![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ayngelcatTitle: First Aid’s Secret
Universe: G1
Rating: NC17
Characters: First Aid, Groove, Drag Strip
Warnings: Explicit talk of P&P sexual encounters
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, or any of the characters or scenarios from the series within this story
Prompt: from Master prompt list 02 June 2010
Notes This didn’t fit any prompts this time and I really wanted to write it. Sequel to “The Incompatible medics,” same verse as “The other Copter” and part of “substitute” story.
FIRST AID'S SECRET
First Aid didn’t know when he first got ‘ideas’ about a certain Decepticon 'copter. But it may very well have been the day that he had that obnoxious yellow racer in the medbay ....
………………
A wicked grin spread over the faceplates of the Stunticon as First Aid entered, closely followed by Groove. He let his legs flop wide and putting his weight on his good one, thrust up and down. “Ooohh yeah!” he croaked, “it hurts right in here!” Then his optics fell upon the energon cuffs in First Aid’s hand. “All right! “ he yelled.
The medic took no notice of the display at all, putting the cuffs down and instead focusing his optics on Drag Strip’s groin with a most professional expression. “Hmmmnn!” he said. I can’t see anything wrong there at all! It’s your lower leg that’s in strife, and I really should attend to that first. But all the same …”
Groove had come up beside him and was staring at the lower leg, a mass of ugly wires and shattered conduits and congealed energon where the shell had blown off the panels. “Get some heal-fast liniment would you, Groove?” First Aid said. “That’s probably enough to do the trick on the groin whilst we patch up this mess here.”
He looked more closely at the injuries as Groove crossed swiftly to a trolley at the side of the ward. Picking up a cloth, the bike soaked it in some liquid standing prepared in a small dish, then returned, handing it to First Aid. “Here.” The medic laid the cloth on Drag Strip’s groin.
“What good’s that gonna …. Arrrggghhhh!” Drag Strip yelled as First Aid lifted his leg.
“Rrrrgghhhh doc ….. aarrrrrrgggghhh ….!” ” he bawled.
“Ok, easy!” said First Aid, carefully replacing the leg. “That’s worse than I thought. I’ll have to operate, I’m afraid. Can you fetch the general anaesthetic machine from next door?” he said to Groove.
“Sure” the other Protectobot headed off.
Drag Strip’s optics widened in horror. “Narrrgggghhh!!” he wailed. “You ain’t putting me under , you pile of medical garbage! I’ll … I’ll ….” And he tried to raise himself but found himself too weak, straight away collapsing back down again.
First Aid put his hands on his hips and looked at him, quizzically. “Why d’you have a fear of anaesthetics?” he asked.
“Dunno what you filthy Autobot scum are gonna do while I’m out, do I?”
“Only the best I can do to patch that leg up,” said First Aid matter of factly. “I’m duty bound to fix your injuries. And I intend to. Whether you resist me or not. It will be much easier if you don’t.”
The door hissed, then, and Groove re-entered the room, pushing a trolley on which sat a large machine with various connectors and dials attached. The assembly rattled threateningly.
“Nooooo!” wailed Drag strip, squirming.
First Aid put up a hand and Groove stopped midway across the room. “Hmmmnn …. This really does frighten you.” He said.
Drag Strip appeared to recover a little. He half propped himself on his elbows. “Not all that much!” he snarled.
“It’s OK to be scared.” Said First Aid. “I’ve seen much larger mechs be very frightened of being put out.”
Drag Strip didn’t respond this time. He grimaced, flopping back on to his back.
“Don’t worry. Neither Groove or I are able to tell anyone about your fears,” said First Aid. “But I think, perhaps, another method may be preferable. Groove! if you could put that machine back! We’ll do a local.”
If Groove was annoyed at all by this string of commands, it showed not one iota. Smiling cheerfully, he wheeled the trolley back in the direction from which he’d come. The doors opened and hissed shut behind him.
“What you gonna do?” said Drag Strip, his optics still shuttered.
“Give me your arm.”
“You gonna jack in?” said Drag Strip, perking up immediately. “Hey! Way to go!” He held out his wrist, suddenly looking much happier.
“Hmmnn, interesting,” First Aid said, when he had flipped open a panel on the racer’s wrist. “Two medical access ports. Must be your prototype. Racer here has two as well.”
