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"What is the point of having your number if you never pick up the fragging phone?" Startled, your hold on the device wavers as you yank it away from your ear, his volume loud and displeased. "I've been trying to contact you all damn morning, where have you been?"
His grouchiness overlays his concern, but it's not as heavy as it normally is, bearable to a wide extent. "Sorry. I got caught up with something, but I have a free minute. What's up?"
Ratchet sputters, and his engine revs theatrically in the background alerting you that he's driving, likely on the way to your house. "Oh, you can spare me a minute?" That may not have been the best sentence to say, even in your delirious state. "And you got 'caught up with something?' y/n, that is probably the poorest excuse I've ever heard, and trust me, I've heard it all."
Your nose wrinkles, carefully surveying your options in the next reply you dare provide. It would appear no matter what you said unless it was the plain truth, it would not satisfy the doctor. "I...can I try again?" It comes out eventually, meek and stifled with exhaustion alongside a bout of attempted humor.
"Can you what?!" Wrong choice slapping you profoundly in the face, the phone moves apart from your ear as he shouts. "Did you hit your head? What the scrap is the matter with you?"
Sighing, you stand off the couch, hesitantly bringing the phone back to your ear, achy joints expecting his anger to flare once more. "It's been a long day," You start, pausing in case he decides to interject. "I was sleeping when you called, I really am sorry."
"It is only two in the afternoon," It's quieter, but still overmuch alarmed. "And sleeping? This isn't like you. I know your schedule very well, you don't take your 'naps' at this time of day." The fact that Ratchet claims to know your schedule is amusing, but you don't have the energy to tease him for the sentiment.
"I was-" You move around the furniture, heading into the kitchen for a glass of water. "I was tired, Ratch. I didn't get much sleep last night." Part of you questioned if divulging the medic was the best idea, for he would only insist upon checking you over and monitoring your symptoms if he found any.
"And why is that? Assignments, or work-related activities?" Unable to remember the last time you felt such fatigue, the only thing you wanted at this very moment was to go back to sleep, alone, in a dark room. "It better not have been to watch garbage on television."
"That doesn't matter." You start, knowing what comes next.
"It does." Going to argue back, you spin to the window in the kitchen as the tell-tale sound of a truck coming down the road reaches your ears. "Open the garage, now. I'm outside."
Groaning, the line clicks dead, leaving no option available to defend the idea that you were fine. You could hide, and claim you weren't home, but you know he's seen your car in the driveway already, and he wouldn't leave until he saw you. With dread, you watch the red and white ambulance pull onto the pavement, radiating the vibe that you were really in for it this afternoon.
"Hi Ratchet," Your palm hits the button that opens the garage door, exasperation filling your tone as he pulls inside. "So kind of you to say you were dropping by."
"Hush up, I've just about had it with your nonsense." He doesn't mean it, because he wouldn't be here if he did. "If you run and lock yourself inside like last time, I will throw something at you."
The idea had crossed your mind, but you knew it was all in vain, even if you did try such an escape. "Yeah, okay. I'll just remember to wash you with paint stripper next time around."
"That is not funny." His passenger-side door pops open, impatience showing clear as day. "Get in y/n. And it's not a request."
Your hand squeezes into a fist, but relents, knowing you were at the end of a losing battle. "Fine. Can I go get my bag, at least?"
As if he was anticipating you to quarrel with him, Ratchet begins his sentence without thinking. "I just said-!" When he processes your words, his voice box spatters, followed by an ex-vent. "Very well. But don't try anything, I'll be waiting."
You disappear back through the interior garage door, back into your kitchen, and out of Ratchet's line of sight. In his initial investigation, your outward appearance seemed normal, with no obvious signs of trauma or injury. Still, you did have an aura of distress and melancholy, even if you were bickering with him habitually. Ratchet reviews his options, mindful of what he understood was the best solution to your long day, and after a few kliks pass, you return to the garage, bag on your shoulder as you close the door over behind you.
"Told you I'd be right back," Shuffling around the ambulance, you step up into his cabin, sliding into the seat as the door swings shut.
"I have validation for my wariness." His center console blinks as he speaks. "If you must sleep, go ahead. I'll be quiet."
"I'm good," Head tilting back, you're met with the soft beige of the headrest, and seatbelt clicking over your waist. "I'm sure you'll give me a run for my money when we get back to the base, so I'll sleep after."
"You're lucky that I don't understand that idiom, or I'd probably leave you on the side of the road." Another jab he has no intention of following through with. "Are you going to discuss then why you are so exhausted? And don't give me the scrap about how you didn't sleep well. I know that. I want to know what was keeping you up."
The urge to scream at him 'You aren't my doctor' is irresistible. You physically have to bite your lip, staring out the window with declination in your body language, but you have to take a step back to confront the larger picture. Ratchet hardly ever left the base, and it appears this journey was made entirely on your behalf, but the reason you felt so coddled and overwhelmed was that he was demonstrating compassion the only way he knew how. Ratchet was a worrier at heart, and him coming out here because he couldn't get ahold of you made guilt settle in the bottom of your stomach.
"I know you're not ignoring me, y/n." His voice is flat as the seat nudges your back. "You're on such thin ice, I-"
"I'm sorry." It comes out a bit more warble than you intend, watching as his rearview mirror tilts downwards to look at you. "I was up all night overthinking. My brain was going a hundred miles a minute, I-" Your voice hitches, swallowing down a sob that rises in your throat. "You were only trying to help. I'm sorry."
Ratchet doesn't reply immediately, but the mirror doesn't move from its position. Eventually, he ex-vents, and you can picture him hanging his helm in a defeated manner, unsure of what he could possibly say to make you feel better.
"I should have just told you." You say quietly, looking back out the window. "It really has been a long day, but I'm okay now, Ratch. I swear, I would never lie to you."
"I know that." It's insistent, but he cannot get the image of you near tears out of his processor. "I would still like to review your vitals back on base, just to make sure you truly are fine."
A soft smile crawls onto your rosy cheeks, nodding twice. "Sure, if it'll give you better piece of mind."
"You're going to be the death of me yet, y/n." Your window rolls down halfway, enjoying the breeze that hits your face. "Would you rest better at the base, or shall I take you back home after the evaluation?"
"Are you going to take a nap with me?" You blink, silently begging him to say yes.
"That wasn't an option." He comes to a stop at a red light. "You have two. Pick one."
"You asked where I would sleep better?" Ratchet knows he shouldn't entertain this, but he dares to answer.
"Yes. Pick one, or I'll pick for you." He makes the left turn as the light switches green.
"In your arms," A pout overcomes your face as he barks a laugh, obviously unamused.
"Forget I asked. I'm taking you back home straight after." The pout melds into a scowl, but you relent, leaning back into his seat as the two of you roll down desert roads. You knew you could do better damage at the base, eyelids drooping as a yawn builds in your mouth. Maybe you would be able to better convince him in person, but for now, you take it with stride as the cool afternoon air swipes across your face.