Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"-this is actually better than what I'm used to," First Aid was saying to Ratchet when the door to Medical whooshed open. A moment later, three angry jet'formers stormed in, all of them talking at once. With a sinking feeling, First Aid noticed cuts from Blades's, well, blades on all of them.

"-who the hell does he think he is? The second coming of Starscream?"

"-can you believe the nerve of that little whirlybird?"

"-all I did was ask about his mask, he didn't have to yell at me!"

//Aerialbots,// Ratchet said, switching from spoken speech to a private comm-band. //The red and white jet is Fireflight, the black and white is Air Raid, and the white one is Slingshot. They're the ones you'll run into the most trouble with - Fireflight from carelessness, the other two from fights.//

First Aid nodded. //Right. Can I handle their injuries?//

Ratchet grinned at him. //I don't know. Can you?//

"Hello, Earth to Ratchet!" the white jet - Slingshot snapped. "What, is Medical self-service today?"

"What would you do if I said yes?" Ratchet asked, folding his arms.

"Bug Perceptor!" Air Raid said, grinning flippantly. "Fireflight's puppy-eyes always get him."

"I don't mean to," Fireflight protested, then his optics alighted on First Aid. "Oh, hello. I didn't notice you."

That was the story of his life, he'd found. Mechs noticed his teammates first, and after meeting the Ark's engineering staff, he figured familiarity, habit, and their distinctive personalities would lead to the same thing. First Aid liked being overlooked, though, because it meant there was less hassle from officers about his pacifism.

"I'm First Aid," he said, stepping forward to take the nearest Aerialbot by the arm. It happened to be Slingshot, and-

-quite suddenly he found himself on his back on the floor, optics resetting, while Ratchet yelled bloody murder.

"I thought you kids got into a fight, not had the Constructicons replace your processors with molten slag!" Ratchet had Slingshot by the shoulder, the Aerialbot snarling up at him. It was strange, First Aid thought, what a difference in perspective showed. He hadn't realize how short the Aerialbot actually was; Slingshot didn't come across as a small mech.

He climbed to his feet carefully. "It's all right, Ratchet. I've had worse."

"You shouldn't have to," Ratchet snapped, "and you're not going to again! You," he added, shifting attention to Slingshot, "are spending the night in the brig."

"It's all right," First Aid said more firmly, reaching out to push at Ratchet's hand. "Would you take care of Fireflight and Air Raid? I can handle this."

"Wanna bet?" Slingshot growled, jerking away from him- More him than Ratchet, First Aid was sure of it.

Ratchet glanced at him then stepped back. "As long as you know what you're doing, First Aid..."

First Aid nodded, then touched his fingers very gently to Slingshot's wrist to get his attention. "I'm going to get the armor-fill, all right?"

The Aerialbot scowled at him. "I'm not sitting down just because you're a pushover."

"I didn't ask you to sit down."

Slingshot's optic-band flashed, and First Aid walked past him to get the metal-and-nanite solution used to speed repairs on this kind of superficial cut. And, despite appearances, they were superficial. Blades hadn't cut through Slingshot's armor except in one place - the arm First Aid had taken hold of, on the inside of the elbow joint.

Chapter Text

First Aid glanced between the neat manifest list on his datapad and the jumbled storage room. Somewhere in there, according to Perceptor and the manifest, was a pair of optical tweezers. He was surprised Ratchet didn't already have it out, but he supposed he wouldn't want to dive into these boxes casually either. It was entirely possible to do most repairs without optical tweezers. It was just much easier with them.

He looked at the manifest again then at the nearest box. That inventory number wasn't even on this manifest.

He cycled his vents in a sigh. Oh well. Best get to hunting.

Two hours later, he was really starting to miss Cybertron. Constant threat of Decepticon discovery aside, he'd been able to find things on any given base.

"You need a hand?"

First Aid startled, almost dropping the box in his hands, and glanced over his shoulder to see Slingshot leaned in the doorway, arms crossed. He looked annoyed, but the few times First Aid had met the Aerialbots outside of Medical, Slingshot always looked annoyed. When he wasn't heckling one of his brothers.

The Protectobot set down the box with an incomprehensible mixture of Tellurian rock samples and Wheeljack's experiments. What was the Aerialbot doing down here? "Um. I'm just looking for a pair of optical tweezers."