“That the blue and white smexbomb?” Drag Strip had the wicked grin again.
“Mirage, yes,” said First Aid. “Ah, Groove!” he said, as the nurse re-entered the room. “Come over here. If I help you set up a local block, you think you can keep it in place whilst I operate? I find it a more palatable method for the patient.”
“Sure!” said the bike.
The two medical bots each drew out connectors and cables, plugging into Drag Strip’s two access ports at the same time.
“Aw doc!” Drag Strip said weakly, squirming on the berth. “Hey, you’d best operate fast. Don’t know if I can control meeself!”
First Aid did a quick scan of the racer’s systems, noting the precise details of the injured leg. Then he deftly separated the Stunticon’s sensor net from the limb's network, and transferred the holding code to Groove. “Keep it steady.” He said. “This shouldn’t take too long.”
Removing his connector, he crossed to the prepared trolley and pulled it over.
…………….
First Aid worked quickly and efficiently, clamping off the ruined energon conduits and severing them, carefully teasing out the damages circuitry, snipping and tidying. A pile of Drag Strip’s bits and pieces sat in a kidney dish on the trolley. Groove, meanwhile, pulled up the berthside chair and sat down, maintaining the local ‘block’ with a casual proficiency. He hummed, softly.
Drag Strip strip’s optics roved across the ceiling. The pleasant aromatherapy scent wafted through his olfactory sensors and he was acutely aware of the presence of the bike connected to his wrist. He yawned.
“Hmmmmnn ! I feel all kinda - drowsy! he said to First Aid. “It’s that pong. And - him! He’s making me all sorta - relaxed.”
“Good!” First Aid gave a half smile. That’s the intention. Groove is very good at helping mechs relax. That’s why he is my nurse.”
Drag Strip was quiet for a moment. Then he snickered. “Yeah!” he said. “He’s gotta be better than some of that other lot of yours. That copter’d be shit at this!”
“We all have our strengths and weaknesses, Drag strip,” said First Aid. “Blades is very good at some things which Groove is not.”
Drag Strip burst into dirty laughter. “Oh really? What?” he cackled. “Hey – I really wanted to ask ….” He controlled himself a little, “do you lot – you know – get it on with each other. Gestalt style” His optics glittered red.
“Drag Strip, I’m sure that however different the Stunticons may be, you’re as bound by Gestalt confidentiality as I am,” First Aid said crisply. “Much as you may be fascinated by such details, I cannot disclose them”
“Aw come on doc! The Stunts frag each other. I don’t mind telling you that!”
But First Aid didn’t reply, hauling out a large section of conduit and dumping it in the dish. Groove’s soft humming sounded from beside the berth.
“What about other Autobozos?” said the Stunticon. “I bet there’s a pile of them wanna get their connectors into you!”
Groove grinned to himself and First Aid gave a slight smile. “Maybe!” he said crisply.
“And would ya?” Drag strip sounded encouraged.
“My professional responsibilities prevent me from forming associations with patients,” said First Aid, reaching out for a length of circuit wire and measuring it up. “It would be quite out of the question.”
“Yeah?” said Drag Strip. “Awwww ! What a pain in the aft! Bet you wanna, sometimes.”
“That is neither here nor there.”
First Aid worked on, retrieving from the trolley a small solder gun and starting to splice wires. The smell of singed circuitry blended with the more pleasant aroma. Only little crackles, the faint hum of their combined engines and the other humming sounded in the med room. “Does that - professional scrap - extend to – Decepticon patients?” ventured Drag strip, determined that this conversation should not be at an end.
First Aid held up two flaps of ligament, trying to decide whether to repair them before or after he’d finished the circuits. “It applies to any patient,” he said.
Drag Strip snorted, “Pity,” he said, the wicked grin returning. “Cos a lot of Cons think you’re the hottest bot on the planet!”
Groove shifted slightly. The humming ceased. “Is that so?” First Aid tried to appear as nonchalant as before, but in fact, he flushed slightly. The Stunticon had a view of First Aid's face from where he lay, and it didn't escape his attention.
