Паня, не дури!
Прекрасное с утра *3*
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There was a reason Ratchet insisted on organizing and keeping tabs on the supply room. Mostly to avoid scenarios such as this.
“Who in their right slagging mind…” Ratchet grumbled as he stared up shelves. Piled high the steel boxes of supplies he needed. Clearly out of his reach. Who decided to put the emergency equipment so high up? What logic was there to doing this? Ratchet cursed and subspaced his datapad.
He could only imagine it was Bulkhead’s doing; of all his teammates, Bulkhead was the, uh, “slowest”, and the one who wanted to get mundane work like organizing and restocking done as soon as possible. So if it meant he could just toss the boxes up without any real work or time consumed so he could run off to fight ‘Cons or play more video games, of course he’d just leave them up there to be dealt with later. Probably figured they were useless anyway; stuff of no real value beyond collecting dust in the storage closet.
Ratchet paced along the shelves. Oh, he could get Optimus to fetch the supplies. Just a little stretch of the larger mech’s arm, he’d reach them, no problem. However, Optimus was busy, and the only other Autobot in the place capable of easily gathering the perched cubes was Skyfire; he was even taller than Prime. And Ratchet wasn’t about to have someone else do something he could, even though it would take a little bit of effort.
Ratchet realized soon enough climbing was involved. The boxes were too heavy to just use a rod to push them over; their equipment too precious to risk breaking. This would mean a little difficulty climbing back down, but he’d manage. No step-ladder to be seen, but phaw, whatever. Ratchet cycled a deep gulp of air before bracing hands against the metal shelves.
With a small “hup-two”, he began the climb. Carefully, mind you. Working his way up a shelf-step with precaution. It took a few minutes before he was at the top. One small mis-step and the shelves groaned, a few objects jolting from the sudden movement. Ratchet swallowed before slowly reaching up for the first box. With some groping, he grabbed one side and began to pull.
Everything had been going fine. Ratchet now had the first box hoisted on his shoulder. This would make climbing back down a bit uneasy, but half-way down he could carefully let the box fall. It wouldn’t break anything inside from a couple feet, at least. So watching between box and his steps, he began the descent. One foot, then the next, gripping tight to the shelves and structure with his free hand.
Just a few more steps, and he could— Ratchet cursed as the box on his shoulder began to slip back. He thrust his hand to pull it back up, but the sudden jerk caused his elbow to strike the shelf. It creaked and tipped, just a few inches, but the other boxes at the very top came loose.
Ratchet widened his optics, looked up. The boxes were falling right toward him. Heavy, steely things full of precious equipment. He could fall back, but risk serious damage hitting the ground from this high up. Ratchet went to quickly step aside, uncaring of knocking over more petty objects, hoping to miss the boxes as they drew dangerously close—
Ratchet choked on a small ‘oomph’ at the tight jerk around his midsection. Then, his feet were dangling in air and when he looked up, he was being held in the arm of one white, winged mech. Skyfire quickly shoved aside the boxes, grabbing one about to clunk him in the head. Three of the boxes - including the one Ratchet had been holding - fell to the ground, hitting with loud clunks and bangs.
“Scrap!” Ratchet cursed. He glared up at Skyfire. “You know those boxes contained fragile equipment!”
“I venture so do you, doctor,” Skyfire grumbled. He was glaring right back. “What the Pit were you thinking? And you call me reckless!”
“I had it under control.”
“Apparently not,” Skyfire snorted. He sighed, his frown more exasperated than upset. ”Why didn’t you just ask for my help? I could have easily flown up there - no, reached, I’m tall enough - and gotten your boxes, you know. Would have taken a klik flat.”
“I didn’t need your help,” Ratchet scowled.
“Your clumsiness begs to differ.”
“We all have our moments of hypocrisy - there, I admitted it, are you happy?” Ratchet snapped. He folded his arms over his chest, glowered at Skyfire’s disappointed gaze. “You’re my hero, you saved my life, I should have known better, now will you put me down so I can assess the damage to my equipment?”
Optimus was right. The medic could be so insufferable. Doctors made the worst patients, he knew that, and maybe if it meant risking themselves instead of others, they’d take that chance. “You promise you won’t try something stupid like this again?” he demanded.
“What sort of ultimatum is that? I say ‘no’, so you’re not going to let me down? What, you’re just going to spend your entire day and thensome holding me mid-air? Really?”
Skyfire sighed again. “You still should have called for me,” he insisted as he lowered himself to the ground. He kept the mech in his arm. “You don’t look hurt, so at least that’s good.”
