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Ratchet came in smelting of burn oil, hot metal, transmission fluids and spilled coolant. Those were familiar odors, by now, but they always came with the unpleasant knowledge that the medic had just spent the last hours in (several) someone’s innards and either pulled miracles, or had to give up and let the Well shallow a Spark.
Given Ratchet didn’t look particularly murderous or about to break in sobs, Wheeljack guessed his old friend hadn’t lost anyone on the operation time this time around. He rarely did, though the lack of resources to properly repair the injured often led to things being touch-and-go and weighed heavily on Ratchet’s kind Spark.
Gently, Wheeljack passed an arm around the medic’s shoulder and guided it to the couch in their shared quarters. He had no energon to give him, but right now, Ratchet looked like he needed rest and the comforting presence of the engineer more than he needed a drink.
“Rough day, uh?” Wheeljack asked in sympathy. He knew Prowl had led an assault on the edges of Kalis while Bumblebee, under Jazz’s direction, led a team to steal from a secret Decepticon warehouse using the distraction. Wheeljack himself hadn’t been deployed, his work on finishing the repairs on the spaceship ‘Ark’ taking priority over battle duties, but he had seen mechs dragged back in the aftermath. Some of the injuries had looked bad.
Only the knowledge the mission was a success and that Ratchet had things well in hand had stopped him from going to the Medbay to assist as well. His help would have been welcome, he knew, but there were enough assistants and junior medics gathered around Ratchet those days to make the engineer’s presence redundant. Besides, Optimus had been clear: the Ark came first.
“One of those days,” the medic mused tiredly, burying himself against Wheeljack’s side, “I’m going to get my hands on Megatron’s fusion cannon and stuff it up his big, pretentious, murderous aft.”
Wheeljack blinked, taken aback, and then erupted in laughter at the mental image. Not that he didn’t think Ratchet wasn’t serious; when Ratchet talked about causing grievous harm to a piece of your anatomy, the medic meant it. But the image of Ratchet getting in Megatron’s face and doing just that…
Oh, it was going to keep merry for orns to come, and Primus knew Wheeljack and the rest of the Autobots needed as much merriment as they could, those solar cycles.
Depleted resources, losses on various fronts, the grim knowledge that without more energon, they’d never win this war…
It took a toll on everyone. So, moments like those, just snuggling together after a long day, taking joy in the knowledge a friend was still alive, were precious. And the fact Ratchet could still joke, despite the horrible things he saw every solar cycle… It warmed Wheeljack’s Spark like few things ever could.
“If you do, please make sure someone is around with a camera; it’s a moment that will need to be immortalized,” he joked lightly, making Ratchet snort.
“A camera? Please; it’ll need dozens to capture the beauty of the moment,” the medic countered, mirth in his optics despite his tiredness. “Of course, knowing Optimus, he’ll argue about the humiliation and how we ought to be better than that.”
“Hmm, better than Megatron?” Wheeljack smiled behind his mask. “It’s not actually that hard.”
“You tell me,” the medic agreed, letting his head fall against Wheeljack’s shoulder. “I so need a shower, a cube of energon and a full, uninterrupted recharge full recharge cycle and then some.”
“Well, the last one is easy and should take priority.” Wheeljack side-eyed the medic critically. “You definitely do not look like you’ll reach the Rec Room while still awake. As for the shower…hmm, how about we do it a ‘you scrub my back, I scrub yours’ moment? Primus knows I could use one myself,” he said ruefully as he looked at his dirt-cacked elbows’ joints.
“Hmm, sounds like a plan,” Ratchet muttered. From the look of it and the cadence of his words, he was half-asleep already. “Remind me first thing when I get up.”
“Sure will,” Wheeljack vowed as he tenderly watched Ratchet sleep into recharge against him, unbothered by the fact he had just become a de-facto pillow. “Sure will, Ratch.”
End