“Yeah! Lot of ‘em gonna be real jealous when they find out about this! Lot of ‘em’d pay to get fixed up by you!” He was quiet, his optics on First Aid’s face. “You, mind. Not that other miserable git what works with you.”
“I work with him, Drag Strip. And he’s a very reputable surgeon. Please don’t speak of him in that way!”
“Whatever!” said the Stunticon, disappointed that the sudden face plate change had not been repeated.
There were a few more moments silence and only the sound of First Aid’s scissors snipping and a soft metal rustling. “If it was him, I wouldna been like this!” said Drag strip. “It woulda been more like – he’da got his face smashed in!”
First Aid gave the ghost of a smile. “That wouldn’t have been very helpful,” he said. “How would you have gotten your leg fixed then?”
“Drag Strip stared at the ceiling, considering. “I dunno, do I?” he said. “I’da found some way.”
…………………
In truth, First Aid had to make an effort not to show his pleasure at the revelation. He was seen as the ‘main medic!’ It sent small thrills through his circuits. Better still, he was - apparently – something of a ‘pin up’ in the Decepticon ranks!
The medic could not help but feel flattered, if a little - surprised - at himself at discovering how much he appreciated the fact. And it was then, just then, that First Aid found himself consumed by thoughts of one Decepticon in particular - a Combaticon, to be precise – and he suddenly had the greatest urge to ask Drag Strip: “Who – exactly – has this attraction?"
Hastily, he reached for the lengths of replacement conduit and a laser scalpel, and concentrated on cutting and splicing them, doing his best to suppress the tingles which suddenly rolled over his sensor net as surprise turned to shock.
Drag Strip rolled his head to one side. He yawned again. “That blue and white racer. Can you tell him I reckon he’s a bit of all right?”
“I’ll pass the message on,” said First Aid, thinking how Mirage would be oh - so - rapt - NOT! at this information. Yet he was even more alarmed; because he was - he realized - disappointed that Dragstrip had stopped talking about Decepticons lusting after him.
“He’s not as ‘all right” as you though, doc!” Drag Strip drawled. “You got some real hard core fans among our lot. I heard ‘em talking, see! T Changers, Seekers …. Copters ....”
First Aid’s circuitry gave a jolt. The tip of the lazer scalpel flared and it slipped, accidentally severing a piece of circuitry he hadn’t intended severing – although luckily it was not important. “Really?” he said, hastily steadying his hand. “That’s uh - interesting!”
Oh PRIMUS! First Aid wanted to slap himself. But it was too late. Drag Strip propped himself up, a grin splitting his face from audial to audial.
“Aha!” he said. “So you got a thing for that copter too, huh? Heheh – well whaddya know?” he lay back down, chortling. “Actually, with that one, you got a bit of competition!” he grinned. “ But don’t worry doc. I can put the word in. An’ I won’t say nothing!”
Groove – so quiet First Aid had almost forgotten he was there - gave an audible smirk.
Appalled, First Aid shot him a ‘look.’ The Stunticon was delighted.
“Tell ya what – I’ll smack him around a bit when he’s offline, then he can get brought in here to patch up!”
Composing himself, First Aid soldered the last conduit into place and started on the ligaments.
“I assure you my attitude would be no different no matter who the Combatic … the patient was!” He said tartly, cringing inside again.
Drag Strip was still grinning. “Reckon you’d make a neat pair, you and Vortex,” he chuckled. “Cute!”
First Aid felt himself go hot all over. He was extremely glad, at that moment, that it was Groove who was plugged into the racer and not him. “Oh really?” he said, wanting to bite off his glossa.
“Yeah! He likes small, smart types. Like that jeep. But the jeep’s an aft. They fight all the time.”
Something else, an insatiable curiosity, swept through First Aid. He fought a sudden urge to ask about this, to get all the morbid details of the Decepticon 'copter's tempestuous relationship with Swindle. As he had heard rumored it was. He crushed the thought instantly. “I don’t think your superiors would be pleased at you divulging such details, Drag Strip!” he snapped.
Groove started to hum again, and Drag Strip let out a sigh, shuttering his optics, sleepy once more and now wanting this to be over. “Eh well, you got a point!’ he sighed.
……………………
“There!” said First Aid applying the last panel and wiping away the remaining smudges of energon with a cleanser soaked cloth. “Groove, if you could open the pathways to the sensor new, and Drag strip if you could just give groove a little ‘twinge’, just so I know your neural network is fully functional!”
