes and turn his face away from the noise of approaching footsteps.

He hopes whoever it is will leave him to his own dark thoughts. He isn't particularly in the mood for entertaining anyone. Especially someone with a voice that he doesn't recognize immediately. With the shame of having his faction stripped away so very fresh he isn't sure that he can think of anyone who's company he could handle at the moment. Not even a member of his own lost team. Unfortunately for him, Megatron had left the door to his hab suite open.