No. Just… No.
Title: No. Just… No.
Author: AotA
Rating: K
Warnings: None
Characters: Ratchet, Ironhide
Setting: Bayverse, prior to reaching Earth
Summary: Ratchet is doing checkups and there’s a spot of something on Ironhide’s armor.
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers.
Notes: Written for Prompt #5 “Cosmic Rust” October 23, 2010, off of tf_speedwriting . I took 22 minutes.
Ratchet was busy giving checkups when he noticed an unusual spot on Ironhide’s armor. Frowning, he prodded Ironhide into a different position so that he could look at it directly.
“Rust, Ironhide? What have you been doing that you have rust?”
“What? I don’t have rust!”
“Then what’s that?” Ratchet jabbed the spot with a finger.
Ironhide yelped and leaned away from the medic, “It’s not rust!”
“Who is the medic here?” Ratchet grabbed Ironhide and tried to get a closer look but was fended off by a very defensive mech.
Ratchet frowned severely at his patient. “You are making me very suspicious Ironhide. You’d best give it up before I drag it out of you.”
“It’s not rust,” Ironhide muttered, trying to edge out of the med bay. Ratchet just remotely closed and locked the door, locking them both inside. He crossed his arms and gave Ironhide the I disapprove of what you are doing, but I know you’re not going to listen to anything I say so I’m not going to bother saying it.
Ironhide found it kind of sad that he could read all of that just from glancing at Ratchet. They had obviously been associating together too long if he knew all that considering he wasn’t that great at reading body language. Still. He wasn’t going to let Ratchet win. He didn’t have rust, in any way, shape, or form.
Author: AotA
Rating: K
Warnings: None
Characters: Ratchet, Ironhide
Setting: Bayverse, prior to reaching Earth
Summary: Ratchet is doing checkups and there’s a spot of something on Ironhide’s armor.
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers.
Notes: Written for Prompt #5 “Cosmic Rust” October 23, 2010, off of tf_speedwriting . I took 22 minutes.
Ratchet was busy giving checkups when he noticed an unusual spot on Ironhide’s armor. Frowning, he prodded Ironhide into a different position so that he could look at it directly.
“Rust, Ironhide? What have you been doing that you have rust?”
“What? I don’t have rust!”
“Then what’s that?” Ratchet jabbed the spot with a finger.
Ironhide yelped and leaned away from the medic, “It’s not rust!”
“Who is the medic here?” Ratchet grabbed Ironhide and tried to get a closer look but was fended off by a very defensive mech.
Ratchet frowned severely at his patient. “You are making me very suspicious Ironhide. You’d best give it up before I drag it out of you.”
“It’s not rust,” Ironhide muttered, trying to edge out of the med bay. Ratchet just remotely closed and locked the door, locking them both inside. He crossed his arms and gave Ironhide the I disapprove of what you are doing, but I know you’re not going to listen to anything I say so I’m not going to bother saying it.
Ironhide found it kind of sad that he could read all of that just from glancing at Ratchet. They had obviously been associating together too long if he knew all that considering he wasn’t that great at reading body language. Still. He wasn’t going to let Ratchet win. He didn’t have rust, in any way, shape, or form.