Chapter Text
“Um,” says First Aid when the entire mission crew pile into the medical building (which Optimus had landed right next to). “We need to, um, triage, please. Who’s—who do I need to look at first?”
“Blurr,” Hardhead, Hot Rod, and Kup all say at once.
“Okay,” says First Aid, and he sounds rather overwhelmed. He gestures to Hardhead. “Bring Blurr over here, please, yes, right here on this one… Fixit, can you please look at whoever would be next?”
Arcee and Highbrow carry Hot Rod and Kup over to Fixit, who directs them to two medical tables. “Okie dokie,” says Fixit, “How urgent are the rest of you?”
“We survived a shuttle crash,” Chromedome says, “But we’re pretty okay.” He points. “Except Hardhead hit his head.”
“Yeah, the rest of us can wait,” Brainstorm agrees.
First Aid glances briefly up at Hardhead, who’s still standing beside the medical table where he set Blurr down.
“I’m fine,” Hardhead says. “Just worry about Blurr.”
“I am,” says First Aid. “But don’t go anywhere.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
First Aid begins to examine Blurr, while Hot Rod and Kup, nearby, explain what happened.
“They tied us up to this torture rack,” Kup says. “Not the first one I’ve been on either!”
“They tried questioning us about what we were doing,” Hot Rod continues. “So we told ‘em. Guess that wasn’t good enough, because they turned the rack on anyway. It basically pulled our limb joints out. That’s what it felt like, anyway.”
“Not the first time it’s happened, either,” Kup says gruffly.
“Kup, please,” says Hot Rod. “So they were having fun torturing us just because, and Blurr—well, you know Blurr. The Decepticons didn’t like how much he was talking, so one of them… destroyed his voicebox.”
“Fucking barbarians,” First Aid mutters. “I think your joints will be easy enough to fix. Your voicebox will be more complicated,” he says to Blurr, apologetically. First Aid circles around the table, examining Blurr’s other side. He has to squeeze past Hardhead.
“Sorry,” says Hardhead, but he doesn’t want to move.
First Aid gives him a weary look. “You hit your head?” Hardhead nods. “You can stay over here with Blurr, but lie on that table.” He points directly behind Hardhead. “I need space to work.”
“Okay…” Hardhead reluctantly lays down on the medical table. His head is throbbing again, so it’s probably a good idea anyway. He turns his head, even though it hurts, to see how Blurr is doing. Blurr looks worried and still miserable. Hardhead tries to give him an encouraging look, but he doesn’t think it works. “You’ll be okay,” he says because he doesn’t know what else to say.
First Aid sets to work, and he’s very efficient. The first thing he does is give Blurr a painkiller. Then he diligently and slowly goes from one limb joint to the other, hurrying back and forth to the medical supply room for needed parts. When he gets to Blurr’s neck, he makes sure to tape up the wire ends first, then carefully extracts the broken voicebox. Then he spends a long time scrolling through a datapad, looking from the datapad to the voicebox and back, his brow furrowed.
After a while, First Aid comes back to Blurr’s medical table and says, “The good news is, it can be fixed.” Blurr looks concerned. “The bad news is, your voicebox is very unique. Even amongst racers. It operates at a higher capacity, and I don’t have the parts I need. But,” he assures Blurr, “I’m going to contact the Velocitron colony, there’s a doctor there that I’m pretty sure can help me.”
Blurr, obviously, can’t reply, so Hardhead asks, “Do you know how long it will take?” Blurr shoots him a grateful look and Hardhead smiles back.
“I’ll let you know when I know,” says First Aid. “Now, I’m going to need you to power down so I can look at your head.”
Hardhead doesn’t want to. But he knows he has to, and at least he knows Blurr is okay now. He offlines his visor and initiates a power down.
It’s quiet when Hardhead wakes up. But his head doesn’t hurt any more. Experimentally, he sits up and turns his head back and forth. The only ones left in the medical building are him, Blurr, Hot Rod, and Kup.
“Hey, Hardhead,” says Hot Rod when he sees him sitting up. “First Aid said you’re all good to go. Just some connections that got knocked loose.”
“Oh. Good.” Hardhead looks at Blurr. His neck has been wrapped up with medical tape and he doesn’t look happy at all. “Hi, Blurr. Are you feeling any better?”
Blurr nods then shakes his head. So yes. And no? “Do you guys have to stay here long?” Hardhead asks Hot Rod and Kup. “Your joints are fixed?”
“First Aid said we gotta let them calibrate,” Kup replies. “Then go easy on em for bout a week.”
“That sucks.”
“Yeah, sure does. Sure it sucks more for you, Blurr.” Kup gives him a sympathetic look. Blurr just nods.
“Is there anything I can do?” Hardhead asks, hoping Blurr can give him some kind of answer.
Blurr nods, then frowns, then starts gesturing with his hands. But Hardhead doesn’t know what he’s trying to say. “I don’t—” Hardhead shakes his head. Blurr’s frown deepens and he gestures even faster, so fast that Hardhead can barely see. “Blurr, I’m sorry, I can’t understand you.”