Ratchet wiggled out of his grasp and quickly gathered the boxes. However, Skyfire easily plucked them from his hands, holding two in one arm, other on his shoulder. “Don’t want you dropping these,” Skyfire said, “might crush your foot.” Okay, now that was just gibing.
The medic ground his denta. “You break anything, that isn’t probably all ready broken, I’ll have your hide!” he snarled as they left the supply room.
“I think the stupidity quota has been filled for the day, sir.”
“Shut up!”
“Who in their right slagging mind…” Ratchet grumbled as he stared up shelves. Piled high the steel boxes of supplies he needed. Clearly out of his reach. Who decided to put the emergency equipment so high up? What logic was there to doing this? Ratchet cursed and subspaced his datapad.
He could only imagine it was Bulkhead’s doing; of all his teammates, Bulkhead was the, uh, “slowest”, and the one who wanted to get mundane work like organizing and restocking done as soon as possible. So if it meant he could just toss the boxes up without any real work or time consumed so he could run off to fight ‘Cons or play more video games, of course he’d just leave them up there to be dealt with later. Probably figured they were useless anyway; stuff of no real value beyond collecting dust in the storage closet.
Ratchet paced along the shelves. Oh, he could get Optimus to fetch the supplies. Just a little stretch of the larger mech’s arm, he’d reach them, no problem. However, Optimus was busy, and the only other Autobot in the place capable of easily gathering the perched cubes was Skyfire; he was even taller than Prime. And Ratchet wasn’t about to have someone else do something he could, even though it would take a little bit of effort.
Ratchet realized soon enough climbing was involved. The boxes were too heavy to just use a rod to push them over; their equipment too precious to risk breaking. This would mean a little difficulty climbing back down, but he’d manage. No step-ladder to be seen, but phaw, whatever. Ratchet cycled a deep gulp of air before bracing hands against the metal shelves.
With a small “hup-two”, he began the climb. Carefully, mind you. Working his way up a shelf-step with precaution. It took a few minutes before he was at the top. One small mis-step and the shelves groaned, a few objects jolting from the sudden movement. Ratchet swallowed before slowly reaching up for the first box. With some groping, he grabbed one side and began to pull.
Everything had been going fine. Ratchet now had the first box hoisted on his shoulder. This would make climbing back down a bit uneasy, but half-way down he could carefully let the box fall. It wouldn’t break anything inside from a couple feet, at least. So watching between box and his steps, he began the descent. One foot, then the next, gripping tight to the shelves and structure with his free hand.
Just a few more steps, and he could— Ratchet cursed as the box on his shoulder began to slip back. He thrust his hand to pull it back up, but the sudden jerk caused his elbow to strike the shelf. It creaked and tipped, just a few inches, but the other boxes at the very top came loose.
Ratchet widened his optics, looked up. The boxes were falling right toward him. Heavy, steely things full of precious equipment. He could fall back, but risk serious damage hitting the ground from this high up. Ratchet went to quickly step aside, uncaring of knocking over more petty objects, hoping to miss the boxes as they drew dangerously close—
Ratchet choked on a small ‘oomph’ at the tight jerk around his midsection. Then, his feet were dangling in air and when he looked up, he was being held in the arm of one white, winged mech. Skyfire quickly shoved aside the boxes, grabbing one about to clunk him in the head. Three of the boxes - including the one Ratchet had been holding - fell to the ground, hitting with loud clunks and bangs.
“Scrap!” Ratchet cursed. He glared up at Skyfire. “You know those boxes contained fragile equipment!”
“I venture so do you, doctor,” Skyfire grumbled. He was glaring right back. “What the Pit were you thinking? And you call me reckless!”
“I had it under control.”
“Apparently not,” Skyfire snorted. He sighed, his frown more exasperated than upset. ”Why didn’t you just ask for my help? I could have easily flown up there - no, reached, I’m tall enough - and gotten your boxes, you know. Would have taken a klik flat.”
“I didn’t need your help,” Ratchet scowled.
“Your clumsiness begs to differ.”
“We all have our moments of hypocrisy - there, I admitted it, are you happy?” Ratchet snapped. He folded his arms over his chest, glowered at Skyfire’s disappointed gaze. “You’re my hero, you saved my life, I should have known better, now will you put me down so I can assess the damage to my equipment?”
Optimus was right. The medic could be so insufferable. Doctors made the worst patients, he knew that, and maybe if it meant risking themselves instead of others, they’d take that chance. “You promise you won’t try something stupid like this again?” he demanded.
“What sort of ultimatum is that? I say ‘no’, so you’re not going to let me down? What, you’re just going to spend your entire day and thensome holding me mid-air? Really?”