Throwing the rag down on the trolley, he wheeled it away, glad that the racer had drifted off for the rest of the operation and he had been entirely able to banish certain ’thoughts’ from his processor.
“Hey!” There was a crash of metal as Groove jerked in the chair behind him. “Hey! I thought you were still half asleep, mech! Doc said a ‘little twinge’”
“I’m good – even when I’m offline!” Drag Strip cackled. “You like that?” Groove chuckled, saying nothing. Over by the trolley, First Aid darkened.
“Reckon you’d be almost as good a ‘face as him!”
“Yeah, mech! Well I …”
“Groove!” First Aid turned sharply. “Would you mind disconnecting!” he noted with annoyance that the other Protectobot wore a silly smile.
“Sure” said Groove. “Hey - sorry to do this to you!” He pulled out the connection with a ‘click.’
“Awwww - shame!” said Drag Strip. “It’ll have to wait I guess.”
Groove opened his mouth to say something, but First Aid cut in, sternly. “Drag Strip - rest!” he said. He frowned at Groove, “A word outside, if you please!”
The response was very predictable. “Sure thing! No worries!” Groove raised an optic ridge at the racer, then coasted off toward the door with First Aid following briskly. It closed behind them, leaving the Stunticon alone in the room, still chuckling.
To be continued ….
Universe: G1
Rating: NC17
Characters: First Aid, Groove, Drag Strip
Warnings: Explicit talk of P&P sexual encounters
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, or any of the characters or scenarios from the series within this story
Prompt: from Master prompt list 02 June 2010
Notes This didn’t fit any prompts this time and I really wanted to write it. Sequel to “The Incompatible medics,” same verse as “The other Copter” and part of “substitute” story.
FIRST AID'S SECRET
First Aid didn’t know when he first got ‘ideas’ about a certain Decepticon 'copter. But it may very well have been the day that he had that obnoxious yellow racer in the medbay ....
………………
A wicked grin spread over the faceplates of the Stunticon as First Aid entered, closely followed by Groove. He let his legs flop wide and putting his weight on his good one, thrust up and down. “Ooohh yeah!” he croaked, “it hurts right in here!” Then his optics fell upon the energon cuffs in First Aid’s hand. “All right! “ he yelled.
The medic took no notice of the display at all, putting the cuffs down and instead focusing his optics on Drag Strip’s groin with a most professional expression. “Hmmmnn!” he said. I can’t see anything wrong there at all! It’s your lower leg that’s in strife, and I really should attend to that first. But all the same …”
Groove had come up beside him and was staring at the lower leg, a mass of ugly wires and shattered conduits and congealed energon where the shell had blown off the panels. “Get some heal-fast liniment would you, Groove?” First Aid said. “That’s probably enough to do the trick on the groin whilst we patch up this mess here.”
He looked more closely at the injuries as Groove crossed swiftly to a trolley at the side of the ward. Picking up a cloth, the bike soaked it in some liquid standing prepared in a small dish, then returned, handing it to First Aid. “Here.” The medic laid the cloth on Drag Strip’s groin.
“What good’s that gonna …. Arrrggghhhh!” Drag Strip yelled as First Aid lifted his leg.
“Rrrrgghhhh doc ….. aarrrrrrgggghhh ….!” ” he bawled.
“Ok, easy!” said First Aid, carefully replacing the leg. “That’s worse than I thought. I’ll have to operate, I’m afraid. Can you fetch the general anaesthetic machine from next door?” he said to Groove.
“Sure” the other Protectobot headed off.
Drag Strip’s optics widened in horror. “Narrrgggghhh!!” he wailed. “You ain’t putting me under , you pile of medical garbage! I’ll … I’ll ….” And he tried to raise himself but found himself too weak, straight away collapsing back down again.
First Aid put his hands on his hips and looked at him, quizzically. “Why d’you have a fear of anaesthetics?” he asked.
“Dunno what you filthy Autobot scum are gonna do while I’m out, do I?”
“Only the best I can do to patch that leg up,” said First Aid matter of factly. “I’m duty bound to fix your injuries. And I intend to. Whether you resist me or not. It will be much easier if you don’t.”
