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The Best Medicine	By : ShayBoo Category: Transformers > G1 > Slash - M/M Views: 1842 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers and I make no money from writing this

Chapter List
- 1-The Best Medicine
- 1
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Screeched Ratchet, swinging around to face Bluestreak and picking up his favourite throwing wrench, the one that made the most noise.

Bluestreak flinched, “He’s fine thou, Ironhide’s bringing him back now.”

“Fine!?” Growled Ratchet, gripping the wrench tighter. “Are you a medi-bot? did you graduate the academy and become a CMO?”

“Well no,” stammered Bluestreak, “but he’s still alive and talking.......said you were his snuggle-bunny too, said he liked it when you kissed his boo-boo’s better.”

The flying wrench narrowly missed Bluestreak as he ran from the lab, followed by the shouts of an enraged medic promising to turn him into a toaster.

With a sigh Ratchet prepared his tools, making sure he had everything ready for his injured bond mate.

-------------------------------

“Spike told me the moon is made of cheese. Is it made of cheese?” Chattered a carefree Prowl, laying in the back of Ironhide, too injured to transform, but seemingly unaware of the pain in his chest.

With a grumble Ironhide sped up, “No the moon is not made of cheese, its a big hunk of rock caught in the gravitational pull of the earth.”

Prowl let the answer sink in and poked around Ironhide’s interior. “Sooo does it taste like cheese?”

“Do you even know what cheese tastes like?”

“Like hard butter?” giggled the Datsun.

Jazz and Sunstreaker drove behind Ironhide, snickering at the new, carefree Prowl and Ironhide’s slowly ebbing patience.

The mission had been simple, Jazz had picked up on an energy spike 50 miles to the east and Prime had sent them to investigate. It had been a Decepticon ambush, no one but Prowl took any damage, they were smart enough to retreat rather than fight. When they had dragged Prowl away and got him stable they sent Bluestreak ahead to inform Prime and Ratchet they needed help.

After inspecting Prowl; Jazz had quickly come to the conclusion he’d fried many of his circuits, including his pain receptors and battle computer. He wouldn’t be a hard fix for Ratchet, well not hard physically anyway.

Changing gears Ironhide spun his tires on the dirt road, deliberately sending up a cloud of dust to slow the two younger mechs who were taunting Prowl and in turn him, but only sending them into fits of giggles.

“You know ‘Hide’s just winding you up Prowl, everyone knows the moon is made of
cheddar.” Sunstreaker said, trying to keep amusement out of his voice.

“Really!?” Shouted Prowl, sitting up sharply and smacking his head on Ironhide’s roof, his chevron penetrating the thick metal.

Swerving on the road, Ironhide made a small sound of pain, “WILL YOU LAY DOWN AN’ STAY STILL!”

Wishing his could change back into robot mode to rub the sore spot, he settled for comming Ratchet for a well deserved whine.

Prowl looked sheepish as his optics settled on the hole his chevron had left, it wasn’t small and the metal had twisted outwards, just like a bullet wound. Fingering the hole Prowl tried to make it look better but only succeeded in widening it and twisting the metal further out.

Coming out the smoke Jazz swerved, narrowly missing Sunstreaker and sending them both skidding onto the soft grass at the roadside. The saboteur tried to apologize but couldn’t form any words through his laughter.

Transforming into robot mode Sunstreaker dusted himself off, annoyed at his partners antics, “whats got into you?”

Jazz transformed and fell to the grass, optics locked on to Ironhide, pointing at his roof as he tried to keep a straight face.

Following the finger Sunstreaker saw it, Prowls finger poking out of Ironhide’s roof, wriggling around like a thick, white worm. The image of the autobot SiC with his glossa poking out his mouth, stabbing at the hole like an inquisitive sparkling was enough for the Lambo, he fell over Jazz, landing on the soft spring grass in fits of hysterics.

“Ironhide’s gonna scrap him.” Jazz murmured, nuzzling into his lovers neck.

“We should do something about it,” Sunstreaker purred.

