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Kissing booth; Open for everyone, we need your cash
Topic Started: 25 May 2016, 07:17 PM (111 Views)
Jumpercablebabe
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After the bar fight, Swerve's bar had been destroyed. There was little that Aid could do at the time, he wasn't even supposed to be in there to begin with, but alas. Time to clean up. Only, repairs weren't free. While Ten had done a lot to try and fix up the bar to the best of their abilities, it wasn't like they could just super glue all the glass mugs back together. Some things just needed replacing.

Which is when donations because a discussed topic. Stuck on bed rest, First Aid was the first to volunteer to donate to the cause. He had agreed to do something light and easy, nothing that would agitate his wound. It was his time to put himself to use, and he took the request very seriously.

Which is where the idea of a kissing booth came into play. How else better to raise money? It let First Aid get rid of that backed up affection, all attention starved from getting hurt and stuck in a berth to rest. It also was a sure fire way to earn even a little money with some harmless fun. Everyone could use a little affection, honestly.

So there he sat, at the humble booth. Tiny curtain and two chairs. One for him, one for guests. It would all be anonymous as to who paid for what, to those on line anyways. The curtain got pulled closed as a guest sat, their name and the amount paid written on a data pad (that Aid would use to later tally and give whoever spent the most a basket of energon goodies), they get a kiss and the curtain opened back up to indicate the next guest could come sit down. It gave Aid that privacy, not that he was up to no good, he just wasn't comfortable with his face on display for an entire room. Mechs one on one, that wasn't so scary, but a crowd? Now that was over whelming.

Ten hung up the prices. Two shanix for a nuzzle with his mask, five fir a cheek kiss (the option to give or get up to the guest), and for ten shanix you got a nice regular kiss.

Ten of course was First Aid's security. At the sight of any shady activity or anything that could be taken as rough or aggressive, ten reserved the right to boot then out, even if shooting them out the air lock was a more fit punishment.

Now it was just the waiting game. Hopefully swerve had spread word to the little booth and people would pitch in any extra money to help the bar get repaired. Aid was more or less happy to feel useful, something he hadn't felt since getting hurt.
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Every now and again, Ratchet would drag a digit down the screen of his datapad. The first few times of refreshing only to see no response was fine, but as the hours waiting for a response passed by, he couldn't help but sigh deeper each time he went through the motions again. First Aid was out and about, but still recovering from a serious injury. Medic-to-medic, Ratchet knew that First Aid was more than capable of taking care of others as well as himself, but he wanted First Aid to send in reports of whether or not his condition was worsening or improving. This was just in case things turned for the worst and the need for another pair of tuned hands came into play.

That, and Ratchet had grown an unspoken liking for the other medic.

Which, in turn, had made him especially more concerned for First Aid. Ratchet turned off the datapad and decided that he might as well check up on First Aid face-to-face. He swiped a few spare shanix on his way out of the medibay. He had been meaning to donate for a while, and he wanted to show support for whatever business First Aid was running down there at the ruins that was once Swerve's.

Ratchet placed himself in the long queue for what he assumed was for First Aid's booth. No wonder why First Aid wasn't reporting back. Business was going good for him. As he moved up the line, the menu finally came into view.

Ratchet had to double-take at the services First Aid was offering. After scanning the menu three more times, he laid out his palm and counted the shanix he brought with him. Nine total.

There was a hint of disappointment on his face that neither him or the others could see.

The sound of curtains being drawn back snapped his attention away from his palm. It was Ratchet's turn now. He moved towards the empty chair and gave ten a friendly nod while waving at First Aid. Once he took his seat, the curtain behind him was spread out. Ratchet set all nine shanix down on the table.

"A nuzzle, a cheek kiss from me to you - " he couldn't stop the curve of a small smile from spreading on his face " - and a quick report on how you've been doing."
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Jumpercablebabe
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Taking some unwanted, rather forced, time off due to Pharma sawing off his arm in a petty squabble about Ambulon had really grated down First Aid’s mental state. While it was easier to stay positive this time around than the first time he had lost Ambulon, as last time he had locked himself in his habsuite for what felt like weeks, it was clear that not all of his peppy attitude was genuine. It was just hard to smile, even behind a mask, knowing that he had loved ones here on the ship, but that also it hurt to have gotten to see Ambulon again but his condition rendered him unable to actually talk with him. It hurt, a lot, but he’d try to keep positive, if not for himself but for those on the ship.

