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The largest sparkling fighting ring in Tarn had finally been busted. Coverage of the bust dominated the news cycle for cycles, images of wounded sparklings and handcuffed mechs being marched into transports plastered across every screen in the city.
The majority of the sparklings needed immediate trauma care and were shuttled off to Tarn Central Medical Facility. For hours, first responders swarmed the intensive care unit, ambulances flying onto the scene, dropping off sparklings just steps from the Allspark, enforcer squads whooping sirens and taking incident reports. Press drones were constantly underfoot for a while, hovering around the helms of nurses, vying for the best shots before a squad of enforcers ran them off with threats of arrest.
It took about a week before the sparklings were stable enough to be shipped off to long term care and recovery in various locations around Cybertron. Two sparklings, a split-spark twin pair with the designations Sunstreaker and Sideswipe according to the fight ring records, ended up in the Iaconian Long Term Pediatric Care Unit under the care of Ratchet of Vaporex, chief doctor of pediatrics. First Aid, Ratchet's main assistant in this case, had about lost his mind upon meeting them for the first time, citing ‘cuteness aggression’ for his frankly ridiculous reaction.
“Aid, it’s embarrassing, I’m embarrassed watching you,” Ratchet grumbled, lifting a cube off of its mixplate and setting out two smaller cubes onto weighing scales.
“But Ratchet, look at them!” First Aid was busy hovering over the sparklings bassinet, a gentle digit tickling across their brightly colored bellies. “Look how wiggly they both are!”
As if on cue, a loud, whiney beep sounded from the bassinet as Sunstreaker, the yellow bitlet with a thick helm that framed his face, decided tickle-time was over feeding time had come. Sideswipe, never to be outdone by his brother, opened his red mouth to beep and rev and generally drive Ratchet crazy. Sunstreaker began to kick his little nubbing legs and surged to latch onto First Aids’ tickling digit, rows upon rows of razor sharp denta prying armor off of protoform.
Aid yanked his finger away from the bassinet with a panicked yelp, shoving his digit into his mouth with a pitiful whimper. “Primus, their cute little faces make you forget they’re actually pit-spawned energon demons.” His digit was covered in small puncture wounds, each sluggishly bleeding bright pink.
At the removal of his food source, Sunstreaked went from annoyed to incandescent with rage. The tiny little beeps escalated to enraged screaming, prompting Sideswipe to join in. The little room was soon filled with the deafening shrieks of pissed off sparklings on the verge of starvation.
While Ratchet could have done without the dramatics, both sparklings did need as much food as possible.
Ratchet finished measuring out equal portions of sparkling-grade energon, and scooped cubes both up into one hand, walking over to the bassinet. “I told you to keep your damn digits away from their mouths.” He handed over a cube to First Aid and grasped Sunstreaker around the middle with a huge servo. “These sparklings are tougher than most full grown pit fighters.” Ratchet swung a screeching yellow bitlet into the cradle of his arm, where Sunstreaker obediently went silent and opened his little mouth. Ratchet set the lip of the cube against Sunstreakers intake and began to gently pour the energon down his throat. The little hellion began to contentedly purr like an overheating datapad.
First Aid had scooped Sideswipe up into a similar elbow cradle and was feeding him with a matching purr. As both sparklings guzzled to an empty cube, the purring calmed and quieted until the room was silent and both bitlets kicking legs had stilled with sleep. Once the dregs of each cube had been tipped into slack mouths, Ratchet and First Aid both dumped the cubes into a waiting sink and went to set the sparklings onto exam tables for a post-meal check up.
Trying to separate the sparklings when they were alert was a fool's errand. Every day of their previous lives, the twins had been kept apart to encourage them to fight and kill other sparklings for food. Rewarding their wins with time together and punishing them for any signs of weakness with extended isolation made the bitlets extremely frightened of any separation. If kept apart for more than seconds, both sparklings would start thrashing and fighting any bot within range. Both Ratchet and First Aid had the bite marks to prove it.
Sunstreaker had gone limp and warm in Ratchet's grip. Maneuvering him onto the weight scale, Ratchet pulled a datapad out of his subspace and opened Sunny’s medical records. The scale dinged with a final weight.