Skyfire sighed again. “You still should have called for me,” he insisted as he lowered himself to the ground. He kept the mech in his arm. “You don’t look hurt, so at least that’s good.”
Ratchet wiggled out of his grasp and quickly gathered the boxes. However, Skyfire easily plucked them from his hands, holding two in one arm, other on his shoulder. “Don’t want you dropping these,” Skyfire said, “might crush your foot.” Okay, now that was just gibing.
The medic ground his denta. “You break anything, that isn’t probably all ready broken, I’ll have your hide!” he snarled as they left the supply room.
“I think the stupidity quota has been filled for the day, sir.”
“Shut up!”
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“Come on, come on… Steady now…”
The world was spinning dizzily out of control, and Skyfire’s CPU was flaring with pain. Not a single circuit or processor wasn’t aching. He felt sick and hot all over, as if he had been drug through the Pit and back. It hurt like Hell to even move, and he knew if not for the comforting support at his side, he would have probably resigned to a fate of wasting away in the cold snow. Even with the ice flecking his chassis, he still felt too hot and Skyfire grunted as one step nearly sent him reeling.
“I said easy now,” Ratchet chided, but there was no harshness in his tone. He kept one arm around the mech’s back, the other keeping Skyfire upright with a hand to his chest. The giant flier wrapped an arm over the medic’s shoulders. Ratchet coached him another few steps, all the while speaking words of encouragement. “You’re gonna be all right, soldier,” he assured, “once I get you back to base, I’ll patch you right back up. You’ll be fine.” He ignored the warm energon running down his back from the wound in Skyfire’s arm.
Skyfire winced. His optics strained to stay open, against the cold and pain. The winter breeze was harsh, conflicting with the heat of his chassis. He shivered violently, enough to rattle the smaller Autobot helping him walk. “The… energon… You—you can’t… waste it…” he breathed, cycles hitching.
Skyfire’s predicament had all started over a battle for newly harvested energon. In the end, the Decepticons retreated empty handed, but the Autobots had not won victory without some consequences. Skyfire took the brunt of most of the fight, leaving the medic and Arcee to handle the energon and see to its delivery back to base. The Eradicons kept him more than busy, and while they were clearly outnumbered, Skyfire wasn’t about to back down. Before he even knew it, the remaining drones had fled and backup was rejected.
The most troublesome issue, however, was the fact the storm was interfering with the ground bridge. Arcee was unable to come back after she dropped the energon off, leaving Ratchet and Skyfire to fend for themselves. After a static-filled comm-chat with Optimus, the bridge would be opened a half mile from their spot, outside the storm. Skyfire was low on fuel and energy, too weak to fly, so they were forced to take the long route.
Ratchet glanced up. Skyfire jumped between an Eradicon and Ratchet while the medic had his back turned. Took the blow for him. Resulted in the drone tearing away some of his facial plating, revealing circuitry beneath, now freezing. Coolant and energon bled together as it leaked from the wound.
“We’re getting closer,” Ratchet reassured. The wind howled as it pushed past them. “Just a few more—”
Skyfire grunted, suddenly falling to a knee. Ratchet held him up, to stop the rest of him from hitting the snow. “Hey, hey,” he said, patting at his chestplates, “don’t stop now. You’ve made it this far. We have to keep moving. Keep your fluids flowing and circuits from freezing up.” He chuckled bitterly. “Don’t want to die encased in ice, do you?”
The taller mech blinked tiredly at the medic. A soft smile pulled along his face. “No,” he breathed, groaning as he forced himself back on his feet, “suppose not.” He stumbled a little, swayed against Ratchet, but the Autobot caught his balance with some help.
“And the energon: we won’t be wasting it,” Ratchet added. “If it’s to repair you, of course it’s not a waste. We can’t afford to lose another soldier, or a friend.”
Skyfire was surprised at the blunt response. Ratchet wasn’t known to be so forward. Rather more quiet about the true extent of his feelings for others. Still, Skyfire knew he cared very deeply for all his comrades. Just… Well, he didn’t entirely expect that much for him. Not yet. They’d only been working together a short while now, but… If Skyfire had become as close to Ratchet in such a short period of time, then who was to say…
“Don’t space out,” Ratchet grumbled, “we’re almost there.”
Skyfire tittered. “Sorry, doctor,” he apologized. He just now noticed the medic was shivering, but not from the cold. He was pressing a lot of his weight on Ratchet. He winced and eased off, slightly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize—”
Ratchet pulled him close again. “I may not be the same sterner stuff as I was eons ago, but that doesn’t make me weak.” He snorted and walked the mech a few more feet. Just close to where a bridge would be waiting. “Though maybe you could afford to lose a few pounds.”