Which is why he had positively jumped for the chance to hold hands, nuzzle, and smooch at any willing bot on the ship through the good means of repairing the bar for Swerve. What was the point of being the ship’s CMO if he couldn’t even perform his duties? He finally felt like he had somewhat of a use here, or so he told himself. Comforting the ship. That’s what he was doing.

The line had been long with many repeat customers, not that it really phased First Aid. Thankfully with Ten over shoulder to intimidate, everyone had been fairly tame. There had been a few instances where Ten would need to get involved, causing Aid to dip away from the booth to collect himself while the mech was dragged off to Ultra Magnus, who had been on line himself. Who’d have thought, honestly.

Moving back to continue to get Swerve his new bar, putting that need over his own rest, Aid sat back down ready to continue. Least, as ready as he could be. His mask was back on, almost afraid to take it off at this point. He was growing a little weary, but glowing with affection and adoration. Mechs down the line could feel the warmth and compassion radiate from his EM field.

Never in a thousand years did he ever expect Ratchet to sit down across him at a kissing booth. Him being off the ship until this return asides, there was a lot of other factors at play as well. Pharma was now in the medbay, mother henning over the CMO for one. Truly ironic since he was the one to saw him up. And here now Hatchet stands, or rather sits, counting out his shanix.

Was this some sort of fever dream?

First Aid shook his head, clasping his hands around Ratchet’s indicating for him to keep his money.

“Ratchet…”

It was a mixed feeling. While he wanted, and he did, feel happiness with seeing the medic again, First Aid was still.. He never had gotten that closure he needed from Ratchet after Ambulon’s death. It ate at him, multiple members of the ship knew this. Hatchet McHandThief just dipping out without so much as a real apology for turning Ambulon’s body into a canon. His intake tightened at the sight of Ratchet, but he couldn’t let it bleed into his field how panicked he felt at that moment.

“You don’t need to pay, Ratchet, but might we move to the medbay? I… I’d really like to talk without somewhere less… Crowded. I’m starting to feel claustrophobic with the crowd out there, regardless of this curtain separating us.” His good arm came up, rubbing at where the sling pinched at his neck to support the dud arm. “I can fill you in on anything you’d like to know as soon as we are behind closed doors”
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White fingers wrapped themselves around Ratchet's red ones. He closed it into a fist and slowly withdrew it while taking in First Aid's words, nodding when appropriate and attempting to hold his smile when he heard the slightest hint of nervousness in First Aid's voice. When the silence after First Aid's request signaled that it was Ratchet's turn to speak, the last nod was slower and his mouth relaxed into a flat line.

"Can do. There's only so much privacy a curtain can give, after all," he said, clearing his throat afterwards.

A rise in chatter beyond the curtain reminded Ratchet of the long line of people that were, probably impatiently at this point, waiting for their turn. He let the shanix pile onto the table again as he hastily rose from his seat before First Aid could protest.

"I insist. You don't have to give me anything, really. I've been meaning to donate so I might as well d-," he was interrupted by the snorts and growing laughter of the line. Ratchet was far too old at this point to deal with this kind of immaturity.

He took a second to let out a deep sigh. "See you in a bit," he muttered.

Without making eye contact at First Aid or at the line of bots who were now whispering among themselves as soon as Ratchet stepped out, he speed walked to the exit of Swerve's bar. Had he really been talking to First Aid for that long? He would have doubted it if it weren't for the crowd's poorly hidden gossip. He scoffed once he was out of hindsight of the crowd. Who were they to talk? Weren't they also in line for the exact same services? Hell, why should he even care about what they had to say?

The medibay finally started to come into view. Ratchet sighed, thankful that he could finally get some peace and quiet. He let his crossed his arms relax from their position and shook his helm as if to shake the unwanted thoughts clear from his mind. Once the medibay doors were sliding open in front of him, Ratchet had finally freed himself of all frustration from the recent events.

One step inside and Ratchet was immediately greeted with the familiar whirs and beeps of the medical devices scattered about the room. He picked up two chairs as he strolled over to a nearby wall and set the seats down to face each other. With that, he finally sank into a chair and immersed himself in the noises around him.