"Well, at least you're in the right room." Slingshot smirked. "What's that, something of Ratchet's? Or did he send you to get a left-handed torque wrench?"

"Perceptor's, actually." He ignored the crack about left-handed torque wrenches. It had been a long, long time since he was enough of a newbie to fall for wild goose chases.

The Aerialbot nodded. "You see a box over there labelled RA-X8734b?"

First Aid glanced around and spotted it under three other boxes. "The optical tweezers are in there?"

"Nah. Just something Red Alert wants." Slingshot jerked his thumb at the left corner nearest the door. "Perceptor keeps all his stuff over there."

"Oh." First Aid's optic-band dimmed tiredly, but he started unstacking the boxes atop the one Slingshot wanted.

"I'll get that." The Aerialbot grabbed his arm, scowling. "Your thing isn't going to find itself."

"I was just-" trying to help, he started to say. He trailed off in the face of Slingshot's glare. "All right."

He went to stare at the boxes in the indicated corner, wishing the inventory numbers on the boxes actually matched the manifest Perceptor had given him. Out of the edge of his optic-band, he saw Slingshot take his box out into the hall.

Well, he reminded himself, certain repairs would go a lot more easily once he had the optical tweezers. The time he spent now would be worth it later.

"Seriously, it's not going to find itself," Slingshot said from behind him. "Just grab a box."

"I was trying to figure out where to start," First Aid said as he grabbed the nearest box and flipped it open.

"With a box." Slingshot snorted and grabbed a box himself. "Perceptor says he has it organized, but he just throws things in wherever."

First Aid blinked.

"What's your thing even look like?"

"Uh. Well..." His processors scrambled to catch up while he described the optical tweezers to Slingshot. The Aerialbot who had (understandably) knocked him on his aft the first time they met, the mech everyone had warned him about - that mech was going to help him dig through boxes?

Maybe Slingshot wasn't such a jerk after all.

"I'm sorry," he added, "for grabbing your injured arm."

"You'd better be," Slingshot snapped.

Of course, First Aid had been wrong before.

After another hour, the silence was starting to get oppressive. First Aid glanced sidelong at the Aerialbot, wondering if they could manage a civil conversation. He was starting to suspect Slingshot only managed those with his teammates.

That was unfair, he chided himself. He'd only just met the Aerialbot, and they hadn't exactly started out on good tires.

"What's flying like?" he ventured.

Slingshot froze.

First Aid resigned himself to never getting along with the prickly Aerialbot.

"Flying is like freedom," Slingshot said in a low voice. "You've got the entire sky open to you, and you can just go forever. It all becomes the rush of wind over your body, the roar of your engines, and the endless blue."

First Aid stared down at his hands, trying to remember when he had ever felt as if driving was freedom. Never, he didn't think. How could he, living on a Decepticon-controlled Cybertron? There had always been rationing, always the need to sneak and hide, always the fear.

He wondered if Slingshot had ever been afraid.

Chapter Text

The distant whine of jet-engines made Slingshot jerk under his hands. First Aid froze, optic-band going to the sky. In the emptiness of the steppe, the two of them were sitting ducks if anyone flew overhead. No Decepticon jets were visible in the impossibly blue sky, but at the speed they moved, that could change in an instant. There wasn't a single thing he could do about it, though, except try to get Slingshot's transformation fixed.

"I hate this," Slingshot growled, twisting to look back over his shoulder. "Hurry it up, will you? The others need me!"

"I know," he said, pushing the Aerialbot's shoulder back down. "I'm trying to do this as well as I can as fast as I can. But Breakdown really did a number on your systems with that shot."

The Aerialbot growled, his engine trying to spin up. It choked violently, sounding like a bird had gotten stuck in a turbine, and Slingshot grimaced in pain.

First Aid tried not to curse as the last fifteen minutes of work almost came undone. "-Please don't do that."

Slingshot froze under his hands. "-Don't move."

Too used to that tone of voice to ignore it, First Aid went absolutely still. Distantly, he heard the sound of a helicopter, then realized with a sinking sensation he'd heard it for the last minute or so. He'd just assumed it was Blades.

"He hasn't seen us," Slingshot said, his hand extending. For the first time First Aid had seen, the Aerialbot unsubspaced a rifle rather than a pistol. "-If he just flies by, I'm going to let him, because I don't know where Blast Off is. Fragging orbital sniper."