“What he thinks we don’t know won’t hurt us. Let Ratchet tell him, it’ll be fun to see the sparks fly,” Jazz grinned.

Sunstreaker growled playfully and pinned the smaller mech under him, straddling his hips and trailing a finger over his headlights. “You’re so mean. Poor Prowl has saved your sorry aft more times than I can remember, not that I’m not thankful for that, but you’re going to let Ironhide slag him?.......after we saved him.”

“Like you care, he puts you in jail more than any other bot, you know he calls you the yellow menace,” countered Jazz, arching up to the touch.

Grinning savagely, Sunstreaker stood and walked back onto the hard tarmac road, “Prowl can’t help it he loves me in cuffs, everyone loves me in cuffs.”

Jazz sniggered and transformed, stirring at much dust as he could before speeding off after Ironhide. Whining pathetically Sunstreaker followed after him, complaining about dust in his engine, but shut up as soon as Jazz mentioned a bath together.

-------------------------------

Ratchet was waiting by the med-bay doors when Ironhide and Brawn rounded the corner supporting Prowl between them. The CMO looked his lover over, a gapping wound in his chest exposed the wires and a small part of his spark chamber, had Megatron’s shot been any more centered he would have been killed instantly.

“Ratchet...it hurtssss,” whined Prowl.

“It’s meant to, you nearly off-lined...forever!” Snarled Ratchet angrily, “Get him on the table.”

Ironhide and Brawn struggled to get the uncooperative Datsun onto the table, shocked by language that would make Sunstreaker proud.

“Is he always like this when he’s injured?” Asked Brawn loudly.

Ratchet shook his head and spoke quietly, trying to keep a rein on his emotions, “no, you know Prowl, he hates being center of attention, if he’s injured he usually waits till the med bay is clear then comes in. When its been really busy in here I’ve known him to go to Wheeljack or even to Perceptor if its not that bad.”

“Yeah well I wish he was his normal self now, can’t you fix his battle computer not to freeze up like a badly designed piston?” Brawn hissed.

“No,” countered Ratchet, “If I tweaked his battle computer then he’ll loose his ability to analyze the situation as quickly as he does. We’ve talked about this before, Prowl would rather keep what he has; than loose it when it could end up saving his life.”

“Didn’t do much help today,” blurted Ironhide without thinking.

Ratchet flinched, “no, it didn’t.” He tried to hide the pain that sneaked into his voice but a look of sympathy from Ironhide told him he wasn’t doing very well.

Ironhide looked at Prowl and grimaced, “Awww I’m sorry Ratchet. I know you’ll get him patched up real good, just like you usually do.”

The CMO nodded quietly, knocking the thoughts of failing from his mind before walking over to the other side of the room to get a roll of new wires.

Prowl tried to climb off the table to follow Ratchet to the other side of the room but the strong grip of Ironhide and Brawn pinning him to the table stopped him. Feeling unsafe without his bondmate at his side Prowl kicked and twisted trying to escape the painful grip on his hands and ankles. His wings twisted painfully against hard the table, but Prowl couldn’t feel it over the pain in his chest. “TAKE YOUR HANDS OFF ME!”

“Will you quit fidgeting Prowl!’ Ironhide’s grip on the SiC’s wrists grew tighter, “ever since you got shot you’ve been a royal pain in the exhaust, you know that?”

Prowl continued fighting against his bonds, screaming out Ratchets name for help.

Placing a hand on Prowl’s chevron, Ratchet lovingly thumbed the red point at the top, “Let him go. Prowl’s like a oil-worm, the harder you grab it the slipper it gets.”

Ironhide looked at the medic with uncertainty, “you sure?”

“Yeah,” Ratchet said quietly, “he won’t fight against me.”

Ironhide and Brawn loosened their grips and took an uneasy step backwards, Prowl relaxed almost instantly, looking up at the medic with unfocused optics.

“You’ll be fine Prowl, just stay still so I can work.”

The SiC whispered a quiet ok and lay ridged, “It wasn’t my fault, Soundwave was being illogical, I tried to rationalize it but”

“you blew your battle computer...again.”