“Finally gaining some weight, thank Primus,” Ratchet grumbled as he jotted down the results, before gently rolling Sunny onto his back to palpate his belly. Gently prodding at his round torso, the previously stiff protoform had begun to relax and grow soft. Constant fight-or-flight in the fighting ring had caused the protometal to stiffen as a defense mechanism. Their new life of ample food and rest was turning the twins back into the squishy round babies they were supposed to be. Ratchet transformed a digit into a dull needle and poked Sunstreaker just above one nubby leg. Not hard enough to pierce metal, just enough to cause a reaction. Sunny kicked that leg and whined in his sleep.
“Reflexes still look good.”
Transforming his digit back, Ratchet gently pinched Sunstreakers’ helm between his forefinger and thumb, hinging his jaw open to reveal rows of denta. Using his other servo, he gently massaged his pinky digit around Sunstreaker’s mouth to check for ulcers or stress sores. Nothing was found. A good sign, a sign that Sunny wasn’t regurgitating the rich energon by accident.
“Hey Ratchet? I got something you might wanna check out.” First Aid called from the opposite exam table.
Ratchet pulled his pinky out of Sunstreakers’ mouth and went to the sink to wash his servos, dumping Sunny back into his bassinet and allowing him to curl up and settle into deeper sleep. “What is it, Aid?”
First Aid had pulled back the fat rolls of protoform that surrounded Sideswipes helm and hid his neck, revealing bright pink wounds.
“What the…”
“I checked his chart, these wounds appeared in the two days since his last checkup.” First Aids’ voice had gone thin with concern, the softsparked ambulance brow furrowed behind his visor.
Ratched frowned, servo coming up to rub at his chevron. He could feel the helmache coming.
“Maybe contact dermatitis? Or his immune system over reacting to the new environment?” First Aid had bent down over the table, gently maneuvering Sideswipe to better reveal the wounds. “They go all the way around his neck, like a perfect ring…”
That was odd. Contact dermatitis would have made ugly patches all over Sideswipes’ body, not just his neck.
First Aid had moved on to examining the rest of the sparkling. “Ratchet, there's more on his legs and belly.”
Ratchet leaned over the exam table where First Aid was pulling away the protoform rolls around Sideswipes legs to reveal the joints, where more pink wounds were hiding. Perfect pink rings nestled into rolls of fat protoform, surrounding each leg.
“Hand him over, I need to examine and take swabs.” Ratchet bullied First Aid out of the way and took Sideswipe into his servos as delicately as he could. “Go get swabbing kits and ointment.” Gently pulling back the protoform, Ratchet checked for rust, infection, or any contamination from the arena. First Aid rifled through cabinets before returning with swab kits.
“Take a separate swab from each area. We need to make sure the causes are all the same.” Ratchet palpated the incriminating areas, drawing a quiet beep from Sideswipe. Shit, the sparkling was waking up.
First Aid, ever the softspark, made a simply ridiculous noise of sympathy as he snapped open the first swab kit and ran the tip of the swab around the ring of Sideswipes neck. The sparkling beeped again and little legs began to twitch.
“It’s ok sweetspark, it's all gonna be ok, please don’t wake up, please don’t wake up, please don’t wake up…” Aid was murmuring as he ripped open the second swab and ran it around the ring of Sideswipes leg. The murmuring wasn’t working and the bitlets face had begun to scrunch up in displeasure.
The two ambulances worked in tandem, Ratchet pulling back the protoform so First Aid could reach in with the swap to take samples. Each pass woke Sideswipe up further, his helm horns pulling back further as he began to wiggle against his assault. With only one more area to swab, First Aid committed an unforgivable sin: he accidentally bumped Sideswipes face with the metal butt of the swab. With a battle cry that could strike fear into the spark of Overlord, Sideswipe shot awake and screamed.
“Scrap, scrap, scrap, scrap, frag, motherfragger, Primus-damnit,” First Aid fumbled the swab and jammed it into Sideswipes back leg, causing the bitlet to scream even louder. Fat tears of coolant began to pour down his scrunched face. With a fearsome snarl, Sideswipe twisted in Ratchet’s grip and latched onto First Aid's servo, still screeching. Razor sharp denta lodged themselves into the transformation seams of Aid’s servo as Sideswipe began to gnaw.
First Aid yelped and instinctively shook his servo frantically, flinging the swab up into the air. Ratched dropped Sideswipe’s aft, allowing the sparkling to unfurl the claws hidden in his stub legs and fully latch onto First Aid’s still shaking servo. With a few million years of surgeon instincts, Ratchet plucked the swab out of the air, deposited it back in its bag, scooped up the rest of the used swabs, and dumped them into the lab sample container in one smooth move.
