Chapter Text
It had been a stupid, ridiculous accident. Nothing that was worth writing home about. Miko was almost disappointed in herself for allowing such a thing to happen. If she were to break any bone in her body, she would at least want it to happen in a cool, action movie type way. Not something as simply as falling out of Bulkhead’s cab.
A trip through the desert had left her dizzy, and she all but collapsed against Bulkhead’s interior passenger door. Though the mech hadn’t expected her entire weight to be pressed up against him, and when he had opened it..
Miko should’ve just accepted the fall instead of trying to brace herself. Her wrist had snapped with a disturbing ‘crunch!’ The following actions had been a flurry of worry, Bulkhead freaking out, and apologies. Miko hadn’t ever seen the mech like that before, nor had she experienced how smooth the ride to the hospital was.
Who knew off roading tires could be so leveled on the desert highways? No dips into a pothole. Nor a lurching right turn that slammed her against the passenger door!
Thankfully, Ms. Darby had been on shift, and swept Miko up to be taken care of by professionals. Bulkhead had practically spammed Miko’s phone with his comm’ link’s messages, a flurry of worry, more apologies, and promises that she’d be fine.
When she finally had the time to reply—once she had been bustled about the place, and her wrist had been put into a temporary wrap—Miko asked if it was to comfort her or him. Bulkhead ignored the comment, and went back to spamming her once she finally replied.
It hadn’t been much better once Bulkhead got Wheeljack in on it. She didn’t even know the mech’s comm’ until she had gotten the simplest, ‘What happened?’ from a string of censored numbers, and glyphs that couldn’t translate on her flip phone.
Coming home had been all the more embarrassing. Her host parents had been the ones to pick her up, and though they were careful with their driving, they seemed completely unaware of the two vehicles trailing behind them on the highway. Miko had told both of them to go away, because she was fine, and she did not need them risking being pulled over for ‘suspicious behavior,’ if her host parents did catch on.
That had been about two days ago. Unfortunately, Miko had been far too busy with her own families’ helicopter-ing to have any free time out of the house. Rather than be taken to base by Bulkhead, her host dad decided he’d pick her up. Per Optimus’ request to not interfere where human laws—social and justice—overhaul their own, Bulkhead had remained as but a shadow that sat just down the street from her house.
Miko was more surprised to see Wheeljack in tow, parked just behind Bulkhead’s own alt-mode.
The moment the girl got a chance to herself, she had practically booked it out the house, boots not even tied as she all but jumped into Bulkhead’s backseat. The door had already opened the moment she came out onto the pavement.
“Miko, be careful!“
“What’s she doing? Miko!” Wheeljack’s vocals crackled through the radio. The girl rolled over onto her back, cast settling on her chest as she turned to stare up at the roof of Bulkhead’s interior.
“I’m fine. Seriously! It’s just a little break.”
“Little?! Ratchet said it was a..uhm—“
“Dorsal break,” Wheeljack supplied, sounding as if he had been reading off of a chart. Miko’s head perked up—she climbed in between the two front seats, much to Bulkhead’s dismay at the use of her hand. She was being careful with it! Hardly any pressure was used.
“How would you know that? Wait, why does Ratchet know that?”
“Doc Bot got worried. It’s not our fault your human security systems are so comprisable.”
Miko decided to push away her questions for the medic in question to answer next time she sees him. Though, she doubts Ratchet would ever admit to it. She’ll just have to pull the ‘injured’ card, and maybe ask Raf to back her up on it.
Bulkhead’s voice suddenly filled the cab, a buzzing, warm tone emitting alongside his words, “You had me so worried, Miko. Are you sure you’re alright?”
“I’m okay,” she huffed for what felt like the hundredth time that day. “Doctor said it’ll heal in like a month or two.”
“A month?!” Wheeljack suddenly shouted, his voice glitching over the radio. Outside, Miko heard the blare of a car horn go off. Headlights flashing into Bulkhead’s cab from behind in a series of blink. Miko couldn’t help but snicker.