Blurr raises both his arms and then pounds the medical table hard with his fists. “I’m sorry,” Hardhead says helplessly. “I know you’re frustrated.”
Blurr punches the table again and when he looks at Hardhead, tears are welling up in his optics. Oh no. No. There has to be something Hardhead can do. Words of assurance aren’t helping at all. What can he do to help Blurr speak, somehow, or at least…
Hardhead stands abruptly and Blurr’s expression switches to alarm. He frantically tries gesturing again, and this time Hardhead can guess what he’s trying to say. “I’m coming right back,” he reassures Blurr, and Blurr visibly relaxes.
Hardhead hurries out of the medical building faster than he thinks he’s ever gone before. He reaches his destination in record time, grabs what he’s looking for, and runs back.
Hot Rod and Kup watch in curiosity as Hardhead hurries back to Blurr’s bedside. “Here,” Hardhead says, and he hands Blurr a datapad. Blurr looks at him questioningly. Hardhead brandishes a second one and sits back down on his own medical table. “Message me,” he says. “Everything you want to say. I’ll read all of it.”
Blurr’s optics widen. He immediately starts tapping on the datapad so fast his fingers are a blur.
Hardhead’s datapad starts pinging as Blurr sends multiple messages in a row, and he’s still typing. The first message just says “thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you!!!!”
“You’re welcome,” says Hardhead, and keeps reading.
Blurr’s typed, “oh my primus Hardhead I was so worried that you were upset with me because you suddenly stopped talking to me and I didn’t know why I thought I must have done something wrong and then I got more worried when that machine almost ate you!!! But then you came to rescue me and you were talking to me even though I couldn’t say anything there’s so much I wanted to ask you but I haven’t been able to talk at ALL I thought I might not ever see you again when the Decepticons got us but I know that’s silly of course you all wouldn’t just leave us anyway I’m going crazy completely utterly crazy and insane because First Aid told me I can’t run and I don’t know when my voicebox will be fixed and I’m so so so so so frustrated and Optimus came back by and Arcee and Perceptor to check on us all but they didn’t stay very long and I couldn’t talk to them at all and I feel like my spark is going to vibrate out of my body and explode into sixteen million hyperactive bits and I can’t stand it but this is helping this is helping thank you so much Hardhead!!”
Thank fuck, Hardhead finally did something right. “I’ll do anything I can to help you,” he says to Blurr. “Just tell me what.”
Blurr types, “tell me why you stopped talking to me after we crashed you apologized for kissing me and then you stopped talking to me why????”
“I—I felt bad about kissing you like that,” Hardhead says, his faceplates starting to burn. “And—and I thought you didn’t feel the same way about me that I do about you.”
Blurr writes, quite concisely, “why not just ask me then”
“I was scared,” Hardhead admits. “Um… how… how do you feel about me?”
“I like you a lot” Blurr types immediately. “a lot a lot I think you’re really sweet and really kind and nice and a good listener and you’re so patient with me and also you’re really really handsome and I was ok with you kissing me I just didn’t expect it because I was trying to drop hints but I’m not very good at it or rather I’m not good at telling if people are picking up hints I’m dropping or maybe I’m not good at either” Blurr glances up at Hardhead, and his faceplates are burning too. He keeps typing, “so do you really really like me like you want to date me?”
“Yes,” Hardhead says shyly. “You’re the most beautiful bot I’ve ever met and I really like listening to you talk. I think you’re a really good person and you should think a little higher of yourself. Because I do.”
Blurr is staring at Hardhead with the absolute softest gaze of wonder, like Hardhead is the most amazing thing he’s ever seen. Hardhead shifts awkwardly in his seat. He really doesn’t know what else to say, but then Blurr gestures for him to come over.
Well. He can’t say no to Blurr. He stands and steps forward, and Blurr beckons him closer. Hardhead leans down, mildly confused, because it seems like Blurr wants to tell him something. But he can’t speak, so… Then Blurr leans forward, wraps his arms around Hardhead’s neck, and plants a big kiss right on his mouth.
Oh. Oh, this is much better than an I-think-we’re-dying kiss. Hardhead leans into it, slowly kissing Blurr back and savoring the sensation. To his surprise, Blurr is taking his time.
Hot Rod whistles loudly at them. “Get a room, kids!”
They both ignore Hot Rod, and Blurr must not want the kiss to end either, because he pulls Hardhead a little closer. Eventually they do part, both smiling and faces bright pink.
“I really like you, Blurr,” Hardhead stutters out.
Blurr grins and picks the datapad back up. “yes I think I got that part figured out” he types. “do you want to go out with me just the two of us like on a date because I’d like to date you if you’d like that because I really would”
“Yes,” says Hardhead. “Yes and yes.” Somehow, he’s completed all three steps in the plan. Sort of. Chromedome will get a kick out of the order he did things. First, impress Blurr, second, kiss Blurr, third, Blurr asks me out.
Next up, he hopes: date Blurr for the foreseeable future.