Whipping back around to a frantic First Aid, Ratchet pinched Sideswipes helm on the corners of his jaw and manually unlatched his denta from Aid’s servo. Gathering up the excess protoform on the back of his fat neck and pulling, Sideswipe went limp and fell off of First Aid, leaving dozens of little weeping wounds all over his servo and wrist. Sideswipe continued to sob as he dangled from Ratchet's grip.
Both medics took a beat to stare at each other and process what just happened. First Aid flashed his visor and lifted his servo to stare at it. Sideswipe wriggled and cried. In the bassinet, Sunstreaker quietly beeped and snuffled, sleeping through the chaos.
“I’m gonna go get a nursing bot to wrap this,” First Aid said, turning towards the door. “I’ll be back to finish my notes.”
Ratchet nodded and placed a hand under Sideswipes aft, lifting him to rest against his chassis. Flipped onto his back and still limp from his scruffing, Sideswipes legs fell to the sides askew, exposing a soft, squishy belly, heaving from his loud sobs. Ratchet piled Sideswipe into his palm and lifted his other servo to gently tickle his tummy.
“You gonna stop crying, you little scraplet? You gonna be a big bot and shut up for Ratchet?” he sardonically cooed, wiggling his digit across smooth protoform. Sideswipe hiccuped and whined, legs beginning to wiggle.
“Yeah, you like that, you little hellion?” Ratched brought another digit up to ghost over Sideswipes belly, gently walking them up and down his tiny frame. With a loud screech, Sideswipe began to beep and giggle as his whole frame writhed, trying to escape Ratchet’s digits.
Walking over to the sink, Ratchet drew his hand away and rifled through the drawers, searching for something to keep Sideswipe entertained. His digits hit smooth metal wrapped in mesh. Perfect.
Pulling out a sparkling sucker, a stick of energon coated in iron designed for a teething sparkling to chew and destroy, Ratchet juggled Sideswipe between his hands as he unwrapped the sucker.
“What’s Ratchet got for you, grub?” He waved the sucker over Sideswipe’s face, watching as oral lubricant began to drip from his mouth once he picked up the scent of fresh energon.
With a quiet chuckle, Ratchet lowered the sucker into grabbing range and watched as Sideswipe sunk his claws into the stick and jammed the end into his mouth, rows and rows of teeth gnawing on iron.
Ratchet then reached for a soft polishing cloth and cleaned off the coolant tracks from Sideswipes face to a chorus of hungry whines. Walking back to the bassinet, he lowered Sideswipe next to his sleeping brother, who woke up just enough to call for Sideswipe over their sparkbond. Sideswipe rolled over to snuggle and bask in his twin-sparks presence, chewing on the sucker all the while.
“Dr. Ratchet, please report to psychology,” rang from the intercom unit embedded into the ceiling.
Ratchet sighed, heaving himself up from where he was leaning over the bassinet, backstrut creaking. The sparklings would be fine without him, the nursebots would check in every 30 minutes. He shook his helm and grabbed the sample container from its spot on the counter, tucking it into his subspace. Might as well drop that off on his way down.
_________________________________________
His meeting in psychology took far longer than it needed to. The bureaucratic hoops this hospital had to jump through were far better suited to a turbohound agility show than a verified medical facility. Just as he had escaped psychology, he was called down to the E.R. Then sparkology. Then Operating Theater 3. Then a brief appearance with a pediatric cybercrosis case. Then a short stint in his office to collect data pads and a cube, before being called into emergency surgery for a sparkling who had attempted to eat the door handle of a transport and gotten it lodged in their mouth.
It was only when a nursebot informed him the twins lab results came back that Ratchet managed to force his way back into the long-term care wing and check in on the sparklings, glaring at an intern who tried to stop him for advice until the bot had backed away silently, visor cast down in embarrassment and fear.
First Aid had gotten there first and was flicking through the results datapad with a dim visor, his equivalent of a frown. Upon Ratchet's less-than-quiet barging into the room, he glanced up.
“Negative for rust infections, cosmic rust, protoform decay, or any other skin infections. The lab thinks it’s contact dermatitis from something in their environment.” First Aid glanced back down, flicking through the data pad again.
Of course the labwork was completely useless. Ratchet was convinced a herd of dieselsheep were running the whole damn department. Primus knows they might be smarter than the actual lab techs they had now.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Ratchet grumbled, stalking over to pull the data pad out of Aid’s servos.
