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Tarn stirred awake. The glow from the Messatine sun shining in his optics. The window just to his left radiating warmth, contrast to the freezing air outside. He didn’t bother shuffling, as to not wake up the frame next to him. So instead he rested back, his canon arm lying behind his helm.
He glanced over at the side table where there was a familiar medical data pad and mask sitting ontop. He chuckled. The medic had come over to check on Tarn, since Nickel had opened her mouth about his recent problem. Naturally, Pharma got worried and rushed over. Surprised Tarn, to say the least. The tank hadn’t expected the concern.
There was small hums and ticks from the equipment that remains on. But nothing loud enough to stir the medic awake. The slightly smaller mech only shuffled closer, letting out a quiet rev before falling back into recharge. It was a sight Tarn got used to fairly quickly. After almost every long and exhausting medical check up. The flier would usually stay a bit, claiming he was too tired to fly back.
After-all, Tarn was the only work the medic gets nowadays. Since Delphi was shut down due to the doctors unwavering attempt at a virus.
Tarn kept his free servo rested on the mesh of Pharmas waist. Just next to the golden glass. The doctor had always been slightly slimmer than most medics Tarn had ran into. Many of whom he had only seen during his time as Damus. The flier was built for medicine, built for being dainty and quick. But part of Tarn could also see the fire within. The burning passion to fight.
Tarn opened his in-take before his processor buzzed. An incoming call interrupted him. He groaned with annoyance, making sure he didn’t rev his engine. He didn’t want to wake the medic up. Even as the blistering heat between their vents made him increasingly uncomfortable. But nonetheless he kept caressing the protoform and picked up the call.
“What?” Tarn quickly hissed. Hearing a yelp on the other side. While the call came from main base, it was clearly an inexperienced Vehicon of some kind. “Sorry to bother you.” The scared mech started, clearing his throat. Or whatever passes for doing such. Tarn hummed, silently telling the bot to get on with it, before he hangs up.
“Main Base wanted me to..to make sure you were staying on task.” Tarn frowned, he’s not sure the Vehicon dialled the right number. Usually his tasks were monitored by himself, out of jurisdiction. “You have the wrong mech, Vehicon.” Tarn replied, an edge to his voice. “O..Oh! Who is this, then?” The quivering bot asked.
Tarn rolled his optics. “Tarn. The leader of the D.J.D.” The mech on the other side of the line went silent. There was a brief groan next to him, and he felt a shuffle against his plating. The medic slowly opened his optics. Letting them flicker to life. The blue was dimmed, a lot dimmer than when Tarn first met him. That would have to be addressed at some point.
“Hang up..” Pharma mumbled. Clearly annoyed by the other voice and not Tarns. The tank isn’t sure what Pharmas obsession with his accent is, but he gratefully accepts the welcomed response. The constant purring sound Pharmas vents make when Tarn speaks. Especially during more intimate actions. “Please.” Pharma pushed, looking slightly up at the tank.
Tarn wordlessly nodded and hung up. Ignoring the gasp on the other side of the line. He just kept a stern gaze at the doctor. Red optics meeting dim blue ones. Tarn didn’t care for the colour of Pharmas optics, or the insignia on his chest plates. He stopped caring a while ago, back when Pharma first announced his devotion.
Tarn let out a short breath. His engine quietly revving. The distance between them was mere inches. The doctor hummed and shifted, brining his non-trapped arm around Tarns neck. The other was pinned under his frame weight and against the berth. His thumb caressed the tanks wires, near his voice module. It was a sensitive place, and Tarn rarely let Pharma near it.
But under the warm embrace and loving glance. The sensitivity wore off. He couldn’t find it in himself to remove the intruding servo, only welcoming it. “You’re more clingy than usual.” Tarn said, his voice clicking to life, as if it had been stuck together. Pharma only chuckled. Tapping a servo against Tarns lip plating. “Someone needs a voice check,” the doctor teased.
“But yes, it seems I am.” Pharma replied, shuffling closer. His trapped servo came up and caressed the front of Tarns armour. Right over the symbol he once hated. Now grew to love. Pharma may not believe in the cause entirely, he may have found the faction thing to be grotesque or unnecessary. But he understood why Tarn did what he did, what Damus is no longer active anymore.
“Nickel told me…” Pharma started, his optics shifted down. The hexagons within the glass moved and spun slightly. Showing that they were looking somewhere else. “I was so worried..” Pharma finished. Not bothering to expand his fears. Tarn knew what Pharma meant, and part of Tarn still tasted the after effects. Part of his frame still felt the soaking feeling. But he buried it once he had the medic in his arms.
“I apologize, Doctor.” Pharma just huffed. Patting Tarn lightly. “Stop with the doctor thing…” the medic bit his lip, looking back up at Tarn. A glow in his optics, the hexagons shifted once more, turning, as if examining Tarns features. The tank shifted slightly under the heated gaze. “We are more than just acquaintances now, Tarn..” something inside the leader jumped, his grip got a little tighter.
“Indeed we are, my dear.” That got a smile out of Pharma.