Just when Ratchet was about to slouch himself into an even more horrible posture that would make other medics question his job, his back jerked into a line when the memory of a nervous sounding First Aid from several minutes ago played over in his mind. He looked up at the unoccupied chair in front of him. Maybe First Aid would appreciate not having to look at Ratchet directly.

The sound of chair legs skidding across the floor disrupted the usual background noise of the room. Ratchet sat back down once both of the chairs were facing the wall and enough space was between the two. It was going to be a bit before the line for First Aid's kissing booth died down. After making sure there weren't any other errands that needed to be done, he relaxed into his seat. Now all that was left to do was wait.
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Jumpercablebabe
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First Aid watched with a hint of sadness the moment Ratchef freed his hands and began to leave. Oh what he would do to hold onto someone, anyone's, hands. All he could do was nod softly and cast his gaze down as Ratchet left, only for someone new to push their way into the seat and start unpocketing their shanix. It was a little hard to focus now, the troubled feeling bleeding through his optics but not his field.

Nobody noticed, or if they did they hadn't commented.

Third time online, Rodimus had paid for the entire booth, which had caused a bit of a fight among those waiting. 'I'm the captain and I can do as I please!' Was his argument for buying out the stand, reward a date with the cmo. It had sounded perfect at the time, but squabbling had ensued.

Once all was settled out, Aid had caught Rodimus long enough to escort him safely to the medbay. He was honestly starting to feel tired, not one to be so social. Usually he worked one to one on his patients, and there was always someone getting hurt, but it really took up all his energy to be so social. They'd both agreed to reschedule that won date, aid dipping into the medbay after a half hug, as his other arm prevented him from the full gesture.

Padding through the newly open doors of the medbay, that nose blind wave of cleaning solutions his his sensors, muffled by his mask. It was a powerful smell, one he was quite used to, one he could call home. Instead of going and finding a berth in the back to go nap on, however, he had made arrangements with Ratchet. It was finally time to present himself.

It was hard to look at Ratchet. Unable to place the exact feeling, aid chalked it up to multiple feelings in a mixing pot. Adoration combined with disappointment, comfort and care blended with a pinch of uncertantity. It was hard to swallow. Two people who were key to Ambulon's death were back, back home aid would even argue, but he couldn't truly feel like this was home without the other mech. His golden eyes were what made First Aid feel like home, ones he'd likely never see a third time.

He needed to get over this. Hopefully now with Pharma and Ratchet on the ship he'd be able to get hat security and closure to truly begin to heal. There were some things even he couldn't do on his own, and sadly Rodimus could only help him so much. Which, they both were doing their best but, things get tough when you spend about four million years in love with someone only to see their body sliced in half. It really made First Aid cherish those memories of 23 hour surgeries, where afterwards they'd curl up together and fall asleep leaning shoulder to shoulder.

Shaking free of his thoughts, unaware to how he had stood still staring at the floor, sadness seeping out from his field for quite a few minutes, Aid finally reached Ratchet and sat down besides him. Almost immediately did his good hand seek out Ratchet's, looking for both something to hold onto and to hold them close.

Forgive and forget, forgive and forget, forgive and forget.

Once he caught hold of the older medic's hand, Aid turned in his chair, bringing it to rest just above where his spark pulsed, faintly at that. Ratchet would be able to feel it though. It was First Aid's way of wordlessly trying to give Ratchet a clue that he still trusted him, missed him, wanted to be in close again despite all the emotional turmoil he was facing.

"Sorry it took me so long, a fight had broken out," his voice was as soft as ever, lisp peaking through on specific words but nothing too slurred. "Rodimus thought he was helping, but it just seemed to piss everyone off more. But we managed to help swerve raise the money he needed, so that's what's important."

He fell silent, optics casting down at the floor. It was quite a contrast to when Pharma had shown up on ship, after all. He still carried the weight of that, physically with his arm still in a sling.

"If I take off my mask, do I still get that kiss? Or have you gotten cold feet?"
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Ratchet contemplated turning his head and greeting First Aid once he heard the hum of the medibay doors opening, signaling the arrival of the other medic. Before a decision could be made, First Aid already started walking towards the seat next to him. With that, Ratchet stayed in position and waited as First Aid settled in.

The stillness that hung in the air between them was interrupted when Ratchet felt First Aid tugging his hand away from him. He turned in his seat, not looking at First Aid, but at his hand which was now placed on First Aid's chest. He felt the warmth of First Aid's spark through his palm, and let his hand linger there for as long as First Aid had held it. First Aid never let go, though, and for that Ratchet was grateful.

