Сижу я, значит, засосало меня сосало в тамблер.. а тааам..
БОЖЕ
ПО МОЕЙ КАРТИНКЕ
(вот этой)
НАПИСАЛИ
ФИК
это самое лучшее, милое и прекрасное, что со мной случалось за хренову тучу времени
вот он, вот он *3* :
читать дальше“If I had a credit for every idiotic soldier with a death wish on their head walking into my medbay half-functional and torn to slag after doing something utterly stupid, I’d have me a nice flat in the Towers with a lifetime supply of high grade at my side.”
Skyfire blinked and watched Ratchet as he shoved over a table of instruments. The medic was fussing over his wound; a gaping hole in his chestplates, the metal torn nearly clean off and hanging by the seam. Azure blue coolant pooled around the wound, streaking down the front of his chassis. Yet if anyone was frustrated with the damn thing, it was Ratchet.
“Well,” Ratchet added a second later, gathering antiseptic tissue, “I would if the Towers were still standing and not a pile of rubble.”
“Oh, I didn’t come here for help. No offense,” Skyfire reassured, raising his hands. “I can take care of—”
“You couldn’t patch this sucker up even if you tried,” the medic interjected angrily, “I’ve heard this story before. Big, stubborn mechs and femmes all high on adrenaline and ego, thinking this’ll make one Pit of a battle scar, end up rejecting treatment and later I’m having to scoop infected rust from their blasted chassis.” He shoved himself forward, against the taller Autobot.
Skyfire lowered his hands, torn between leaving and accepting the medic’s service. “I just… Well, don’t want to inconvenience you—”
“You all ready did when you decided to go talk some sense into that Seeker’s empty processor of his,” Ratchet growled. “Besides, it’s my job. I just wish you lot would make it a little easier and give me some vacation time.” He quickly wiped away the coolant. “Now, let’s see the extent of your damage…”
Ratchet carefully pried back the plate of armor. It didn’t seem to hurt Skyfire, or perhaps his pain receptors had been offlined. He looked almost curious now, but Ratchet chalked it up to some morbid interest. Nonetheless, when the plate was lifted back, Ratchet’s head recoiled with a surprised blanch. “He did a bigger number on you than I initially expected,” he scowled, “Primus sakes…”
“Oh,” Skyfire cleared his throat, “bit not good then?”
Ratchet snorted in response. He gathered a few tools, went to cleaning out the wound before tending to the more critical damage. A few heavy claw marks, but easy to repair. They went in rather deep, however; the lining of the steel walls were scratched up, but they were all superficial. “Give me about a cycle,” the medic grumbled, straining optic x-ray laser into the wound, “and you’ll be as good as new and just as stupid as before.”
Skyfire chuckled softly. Ratchet looked up from his prodding, grumbled, “What? Does this amuse you or something?” What a masochist.
“No, no,” the jet reassured with his crooked grin. His face was tender, friendly - naive in a way. Ratchet couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for chewing him out. The big lug was a lost cause; too forgiving and mellow to rip a new one. Maybe that’s why Starscream hadn’t finished the job and ripped out the sap’s big ole spark. Yet, there was something else about that warm, gentle gaze that turned the corners of Ratchet’s bright blue optics a soft violet.
“It’s just,” Skyfire continued, “getting to watch the master at work. Even if I am a scientist, I was never that knowledgeable in the medical field.” He chuckled again, and his hands rested softly on the medic’s arms. Ratchet twitched, optics darting aside. “So, it’s a very exciting and learning experience. I trust your expertise, doctor, and feel free to continue berating me,” he laughed. “Oh, sorry, I hope that didn’t sound demean—”
“Quiet!” Ratchet snapped quickly. He cleared his throat, his cheekplates burning hot. Focused intently on the wound. “Lesson number one: doctors need silence to do their work.” And Skyfire nodded with that sugary smile still plastered on his face. Ratchet went to work, pretending the hands on his arms weren’t a comforting warmth.