Skyfire laughed. Before he knew it - maybe Ratchet’s boldness was infectious - he bent his head carefully forward, down, kissed the edge of one of the medic’s chevron-brows. Ratchet’s optics widened, and he looked shocked. “Thanks,” Skyfire crooned close to his hot cheekplate, “for putting up with me.”
The world was spinning dizzily out of control, and Skyfire’s CPU was flaring with pain. Not a single circuit or processor wasn’t aching. He felt sick and hot all over, as if he had been drug through the Pit and back. It hurt like Hell to even move, and he knew if not for the comforting support at his side, he would have probably resigned to a fate of wasting away in the cold snow. Even with the ice flecking his chassis, he still felt too hot and Skyfire grunted as one step nearly sent him reeling.
“I said easy now,” Ratchet chided, but there was no harshness in his tone. He kept one arm around the mech’s back, the other keeping Skyfire upright with a hand to his chest. The giant flier wrapped an arm over the medic’s shoulders. Ratchet coached him another few steps, all the while speaking words of encouragement. “You’re gonna be all right, soldier,” he assured, “once I get you back to base, I’ll patch you right back up. You’ll be fine.” He ignored the warm energon running down his back from the wound in Skyfire’s arm.
Skyfire winced. His optics strained to stay open, against the cold and pain. The winter breeze was harsh, conflicting with the heat of his chassis. He shivered violently, enough to rattle the smaller Autobot helping him walk. “The… energon… You—you can’t… waste it…” he breathed, cycles hitching.
Skyfire’s predicament had all started over a battle for newly harvested energon. In the end, the Decepticons retreated empty handed, but the Autobots had not won victory without some consequences. Skyfire took the brunt of most of the fight, leaving the medic and Arcee to handle the energon and see to its delivery back to base. The Eradicons kept him more than busy, and while they were clearly outnumbered, Skyfire wasn’t about to back down. Before he even knew it, the remaining drones had fled and backup was rejected.
The most troublesome issue, however, was the fact the storm was interfering with the ground bridge. Arcee was unable to come back after she dropped the energon off, leaving Ratchet and Skyfire to fend for themselves. After a static-filled comm-chat with Optimus, the bridge would be opened a half mile from their spot, outside the storm. Skyfire was low on fuel and energy, too weak to fly, so they were forced to take the long route.
Ratchet glanced up. Skyfire jumped between an Eradicon and Ratchet while the medic had his back turned. Took the blow for him. Resulted in the drone tearing away some of his facial plating, revealing circuitry beneath, now freezing. Coolant and energon bled together as it leaked from the wound.
“We’re getting closer,” Ratchet reassured. The wind howled as it pushed past them. “Just a few more—”
Skyfire grunted, suddenly falling to a knee. Ratchet held him up, to stop the rest of him from hitting the snow. “Hey, hey,” he said, patting at his chestplates, “don’t stop now. You’ve made it this far. We have to keep moving. Keep your fluids flowing and circuits from freezing up.” He chuckled bitterly. “Don’t want to die encased in ice, do you?”
The taller mech blinked tiredly at the medic. A soft smile pulled along his face. “No,” he breathed, groaning as he forced himself back on his feet, “suppose not.” He stumbled a little, swayed against Ratchet, but the Autobot caught his balance with some help.
“And the energon: we won’t be wasting it,” Ratchet added. “If it’s to repair you, of course it’s not a waste. We can’t afford to lose another soldier, or a friend.”
Skyfire was surprised at the blunt response. Ratchet wasn’t known to be so forward. Rather more quiet about the true extent of his feelings for others. Still, Skyfire knew he cared very deeply for all his comrades. Just… Well, he didn’t entirely expect that much for him. Not yet. They’d only been working together a short while now, but… If Skyfire had become as close to Ratchet in such a short period of time, then who was to say…
“Don’t space out,” Ratchet grumbled, “we’re almost there.”
Skyfire tittered. “Sorry, doctor,” he apologized. He just now noticed the medic was shivering, but not from the cold. He was pressing a lot of his weight on Ratchet. He winced and eased off, slightly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize—”
Ratchet pulled him close again. “I may not be the same sterner stuff as I was eons ago, but that doesn’t make me weak.” He snorted and walked the mech a few more feet. Just close to where a bridge would be waiting. “Though maybe you could afford to lose a few pounds.”
Skyfire laughed. Before he knew it - maybe Ratchet’s boldness was infectious - he bent his head carefully forward, down, kissed the edge of one of the medic’s chevron-brows. Ratchet’s optics widened, and he looked shocked. “Thanks,” Skyfire crooned close to his hot cheekplate, “for putting up with me.”
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