Prowl nodded, “Yeah, then Megatron shot me, or rather Soundwave shot me with Megatron.”

Ratchet winced but didn’t answer, slowly and carefully he began to clean and repair the hole. The injury wasn’t nearly as bad as he had first expected, it was just a case of a few melted wires and even fewer system shut-downs, an easy task to repair. With a grim smile Ratchet thought that maybe Bluestreak was a medic after all.

It was a while before he realized he still had an audience, “you can go if you want. I won’t be finished for a long time yet.”

The other two mechs nodded their acknowledgment and left Ratchet to work in peace. “You know you can com me anytime,” added Ironhide quietly before he left, noting Ratchet’s soft reply of yes.

After orns of working without a break Ratchet was nearing the end of the repairs. He’d already decided Prowl would suffer for worrying him so much, so he only used the minimal amount of painkilling software as he could get away with. He was sure Prowl knew what he was doing, but true to his word Prowl hadn’t moved or whined.

Ratchet hated to work on Prowl, it reminded him that the war made no exceptions about who it took. He, like Prowl, thought the war would never end and if it did the two fractions would never be friends. As a medic he was used to seeing terrible things and patching up any bot he could. Even day old sparklings ended up on his table, most of them to fragile to survive the procedures needed to save them, but like a good medic Ratchet tried.

When he lost a patient Prowl was always there to catch him, offering him nothing but love and comfort. He couldn’t imagine life ever being the same without Prowl, they’d been together so long that they never remembered being alone. Without Prowl he knew he’d die.

The thought of loosing Prowl choked the medic and he took a step back to rein his feelings in before he made a mistake. “Don’t do this to me Prowl. I’m not strong enough. Promise me you won’t die and leave me.”

Sitting up gingerly the SiC swung his legs over the table and flexed his sore wings before pulling the medic close and wrapping his arms around him. “I can’t make a promise I’m not sure I can keep. However I’ll always try my hardest to come back to you, you know that.”

“I know,” Ratchet said softly, reaching around Prowl to stroke his helm, “just when I think of being alone I want to die too.”

“You’ll never be alone,” Prowl said quietly touching the spot over Ratchets spark, “I’ll always be here.”

Leaning forward Ratchet kissed his mate softly, careful of the still healing wound. Picking the screwdriver off the table sneakily he pulled back just enough to smack his lover around the head with it. The metallic clang echoed around the large lab and Ratchet smirked, “reboot your battle computer and it will work fine now.”

Prowl did as he was told, letting out a sigh of relief to see it online again. “Thank you.”

Ratchet shrugged, putting his tools away neatly, “It’s what I do.”

“And no one does it better than you,” Prowl said proudly, pulling Ratchet into a deep kiss.

The door of the lab opened and Ironhide looked apologetic, “sorry guys, didn’t mean to barge in.”

Ratchet smiled and pulled away, “what can I do for you?”

“Well I have a little problem,” muttered Ironhide.

Ratchet raised an optic ridge, “oh?”

Sunstreaker sniggered from behind Ironhide, a golden arm draped over Jazz’s shoulders possessively, “Yeah its a deep hole his gotten himself into.”

The elder mech grumbled, “shut up. I know you know how I got it.”

“We do not!” Piped Jazz

Sunstreaker grinned at Prowl, “Nice to see you up again, did your snuggle-bunny kiss your boo-boos better?”

Prowl stood stiff, looking between Ratchet and Sunstreaker, “I didn’t say that...did I?”

Ratchet cleared his throat, “back to topic, what happened?”

Ironhide shifted on his feet, “well I have a hole.” Turning around he revealed the gaping hole Prowl left in his armor, situated right in the base of his back.

“Lay down and I’ll have it good as new.”

Ironhide lay down on the table, resting his chin on his arms.

Ratchet checked the wound and poked it softly, “this looks like it was done from the inside, all the metals bent out not in.”

Remembering the pain he felt earlier Ironhide frowned, “PROWL!!! YOU”RE SO SLAGGED!”
- 1
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The Best Medicine