'Sorry' fell from First Aid's mouth, and Ratchet instinctively added the slightest bit of pressure to his touch. It was a bit saddening that 'sorry' was the first word to be spoken since First Aid had entered the medibay. He wanted to let First Aid know that it was fine, that there was absolutely no need to apologize. First Aid was here now and that's all that mattered. He pressed his palm against First Aid's chest just a bit more and hoped that the motion sent his silent forgiveness across. He held back a grimace. If only it were this easy to forgive Pharma. His optics shifted to the right as he clenched his free hand. Hell, if only it were this easy to forgive himself.

Thankfully, First Aid had steered the course of Ratchet's train of thought before it went to a place he wasn't quite ready to face yet. Well, it was more like a place he wasn't quite ready to face again. Now he was holding back a groan at the thought of whatever trouble Rodimus stirred up at First Aid's booth. First Aid was vague on the topic about the shenanigans, which made him even more intrigued on the subject. He bit back his curiosity and saved his questions for a different day. There were more important matters to attend to.

Looking up at the bot in front of him, Ratchet got reminded of his priorities. Not his priorities as a medic, but his priorities as a friend.

First Aid popped the question just as Ratchet was about to speak. The words that were waiting to come out retreated to the back of his intake. He focused his optics on the other medic as the question echoed in his mind. Of course, Ratchet would love to. He would never pass up the chance to share his affections, but something was stopping him from taking that chance.

It's not that he wasn't used to giving affection. It was expected of a medic to comfort their patients when they were panicking or when they were dying. Simple things like hand-holding and, if possible, hugging, always seemed to do the trick. If the patient didn't like physical contact, Ratchet would try his best to use words to soothe them. He wasn't the best when it came to speaking, however. The only time his words seemed to have any affect was when he was making a snappy remark, or a type of comment that made Swerve call him an 'old man yelling at a cloud'. Whatever that meant.

His head turned away from First Aid. These were one of those moments Ratchet wished he was better with words.

After taking a moment to gather himself, he turned his chair so that it was easier to face First Aid, both literally and metaphorically. Ratchet moved his hand away from First Aid's chest and used it to grasp the CMO's hand instead. Although the spot over First Aid's spark was noticeably warmer than the medic's hand, it was just as pleasant to Ratchet.

"Of course," he paused, rearranging the words in his head again. "Of course you'll still get that kiss, but that's not the only thing you came here for, is it?"
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Jumpercablebabe
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First Aid remained quiet all the while. Appreciating the pressure of the others hand, if it could even be considered Ratchet's hand, above his spark. A small puff of heat escaped through his chest vents, not realizing he had started to warm up so considerably. Then again, the entire time his arm had been slowly mending back together he'd felt his systems pushing twice as hard to keep up with the others, causing him to require more fuel and rest. Not that he actually followed up with that need. More often than not he was running on practically fumes, flat out refusing to lie back or drink the medical grade he was supplied with.

Medical grade was truly awful, he had come to the conclusion. Thick, bitter, and unappetizing. He wasn't a good patient, tho neither were any of the medics.

Once the contact had been lost, replaced with a new found contact to his hand, First Aid sighed with upmost softness. It had been a considerable long time since he and Ratchet shared a medbay, even more so since everyone had been together. Even if not everyone was here. They'd lost the drone during the fiasco with overlord. It really hurt for First Aid of all mech's to shoot the little bot. The new drone was nice, having lots of pep and longer fingers. Brainstorm had really out done himself on that. But it wasn't the same, not without Ambulon here.

It really was no secret how he had felt towards the mech, well, asides to the mech in question. He'd never a clue in the slightest how over the past four million years Aid watched and pinned over him. It was heartbreaking. Traumatic.

Shivering, feeling a sudden tightness in his intake, First Aid quickly gave quick shake to his helm. No more. No more thoughts of Ambulon. Not when Ratchet was finally back.

"No. I didn't come all the way here for you to kiss me, not that I'm opposed. I came here for you, you should know that, Ratchet," squeezing the medic's hand, First Aid scooted further to the edge of his seat. Oh how he wanted to just finally let pent up emotions free. But there was no point. No amount of yelling, crying, pointing fingers in blame would bring back his friend. And it really, really was arguably not Ratchet's fault what happened. He was steaming, internally, but he'd learn to let go. Always forgiving. He'd forgiven Pharma, he'd do the same for Ratchet.