"I'm okay with that," First Aid said softly. He was more than okay with that, though he wished just a little bit that Slingshot would have let Vortex fly on by even if he did know where Blast Off was.

He let Slingshot watch the Combaticon, instead focusing on the Aerialbot's internals open under his hands. Maybe if he rewired there- It'd have to be undone once they got back to the Ark, but it ought to get Slingshot back in his wings for the duration of this mission...

"Slag, he spotted us." The Aerialbot raised his rifle as smoothly as Mirage could toss off a quip and shot Vortex through the rotor-hub. "- if anyone was watching, they're going to backtrack that fast."

"Got it," he said, already cutting and splicing wires to reroute around the damage. "Let me do this and clean out your turbines."

"-don't really have a choice."

Chapter Text

"There you go," First Aid said as he screwed paneling back onto Slingshot's jet. "Run your engine for me? I want to make sure everything sounds right."

The Aerialbot obligingly powered up his jet engine. Its vibrations sent thrills through First Aid's hands, which he vainly tried to ignore. Less vainly, he ignored the small part of him pointing out he hadn't needed to ask Slingshot to do this.

Over Slingshot's shoulder, he caught Ratchet and Wheeljack exchanging a look.

"Everything sounds fine," he said, pulling his hands away.

"Thanks, 'Aid." Slingshot twisted to grin at him around his jet.

How did the Aerialbot manage to look so cocky not an hour after getting his aft kicked by the Dinobots? First Aid felt the edges of his optic-band dim as his systems began to run a little hot.

"Any time," he promised.

He racked his tools after Slingshot left, thoughts drifting to the trip to the Colorado Wildfire Academy planned for next month. Inferno had arranged for the Protectobots to attend a session as students, and he'd mentioned the possibility of helping the humans manage a controlled wildfire. Hot Spot was so excited he couldn't stop talking about it, and even Blades had admitted to looking forward to it. First Aid had only barely managed to tamp down his own glee to focus on his duty shifts.

"You really light up around him," Wheeljack commented.

First Aid blinked. "-Slingshot?"

"Yeah. Wouldn't have thought he was your type."

Hard-working, fiercely protective, confident, constantly trying to improve himself - what about that didn't seem like someone First Aid would be interested in? Maybe it was the wings. Millions of years of warfare meant most Autobots found jet'formers profoundly unattractive. "Why not?"

Wheeljack waved one hand vaguely. "You know..."

Ratchet upticked his optics. "Because he's a soldier first and foremost."

"I was gonna say he's a jerk."

First Aid folded his arms. "He is," he said carefully, "but not always. As for him being a soldier, just because I oppose the war and don't fight myself doesn't mean I won't support our soldiers. I wouldn't be here if I refused to support people like him!"

Ratchet held up his hands placatingly. "All right, all right. Just as long as you're sure."

"I am," First Aid said firmly.

Near the end of his shift, Silverbolt came in. Nothing looked obviously wrong, so First Aid assumed he was here to see Ratchet. Probably about Fireflight's accident yesterday; Silverbolt liked to follow up on his team's injuries. It was one of the things First Aid respected him for.

"I need to talk to you, First Aid."

His optic-band flashed in surprise. "Silverbolt?"

"You've been doing Slingshot's repairs exclusively for the last few years now." The Aerialbot commander pressed his lips together. "You need to start letting Ratchet work on him again."

"Oh, it's no trouble for me-" First Aid protested.

Silverbolt cut him off. "But it's trouble for Slingshot. He's picking fights and getting hurt just so he can get you to do his repairs."

First Aid stared. That- that explained a lot. "Oh."

"Yes. 'Oh.'" Silverbolt cycled air through his vents in a sigh. "I've already talked to him about this several times, but he keeps doing it."

"I'll talk to him about it," First Aid said. "Maybe he'll listen if it's the both of us coming at him."

Silverbolt smiled wanly. "Thank you."

Chapter Text

First Aid gradually became aware of a commotion in the Protectobot common room. He blinked and lowered his datapad, hoping whatever it was wouldn't take him away from his novel for too long. This was the first time he'd gotten to read it in months.

Maybe it was just Blades and Streetwise arguing about which sport was really football again.

His door slid open, and Slingshot slung himself around the doorframe. He looked pleased as a peacock. "Hey."

Behind him, Blades was yelling something about jets too dumb to learn how to knock.