“Can’t they just replace it?”
“Replace my wrist? Uh, not without destroying my nervous system. I’d rock a metal hand, though.” Miko paid some attention in her biology class! Just enough that she could get away with Bulkhead’s insistence on her finishing her ‘educational papers.’ Homework was the last thing on her mind when they could be riding the sand dunes together, blasting music out the window, and screaming their voices raw.
Miko couldn’t wait to get back to that. She just hopes Bulkhead wouldn’t hold back due to this little..incident. She wouldn’t want him to start going soft, after-all!
“Why not do that then? Surely it’d be faster than waiting.” Bulkhead asked with such a genuine tone in his vocalizer, that Miko had to pause to take into account that the Autobots didn’t need to wait on broken bones, or the swelling of a wound to go down, or any of that fragile stuff that humans do.
They could just.. ‘pop!’ and replace the limb, just like that. With Ratchet’s experience—though Miko would never compliment the mech to his face—they’re in and out of his med-bay in less than an hour! The grotesque image in her head of a human attempt pleased her weird side. Miko scuffled into the passenger seat, leaning against the door in a way that made Bulkhead double check his locks.
“Yeah, but then they’d have to cut it off, and it’s a whole thing,” Miko drawled, waving her hand around casually as she kicked her boots up onto Bulkhead’s dashboard. Though it wasn’t even a second after the words left her mouth, that both Wheeljack and Bulk yelled in unison—
“Cut it off?!”
Both of their engines gave a powerful rev. Wheeljack’s headlights continued to flash, only his time, he had now pulled up alongside Bulkhead’s alt-mode instead of idling behind. Miko caught the barely visible tilt of his mirrors—directed at her—through Bulkhead’s tinted glass windows. The girl couldn’t help but laugh.
“That's barbaric!”
“For once I have to agree with Bulk here, kid. Primus..”
Miko cackled, slumping in her seat as she tried to catch her breath. Bulkhead and Wheeljack continued their conversation, concern etched into every little point. It was these times that really reminded the girl that ‘yeah,’ her two favorite friends in the entire universe were foreign extraterrestrials from a planet light years away.
There was nothing nobody could possibly do to ever change her mind on that.
“So, you’re just incapacitated until then?”
Miko suddenly pushed herself upright with her good hand, eyeing the radio as Wheeljack’s voice crackled through once again.
“Hey! I never said that. It’s just broken.”
Bulkhead’s frame shook, as if the idea of it gave him the shivers. Miko wouldn’t blame him. Though she couldn’t relate to being grossed out by robo-guts spewing everywhere. ‘Cultural difference,’ she decided to leave her thoughts on.
Wheeljack rocked back and forth on his wheels, “Good. Can’t let a simple fracture get down our most-spirited Wrecker, huh?”
“Yeah!” Miko pumped both fists in the air, but immediately retracted when the force sent her wrist aflame. She startled back into her seat, and the seatbelts beside her latched her into place. Holding her with a tightened equivalent to a ‘bear hug.’ Bulkhead’s engine gave another, quieter rev.
“Miko! I just said to be careful.”
“C’mon, Bulk, the girl’s probably antsy.” The mech beside them defended, much to Miko’s delight. Wheeljack rolled up further, turning left and right in short spurts, as if to gesture when without the use of his servos. “Whaddya’ say we play a little..what’s that human term..’hooky?’”
Bulkhead seemed to hesitate, but once glance at his passenger’s pleading eyes made the entire frame sink in defeat. “Alright, but paved roads only.”
Miko cheered, her body automatically trying to lurch forward, only to be snugged against the leather of Bulkhead’s seat once again. She gave a sheepish smile to the side mirrors outside.
“Try to keep up,” Wheeljack remarked, before shooting down the road—leaving tire marks in his wake as his headlights taunted them. Growing ever so dimmer as he sped away.
“C’mon, Bulkhead! Don’t let that scraphead beat you!”
“I’m going, Miko—who taught you that? Jackie!”