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Despite missing the entire war and his criminal record expunged, Vortex had a lot of paperwork to do. Apparently that was a thing now. First Aid got lucky and did them all as they were officially instated, so about once a week. Doing them all at once was a whole new torture. But they had just survived a sparkeater, they could do a bit of paperwork.
It was far too long before First Aid was hauling Vortex into his hab. When the war ended and things were being rebuilt, there were a huge amount of options for habs. Most were pretty expensive for a mech like First Aid. But he had little need for one with the amount of time he spent away. His requirements were simple, a good size area for a larger berth, room for a little bit of cooking, and two rooms. The size of these was negotiable. What wasn’t was the presence of an oil bath able to fit his frame.
He found it in the end, a small hab that opened to a small living area able to fit a couch and a small kitchen. Through a door was a berthroom able to fit his berth that was built for one size class up. Connected was a bathroom the same size as his berth room, in it was a small solvent shower but an oil bath area able to fit them both easily.
He felt Vortex come up behind him and wrap his arms around him. Servos glided up his chassis, pausing at the patches covering his side before continuing onwards. First Aid sighed as he leaned out of the grip to guide him into the lovely oil bath.
With a few turns of the hot handle the tub began to fill quickly. A quick check of their bandages and then First Aid was nudging Vortex into the bath as it filled. The amber liquid was thicker than the water on earth and much more soothing to joints. He could see it plainly on Vortex’s relaxing frame.
Vortex laid back on the sloped edge as the warm oil soaked into his aching joints. First Aid let him soak as he collected some brushes and towels for them. He left the polish behind as it was unlikely either would be up for anything more.
“Baby~ come onnnn! Get in here. I wanna hold you again.”
First Aid rolled his eyes as he slowly climbed in, taking care to avoid straining his side. He kneeled down and settled into Vortex’s lap as the warm oil filled the rest of the way. A slight bit of steam rose up as he cut off the flow. Vortex tugged him to his chassis. First Aid rested his head as the oil soaked and warmed them.
After the oil began to shill slightly and the suns began to set, First Aid forced Vortex’s helm back and began to dig dirt out of his seams. Once done, Vortex took the brush and did the same.
By the time they were done, the night had long settled in. An oddly peaceful mood had overtaken them as they laid in their large berth. Vortex nuzzled into his neck, careful not to put his weight on the still injured mech. First Aid wrapped his arms tight around Vortex’s neck, content for the first time in a long time to be wrapped in silence.
He didn’t know when they fell asleep but he knew he woke up to the sound of frantic banging on his door and pinging his comms. With a groan, he shoved Vortex off and opened the door.
He barely had the door cracked before Ratchet was barreling in and inspecting the still asleep mech. It was endearing even if First Aid woudl like to be back in recharge.
“What the frag happened? You look like someone tried to eat you?!”
First Aid couldn’t get a word in as he was pushed into a chair and Ratchet had a med kit out on the table. He didn’t mean to tune him out, Ratchet had the best intentions, but he was tired and Vortex was warm and-
First Aid was suddenly very awake. He looked to the berthroom door, thanking every diety that the door was still shut as he had left it. He closed his optics with a sigh of relief.
There was a tiny click and Ratchet’s talking was abruptly cut off.
“Who’s this?”
That rumbling voice would have normally been a relief but with a blaster to the back of Ratchet’s helm, it was a little less comforting. Vortex was looking at him intently, not a trace of recharge iin his frame as he held the medic at gunpoint.
“Vortex, this is Ratchet. He’s the CMO for the Autobots and my friend. Please put the gun down.”
Vortex put it down next to the med kit without a second thought. Vortex took the last open seat at the table and dragged in next to First Aid. He sat with a sigh and slouched. He was watching Ratchet with a look that could only be described as a predatory deciding if something is food. Ratchet wasn’t giving in.
He turned his attention back to the hole in First Aid after sending a final glare to the copter. Vortex smiled with pride at winning the little staring contest.
“So, who’s the stray?”
Vortex smiled wider, “Vortex. First Aid found me on a prison ship and saved my spark. Literally.”
Ratchet shot First Aid a look.
“Must’ve been an Autobot one. What got you on there?”
Vortex propped an arm on the back of the chair as he tilted his head to look at First Aid. He raised a servo to brush his clawed digits against First Aid’s cheek. It tickled as it brushed past. FIrst Aid held back a shiver.
“No no, I’m before all that scrap.”
Ratchet jerked his helm to look at Vortex then to First Aid then back again.
“What?”
First Aid laughed nervously, “The ship was pre-war. He was in spark-containment so by new laws, his crimes were expunged. Doesn’t help that his sentence ended more than 3.2 million stellar cycles ago.”
Ratchet’s shocked expression didn’t change. He was lost for words as he finished working on First Aid. With a change of position, he looked at Vortex’s wounds. Vortex didn’t resist.
Vortex tried to break the silence the worst way he knew how. Even worse that it was on purpose.
“And then I woke up to the hottest medic underneath me. Coulda sworn it was a dream.” Ratchet opened his intake to say something but was cut off by Vortex continuing his teasing, “Too bad that sparkeater thing happened. I only got to frag First Aid like once before that scrap went down.”
Ratchet stood sharply and turned to First Aid, servos on hips. “Keep your stash in the same spot?”
In all fairness, that’s really what this needed. Vortex’s optics sparkled at the mention of engex. Ratchet poured three cups but hestitated when it came to Vortex but gave in eventually.
“Alright, start from the beginning.” Ratchet cut them off, “No need to include the interfacing bits.”
Vortex deflated, pouting as he crossed his arms. First Aid hid the small smile as he rolled his optics and began the tale.
It was three drinks and several joors later when First Aid was finally finished with the story. Ratchet had finished tending to both of them and was now rubbing his temples. He held a servo up to give him a moment to process. First Aid relaxed back into the chair and took a sip of his drink.
“I’m going to have to tell Optimus about this. Or at least put a notice out to be careful with pre-war prison transports.”
First Aid nodded in understanding. Though he didn’t know how to feel with all the attention on them. Vortex wouldn’t mind it but First Aid could see many mechs take too much of an interest in a mech who never experienced the war and was a high quality cold construct, a living weapon even before that became the standard. First Aid wouldn’t enjoy the special attention but Vortex would bask and then someone would get stabbed.
“Would it be possible to keep this quiet. We don’t want attention.”
Ratchet nodded and stood to take his leave. With a sharp glance at Vortex, he shut the hab suite door behind him. First Aid groaned as he felt light begin to stream in through the window. Before he could do a thing, Vortex scooped him up and hauled him back to the berth.
“No. Recharge. Now.”
First Aid laughed as he opened his arms for Vortex to fall into.