First Aid gestured at Slingshot to thumb the door shut. "Good afternoon. I was planning to come out when I finished my book."

He couldn't keep the reproachful tone out of his voice, and he saw Slingshot's directed thrust nozzles shift in what he recognized as the Aerialbot's body language for 'oops'.

"I got you something." None of that 'oops' came through in his voice; First Aid could see why Blades never got along with him.

Slingshot pulled a pistol out of subspace and offered it to him grip-first. "I got it off Long Haul. It works as a laser welder, too, so you can have a gun that's not just a weapon."

First Aid stared. "- You know I'm a pacifist."

"That doesn't mean you can't fight if you have to."

He was getting sick and tired of hearing that from everybody and their partner. "I will only fight in the defense of my patients, Slingshot. You know that!"

The Aerialbot's optic-band flashed. "Sometimes you have to fight so people don't become patients, 'Aid."

"I will fight in defense," he said firmly, "as an absolute last resort."

"It's only a last resort because you didn't resort to enough violence in the first place!"

First Aid stared, aghast. Did Slingshot really think like that? Worse, did he really think First Aid ought to think like that? "- Get out of my quarters."

"Fine!" The Aerialbot spun on his heel and jabbed the door button. The pistol vanished back into subspace.

"Sure, just barge back through-" Blades started to say as Slingshot stormed past him-

The Aerialbot punched him hard enough to snap his head back.

"Slingshot!" First Aid jumped to his feet.

"Take it up with Silverbolt!"

"You're the one behaving like- like-"

"-like a hot-headed jerk?" Slingshot whirled to face him. "Yeah, well, I am! But at least I'm not living in a dream world!"

First Aid felt his optic-band jump towards white as he tried to process what his friend had just said to him. It was nothing he hadn't heard before, but this time it felt like a blow to the fuel tank.

While he gaped, Slingshot stormed out.

"So, I'm guessing that was about your pacifism," Streetwise said quietly, stepping up beside him.

He nodded numbly.

"He's not going to change your mind!" Blades demanded.

"No," First Aid said, optic-band dimming. "No one will. He's just going to have to accept that."

Chapter Text

Slingshot wriggled on the berth, jogging First Aid's tools off of true yet again. The Protectobot took his hands away for a long moment, wanting nothing more than to punch Slingshot in the head. They'd been here for an hour already, and he knew lying on his back was uncomfortable for Slingshot but every time the Aerialbot moved, he had to start all over!

"You know I can't start fixing your wings until I finish with your internals," First Aid said, forcing as much patience into his voice as he could.

"You didn't turn off all the pain sensors," Slingshot growled, shifting again.

First Aid slapped a hand down on the Aerialbot's throat. "I did. That's phantom pain you're feeling. It's just your computers thinking you ought to be feeling pain."

Slingshot growled.

The vibrations from it almost made First Aid jerk his hand away. This was- not the time or the place. Some traitorous little part of him wondered, though, if it would ever be the time or the place. The Aerialbot was... young and arrogant and oblivious.

"Do I have to hold you down?" he asked, optic-band brightening a notch.

Slingshot's growl deepened, his turbines spinning up to add their own voice to it.

First Aid decided to take that as a yes. Cycling his vents in a sigh, he went to get a step stool. It didn't take long to fetch, and it made the process of climbing on top of the Aerialbot much easier on the jet. He straddled Slingshot's thighs, knees pressing against the mid-section of Slingshot's fuselage. "Now let's get this done-"

With a grin too cocky to be a leer, Slingshot grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled himself up into a kiss. First Aid's optic-band jumped several levels in shock. The Aerialbot took advantage to nip at the edge of his primary plate then went back to kissing him. It felt strange and good against his face; First Aid was far more used to partners who nuzzled with him.

When Slingshot broke the kiss, First Aid pressed down, nuzzling the Aerialbot and getting another nip. Hands settled on his waist, and he tried to murmur something about fixing Slingshot, but the Aerialbot just kissed him again.

The door whooshed open behind them.

There was a long pause. Then Ratchet said, grin audible in his voice, "You two shouldn't do that in the public infirmary. You'll scare the Minibots."

"Oh, frag you," Cliffjumper snapped. "Like I haven't done worse."

"Please don't tell us about it," Bumblebee said quickly. "I'm sure Ratchet's heard it before, and-"

"-and you were involved."