The door hissed, then, and Groove re-entered the room, pushing a trolley on which sat a large machine with various connectors and dials attached. The assembly rattled threateningly.
“Nooooo!” wailed Drag strip, squirming.
First Aid put up a hand and Groove stopped midway across the room. “Hmmmnn …. This really does frighten you.” He said.
Drag Strip appeared to recover a little. He half propped himself on his elbows. “Not all that much!” he snarled.
“It’s OK to be scared.” Said First Aid. “I’ve seen much larger mechs be very frightened of being put out.”
Drag Strip didn’t respond this time. He grimaced, flopping back on to his back.
“Don’t worry. Neither Groove or I are able to tell anyone about your fears,” said First Aid. “But I think, perhaps, another method may be preferable. Groove! if you could put that machine back! We’ll do a local.”
If Groove was annoyed at all by this string of commands, it showed not one iota. Smiling cheerfully, he wheeled the trolley back in the direction from which he’d come. The doors opened and hissed shut behind him.
“What you gonna do?” said Drag Strip, his optics still shuttered.
“Give me your arm.”
“You gonna jack in?” said Drag Strip, perking up immediately. “Hey! Way to go!” He held out his wrist, suddenly looking much happier.
“Hmmnn, interesting,” First Aid said, when he had flipped open a panel on the racer’s wrist. “Two medical access ports. Must be your prototype. Racer here has two as well.”
“That the blue and white smexbomb?” Drag Strip had the wicked grin again.
“Mirage, yes,” said First Aid. “Ah, Groove!” he said, as the nurse re-entered the room. “Come over here. If I help you set up a local block, you think you can keep it in place whilst I operate? I find it a more palatable method for the patient.”
“Sure!” said the bike.
The two medical bots each drew out connectors and cables, plugging into Drag Strip’s two access ports at the same time.
“Aw doc!” Drag Strip said weakly, squirming on the berth. “Hey, you’d best operate fast. Don’t know if I can control meeself!”
First Aid did a quick scan of the racer’s systems, noting the precise details of the injured leg. Then he deftly separated the Stunticon’s sensor net from the limb's network, and transferred the holding code to Groove. “Keep it steady.” He said. “This shouldn’t take too long.”
Removing his connector, he crossed to the prepared trolley and pulled it over.
…………….
First Aid worked quickly and efficiently, clamping off the ruined energon conduits and severing them, carefully teasing out the damages circuitry, snipping and tidying. A pile of Drag Strip’s bits and pieces sat in a kidney dish on the trolley. Groove, meanwhile, pulled up the berthside chair and sat down, maintaining the local ‘block’ with a casual proficiency. He hummed, softly.
Drag Strip strip’s optics roved across the ceiling. The pleasant aromatherapy scent wafted through his olfactory sensors and he was acutely aware of the presence of the bike connected to his wrist. He yawned.
“Hmmmmnn ! I feel all kinda - drowsy! he said to First Aid. “It’s that pong. And - him! He’s making me all sorta - relaxed.”
“Good!” First Aid gave a half smile. That’s the intention. Groove is very good at helping mechs relax. That’s why he is my nurse.”
Drag Strip was quiet for a moment. Then he snickered. “Yeah!” he said. “He’s gotta be better than some of that other lot of yours. That copter’d be shit at this!”
“We all have our strengths and weaknesses, Drag strip,” said First Aid. “Blades is very good at some things which Groove is not.”
Drag Strip burst into dirty laughter. “Oh really? What?” he cackled. “Hey – I really wanted to ask ….” He controlled himself a little, “do you lot – you know – get it on with each other. Gestalt style” His optics glittered red.
“Drag Strip, I’m sure that however different the Stunticons may be, you’re as bound by Gestalt confidentiality as I am,” First Aid said crisply. “Much as you may be fascinated by such details, I cannot disclose them”
“Aw come on doc! The Stunts frag each other. I don’t mind telling you that!”
But First Aid didn’t reply, hauling out a large section of conduit and dumping it in the dish. Groove’s soft humming sounded from beside the berth.
“What about other Autobozos?” said the Stunticon. “I bet there’s a pile of them wanna get their connectors into you!”