"It really hurts. Everything. My arm, my spark. Even now, you sit before me and it's almost like we are miles apart. I've missed you, Ratchet. And I know you didn't leave while we were on good terms. My hostility and bitterness, it's considerably petty looking back. We have all experienced loss here, I don't know why I believed my loss to be of more value than anyone else's. For that, I'm sorry."

His thumb gently rubbed over Ratchet's knuckles, seeking comfort. Left raw, stripped from his feelings, it was hard not to cry in front of the other. He'd looked up to Ratchet for quite some time, even if Ratchet wasn't always the most supportive mech in the world, and it was truly a blessing to be able to work along side someone with such skill.

"Ratchet, I've missed you more than I can show, and I... I'm sorry I blamed you instead of taking responsibility for my own short comings."
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Ratchet wanted nothing more than to make First Aid feel better. It hurt Ratchet to hear how distant First Aid felt from him. It hurt even more when First Aid apologized again. There were so many things Ratchet also had to apologize for, and so many things he didn't have the strength to take responsibility of. He thought back to earlier, when he got distracted from his thoughts. It seems like he'll have to face them today after all. Not just for his sake, but for First Aid's sake, too.

With a deep breath, Ratchet scooted closer to First Aid. He wanted to fix the distance problem between them, starting with the physical side. Their knees bumped against each other clumsily, but not enough to hurt. It seemed that First Aid had already moved closer to Ratchet beforehand. Still holding First Aid's hand with utmost care, he leaned over and rested the top of his helm against First Aid's. His optics were closed throughout the whole motion, but he could feel -- no, he knew First Aid was holding back tears.

"Apology accepted." He traced his thumb along First Aid's palm, partnering to the knuckle rubbing. "There's no need to say sorry anymore. For any of this. I've forgiven you a long time ago."

Opening his optics, Ratchet was first met with the faintest reflection of himself, tinted a slight blue. Past that was First Aid. First Aid, whose optics were brimming with tears. Using a free hand, he stroked them away before they could fall, only to be replaced again. He kept at it regardless. It was time to close the distance emotionally, but he didn't know where to start, what to say first.

"You do know that it's alright to cry in front of me. right?" The hand that was once wiping tears away fell to First Aid's cheek. He let his fingers linger there as he opened his mouth to speak again. "You can hold it back all ya want, but it's bad for your optics. It'll get them all clogged up. Plus, it...it makes you feel gross if you hold it in like that," he finished with a mumble.

Optics close again as he turned his head away, breaking the connection of his forehelm with First Aid's.

"I'm sorry," he started, now looking directly at First Aid. "I'm sorry for leaving without making a single attempt to make things better between us. I'm sorry for all the trouble put on you because of my absence. And I'm sorry about..." Ratchet couldn't finish it. His dreaded hands were now trembling and grasping at First Aid's for stability.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save him."
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As Ratchet told Aid that it was okay to cry in front of him, the smaller medic gave a mixed motion. Half a nod, half a shake, honestly it reflected his conflicted state of being. He knew he could cry in front of ratchet, oh of course he knew, but he didn't want to. Never did he want to show sign of weakness before his mentor, feeling as if he had to always be a star prodigy without any weaknesses. Yet any time Ratchet would wipe away the few tears that would slip from beneath his visor, his helm tilted to the touch.

It wasn't until Ratchet's apology that First Aid finally stopped holding back. The shaking squeeze of his hands was met with his own, his chest rattling. His body language was completely in contrast from that of his em field, trying to wrap around the older medic with a wave of understanding and assurance.

"I know, I know you're sorry, it's, it's so not fair. Oh, Ratchet..."

He needed to hear that apology desperately, more than he'd ever like to admit. First Aid briefly let go of Ratchet's hands in favor of stepping up from his chair and hugging him tightly around the shoulders. It was a little awkward, standing but forwards bent. But things would be alright from here on out. So long as they had eachother.

"I can't promise I won't keep apologizing, I'm not sure I know how, but please don't... Don't leave me again so soon? I know you said I'm ready on my own, and I can handle the medbay as CMO, but I don't want to BE alone," the words were soft, muffled by Ratchet's shoulder.