(автор)
вообще, похоже, автор занимается такими вещами довольно часто, но сам факт меня не отпускает
БОЖЕ
ПО МОЕЙ КАРТИНКЕ
(вот этой)
НАПИСАЛИ
ФИК
это самое лучшее, милое и прекрасное, что со мной случалось за хренову тучу времени
вот он, вот он *3* :
читать дальше“If I had a credit for every idiotic soldier with a death wish on their head walking into my medbay half-functional and torn to slag after doing something utterly stupid, I’d have me a nice flat in the Towers with a lifetime supply of high grade at my side.”
Skyfire blinked and watched Ratchet as he shoved over a table of instruments. The medic was fussing over his wound; a gaping hole in his chestplates, the metal torn nearly clean off and hanging by the seam. Azure blue coolant pooled around the wound, streaking down the front of his chassis. Yet if anyone was frustrated with the damn thing, it was Ratchet.
“Well,” Ratchet added a second later, gathering antiseptic tissue, “I would if the Towers were still standing and not a pile of rubble.”
“Oh, I didn’t come here for help. No offense,” Skyfire reassured, raising his hands. “I can take care of—”
“You couldn’t patch this sucker up even if you tried,” the medic interjected angrily, “I’ve heard this story before. Big, stubborn mechs and femmes all high on adrenaline and ego, thinking this’ll make one Pit of a battle scar, end up rejecting treatment and later I’m having to scoop infected rust from their blasted chassis.” He shoved himself forward, against the taller Autobot.
Skyfire lowered his hands, torn between leaving and accepting the medic’s service. “I just… Well, don’t want to inconvenience you—”
“You all ready did when you decided to go talk some sense into that Seeker’s empty processor of his,” Ratchet growled. “Besides, it’s my job. I just wish you lot would make it a little easier and give me some vacation time.” He quickly wiped away the coolant. “Now, let’s see the extent of your damage…”
Ratchet carefully pried back the plate of armor. It didn’t seem to hurt Skyfire, or perhaps his pain receptors had been offlined. He looked almost curious now, but Ratchet chalked it up to some morbid interest. Nonetheless, when the plate was lifted back, Ratchet’s head recoiled with a surprised blanch. “He did a bigger number on you than I initially expected,” he scowled, “Primus sakes…”
“Oh,” Skyfire cleared his throat, “bit not good then?”
Ratchet snorted in response. He gathered a few tools, went to cleaning out the wound before tending to the more critical damage. A few heavy claw marks, but easy to repair. They went in rather deep, however; the lining of the steel walls were scratched up, but they were all superficial. “Give me about a cycle,” the medic grumbled, straining optic x-ray laser into the wound, “and you’ll be as good as new and just as stupid as before.”
Skyfire chuckled softly. Ratchet looked up from his prodding, grumbled, “What? Does this amuse you or something?” What a masochist.
“No, no,” the jet reassured with his crooked grin. His face was tender, friendly - naive in a way. Ratchet couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for chewing him out. The big lug was a lost cause; too forgiving and mellow to rip a new one. Maybe that’s why Starscream hadn’t finished the job and ripped out the sap’s big ole spark. Yet, there was something else about that warm, gentle gaze that turned the corners of Ratchet’s bright blue optics a soft violet.
“It’s just,” Skyfire continued, “getting to watch the master at work. Even if I am a scientist, I was never that knowledgeable in the medical field.” He chuckled again, and his hands rested softly on the medic’s arms. Ratchet twitched, optics darting aside. “So, it’s a very exciting and learning experience. I trust your expertise, doctor, and feel free to continue berating me,” he laughed. “Oh, sorry, I hope that didn’t sound demean—”
“Quiet!” Ratchet snapped quickly. He cleared his throat, his cheekplates burning hot. Focused intently on the wound. “Lesson number one: doctors need silence to do their work.” And Skyfire nodded with that sugary smile still plastered on his face. Ratchet went to work, pretending the hands on his arms weren’t a comforting warmth.
(автор)
вообще, похоже, автор занимается такими вещами довольно часто, но сам факт меня не отпускает