Groove grinned to himself and First Aid gave a slight smile. “Maybe!” he said crisply.
“And would ya?” Drag strip sounded encouraged.
“My professional responsibilities prevent me from forming associations with patients,” said First Aid, reaching out for a length of circuit wire and measuring it up. “It would be quite out of the question.”
“Yeah?” said Drag Strip. “Awwww ! What a pain in the aft! Bet you wanna, sometimes.”
“That is neither here nor there.”
First Aid worked on, retrieving from the trolley a small solder gun and starting to splice wires. The smell of singed circuitry blended with the more pleasant aroma. Only little crackles, the faint hum of their combined engines and the other humming sounded in the med room. “Does that - professional scrap - extend to – Decepticon patients?” ventured Drag strip, determined that this conversation should not be at an end.
First Aid held up two flaps of ligament, trying to decide whether to repair them before or after he’d finished the circuits. “It applies to any patient,” he said.
Drag Strip snorted, “Pity,” he said, the wicked grin returning. “Cos a lot of Cons think you’re the hottest bot on the planet!”
Groove shifted slightly. The humming ceased. “Is that so?” First Aid tried to appear as nonchalant as before, but in fact, he flushed slightly. The Stunticon had a view of First Aid's face from where he lay, and it didn't escape his attention.
“Yeah! Lot of ‘em gonna be real jealous when they find out about this! Lot of ‘em’d pay to get fixed up by you!” He was quiet, his optics on First Aid’s face. “You, mind. Not that other miserable git what works with you.”
“I work with him, Drag Strip. And he’s a very reputable surgeon. Please don’t speak of him in that way!”
“Whatever!” said the Stunticon, disappointed that the sudden face plate change had not been repeated.
There were a few more moments silence and only the sound of First Aid’s scissors snipping and a soft metal rustling. “If it was him, I wouldna been like this!” said Drag strip. “It woulda been more like – he’da got his face smashed in!”
First Aid gave the ghost of a smile. “That wouldn’t have been very helpful,” he said. “How would you have gotten your leg fixed then?”
“Drag Strip stared at the ceiling, considering. “I dunno, do I?” he said. “I’da found some way.”
…………………
In truth, First Aid had to make an effort not to show his pleasure at the revelation. He was seen as the ‘main medic!’ It sent small thrills through his circuits. Better still, he was - apparently – something of a ‘pin up’ in the Decepticon ranks!
The medic could not help but feel flattered, if a little - surprised - at himself at discovering how much he appreciated the fact. And it was then, just then, that First Aid found himself consumed by thoughts of one Decepticon in particular - a Combaticon, to be precise – and he suddenly had the greatest urge to ask Drag Strip: “Who – exactly – has this attraction?"
Hastily, he reached for the lengths of replacement conduit and a laser scalpel, and concentrated on cutting and splicing them, doing his best to suppress the tingles which suddenly rolled over his sensor net as surprise turned to shock.
Drag Strip rolled his head to one side. He yawned again. “That blue and white racer. Can you tell him I reckon he’s a bit of all right?”
“I’ll pass the message on,” said First Aid, thinking how Mirage would be oh - so - rapt - NOT! at this information. Yet he was even more alarmed; because he was - he realized - disappointed that Dragstrip had stopped talking about Decepticons lusting after him.
“He’s not as ‘all right” as you though, doc!” Drag Strip drawled. “You got some real hard core fans among our lot. I heard ‘em talking, see! T Changers, Seekers …. Copters ....”
First Aid’s circuitry gave a jolt. The tip of the lazer scalpel flared and it slipped, accidentally severing a piece of circuitry he hadn’t intended severing – although luckily it was not important. “Really?” he said, hastily steadying his hand. “That’s uh - interesting!”
Oh PRIMUS! First Aid wanted to slap himself. But it was too late. Drag Strip propped himself up, a grin splitting his face from audial to audial.
“Aha!” he said. “So you got a thing for that copter too, huh? Heheh – well whaddya know?” he lay back down, chortling. “Actually, with that one, you got a bit of competition!” he grinned. “ But don’t worry doc. I can put the word in. An’ I won’t say nothing!”
Groove – so quiet First Aid had almost forgotten he was there - gave an audible smirk.