"I'm so thankful to have you back, back here on the ship, I don't, I don't know how to really treat myself kindly. I'd always looked," he swallowed a bit thickly before continuing. "I had always looked towards you or Ambulon for kind treatment. Because I can't do it myself."

He was starting to come down from the water works, sobering up from his panic attack. Ratchet was here, in his arms, giving him comfort and closure. He couldn't ask for much more of him, and the only thing he'd ever want was impossible to obtain. He'd found family once again in the older mech, tilting his helm affectionately to rest against Ratchet's.

"Promise me you won't go running off again...?"
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The warm hum of First Aid's spark surrounded Ratchet's senses. It was sudden, but nowhere near unpleasant. He instinctively pressed his forehead against First Aid's chest, just barely above where his spark would be, and wrapped his arms around First Aid's sides, shaky hands now occupying themselves by rubbing steadily along his back. Ratchet never realized how tense he was until now, when he started to relax against First Aid. He sighed. Sometimes he didn't know what he needed until he got it.

Back then, Ratchet knew that leaving so suddenly would hurt the crew, especially the ones he felt closest to. He thought of every confrontational scenario he'd have to face when he returned, but he never figured out what he'd do in them. In every single one, he just stood there, face stern, holding back tears, and taking in every word spat at him from a face that would no longer smile at him the way it used to. He expected all of it to happen, even the most worst cases in which someone told him that they'd wish he never came back.

But he wasn't getting yelled at. No. He was being embraced instead.

Ratchet moved away from First Aid's chest to let his forehead meet his own. Although no longer crying, he reached a hand up again to brush away at the stray tears left on First Aid's face, giving him all the comfort he could possibly muster up. If it meant never having to see First Aid this distraught, he'd do this for as long as he needed him to. He didn't expect forgiveness from anyone, not even from First Aid, but he was getting it anyways. A small stream trickled down from the edge of his optics. There shouldn't be a reason to hold it back, not if it was in front of him.

"I'm not going to leave you. I promise you that." Growing streams of tears stained Ratchet's cheeks at this point. They were left ignored, the bot in front of him made them practically invisible to Ratchet. He tightened his hug and brought First Aid even closer to him. "You...you won't ever have to be alone again. Not when I'm here now."
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There had been a lot of anger and hostility within First Aid when Ratchet had left the Lost Light. More or less it was the timing that had Aid distraught, and the way in which Ratchet had handled it. Aid wasn't stupid, he was far more attentive than he'd lead on, and watching Ratchet scramble to tie up loose ends such as Magnus and Ten was a dead give away. Which was why it hurt so badly when he hadn't said a word to Aid. No assurances about watching Trailbreaker's brain module smash to his panic bubble. No apologies for what happened on Luna-1.

It was hard to move on, but he didn't really have the time to move on either. First Aid soon found himself passing off the phone to Lottie as he was chosen to go to cybertron with his brothers. To care over mirage. At least mirage was one friend he had been able to save. In all honesty, had it been a defeat mission, Aid was starting to contemplate some dark thoughts within his processor. Not returning to the ship, begging his gestalt to come with him somewhere else. Somewhere he could hide from the pain of falling comrades. Mirage's success was so hyper focused, projecting his insecurities on the success of the mission.

None of that mattered now. Not as Ratchet embraced him, hands beneath the white shielded arches of his back slits, relaxing at the softer red metal that rested beneath. There was a noticeable difference in density and strength there, in that he was lacking it. Otherwise he was structured fairly defensively, boxy, nothing fancy. Even less fancy as he hiccuped and sobbed against Ratchet.

Eventually as Ratchet wiped his steady flow of optic fluid from his cheek plates, aid had begun to reciprocate for the other medic. His touch was far softer, his delicate hand heated up to try and leave almost a lingering, ghostly warmth over his cheek plates. Tiredly, aid tried to smile the best he could, lips lopsided and wobbling. He still had one arm in a sling to worry for, a sore one at that, and at that moment he felt his optics dim a shade softer.

"Any cha-chance I could get a-another hug? It's, it's easier to c-calm down that way." Soft sniffles and weakening tear streams, Aid looked exhausted from his little cry out. He could use some time off his pedes and with a cube of energon, but it was hardly the first thing on his mind. No even in this exhausted state all he wanted to do was click closer to the other medic, try to repair what had been damaged between them.
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