Appalled, First Aid shot him a ‘look.’ The Stunticon was delighted.
“Tell ya what – I’ll smack him around a bit when he’s offline, then he can get brought in here to patch up!”
Composing himself, First Aid soldered the last conduit into place and started on the ligaments.
“I assure you my attitude would be no different no matter who the Combatic … the patient was!” He said tartly, cringing inside again.
Drag Strip was still grinning. “Reckon you’d make a neat pair, you and Vortex,” he chuckled. “Cute!”
First Aid felt himself go hot all over. He was extremely glad, at that moment, that it was Groove who was plugged into the racer and not him. “Oh really?” he said, wanting to bite off his glossa.
“Yeah! He likes small, smart types. Like that jeep. But the jeep’s an aft. They fight all the time.”
Something else, an insatiable curiosity, swept through First Aid. He fought a sudden urge to ask about this, to get all the morbid details of the Decepticon 'copter's tempestuous relationship with Swindle. As he had heard rumored it was. He crushed the thought instantly. “I don’t think your superiors would be pleased at you divulging such details, Drag Strip!” he snapped.
Groove started to hum again, and Drag Strip let out a sigh, shuttering his optics, sleepy once more and now wanting this to be over. “Eh well, you got a point!’ he sighed.
……………………
“There!” said First Aid applying the last panel and wiping away the remaining smudges of energon with a cleanser soaked cloth. “Groove, if you could open the pathways to the sensor new, and Drag strip if you could just give groove a little ‘twinge’, just so I know your neural network is fully functional!”
Throwing the rag down on the trolley, he wheeled it away, glad that the racer had drifted off for the rest of the operation and he had been entirely able to banish certain ’thoughts’ from his processor.
“Hey!” There was a crash of metal as Groove jerked in the chair behind him. “Hey! I thought you were still half asleep, mech! Doc said a ‘little twinge’”
“I’m good – even when I’m offline!” Drag Strip cackled. “You like that?” Groove chuckled, saying nothing. Over by the trolley, First Aid darkened.
“Reckon you’d be almost as good a ‘face as him!”
“Yeah, mech! Well I …”
“Groove!” First Aid turned sharply. “Would you mind disconnecting!” he noted with annoyance that the other Protectobot wore a silly smile.
“Sure” said Groove. “Hey - sorry to do this to you!” He pulled out the connection with a ‘click.’
“Awwww - shame!” said Drag Strip. “It’ll have to wait I guess.”
Groove opened his mouth to say something, but First Aid cut in, sternly. “Drag Strip - rest!” he said. He frowned at Groove, “A word outside, if you please!”
The response was very predictable. “Sure thing! No worries!” Groove raised an optic ridge at the racer, then coasted off toward the door with First Aid following briskly. It closed behind them, leaving the Stunticon alone in the room, still chuckling.
To be continued ….
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-01-27 04:08 pm (UTC)Though I can't help feeling jealous on Ratchet's behalf.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-27 04:13 pm (UTC)Thanks for reading - I love your icon! Soo cute XD
no subject
Date: 2011-01-27 05:45 pm (UTC)Oh Groove ;) And First Aid is so damned sweet, and it's so amusing to see him flustered.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-27 11:06 pm (UTC)Groove cracks me up. Yes - First Aid not quite as cool and collected at all times as he'd like to be. Would be ammunition for Ratchet I think - he would have dealt with this situation somewhat differently :D
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Date: 2011-01-27 11:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-27 09:52 pm (UTC)And it's so cute and funny, too! Awww, Drag Strip! First Aid! Groove! They have such amazing chemistry between them, you had me giggling all the way through this story.
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Date: 2011-01-28 09:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-27 09:53 pm (UTC)Everyone here is immensely entertaining!
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Date: 2011-01-27 11:21 pm (UTC)Yes - good fuel for Ratchet's arguments that the cons would 'run rings around' First Aid LOL. Other medic would not be amused - although he may have gotten a grim satisfaction :P
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Date: 2011-01-27 11:06 pm (UTC)A pin-up among the 'Cons *snickers*
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Date: 2011-01-27 11:16 pm (UTC)I giggled much whilst writing - First Aid's 'flatteredness' is indeed funny !
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Date: 2011-01-31 03:36 am (UTC)