“Sideswipe purrs when you scratch his aft.”
Ratchet stared at First Aid over the rim of the datapad.
“You said to tell you something you don’t know!” First Aid’s visor had gone bright in embarrassment.
“It was rhetorical, Aid.”
“Oh.”
Ratchet rolled his optics behind the data pad. First Aid was a brilliant physician, well on his way to becoming a brilliant chief of staff, but social cues were not his thing.
“Contact dermatitis, contact dermatitis, contact dermatitis…” Ratchet pinched his chin and began to pace around the room. “Contact with what?” he asked. “The rash is only presenting in places of high friction, but the sparklings are given regular baths.” Ratchet glanced up at Aid. “You dry in between the protoform folds, correct?”
First Aid nodded.
“Damn, that's not it then. Cleanser isn't even strong enough to dissolve protoform, anyway. All vitals are normal, there's nothing in his system, and if his immune response was attacking itself the rash would present all over his body, which means this isn't systemic.” Ratchet spun around and began to slowly pace over to the bassinet. “There has to be something getting working its way in between his protoform folds,” Ratchet tipped his helm back as he walked, staring at the ceiling, “But Sideswipe isn’t coming into contact with any-,” Ratchet’s hips bumped the bassinet, prompting him to drop his helm down to the yellow and red sparklings inside.
The yellow sparkling that was currently aggressively grooming his red twin. Grooming his twin by sticking his glossa into the folds around his neck, spreading oral lubricant into the crevice.
“Aid, what do you know about the acidity of sparkling oral lubricant?" Ratchet spun on his heel to face him.
“Sparkling oral lubricant is slightly acidic to aid in the dissolving of metals and crystal energon upon consumption. Their denta are coated in a thin layer of titanium to prevent them from eroding within the sparklings mouth. But oral lubricant isn’t strong enough to wear down a sparkling protoform?” First Aid had squinted his visor in confusion.
“Not normally, no. But if caught in the folds of protoform and prevented from evaporating, the lubricant could hypothetically wear down the skin and cause rashes.” Ratchet gestured down at the bassinet, “Which is what I believe we are seeing here.”
First Aid stood and crossed over to the sparklings, peering down at them. “You know, I was reading a case study recently on pediatric twin sparks. Apparently, pairs will increase grooming behaviors when one sparkling enters the beginning stages of metamorphosis before the other as a way to strengthen their spark bond before it goes dark during pupation.” First Aid reached into his subspace and pulled out a datapad, flicking it on. “Grooming behaviors can also serve as a coping mechanism during times of high stress, a physical reinforcement of companionship.”
Sunstreaker had moved on from Sideswipe’s neck to his front legs, gently swiping his glossa along the red protoform.
“Two sparklings, one slightly older than the other, living in a high stress situation that resulted in frequent separation. As the older grew and began to enter early pupation, his spark bond would have begun to fade, prompting the younger to groom as a bonding activity. Combine this with the stress of separation and a,” First Aid flicked over to the twins medical file, “quote, ‘tendency to obsessively groom upon being reunited’ end quote, we have a perfect case for lubricant rash.”
“A nearly faultless theory, but for one issue; Sideswipe hasn’t shown any signs of early pupa…” Ratchet stared down at the bassinet. Sunstreaker had abandoned Sideswipes legs, moving onto licking over his face.
A bright blue optic peaked out onto a world it had never seen before, having been pulled open by an exploring glossa. With a confused beep, a second optic slowly pried open, darting around at an unexplored world.
Early Pupation Stage One: Developing Vision.
Sideswipe had scant weeks before he would metamorphosize into a full spark.
_________________________________________
Eventually, Sideswipe got a medicated ointment slathered in his fat rolls and was wrapped up in a thick layer of bandages to allow the wounds to heal unencumbered by curious sparkling glossas. Sideswipe was simply too small for any bandages to be specifically wrapped around his wounds and Sunstreaker was obviously prone to over-grooming, so the hilarious solution was to bundle Sideswipe up in a giant roll of mesh-gauze and tape like a sparkling-burrito. The wrap was so thick and round only Sideswipes head stuck out of the end, elevated several inches off the ground. A nice dose of sedative-laced energon had knocked the little bitlet right out, making him pliant and agreeable, a condition First Aid was taking full advantage of. At the moment, Sideswipe was being rolled around the counter by First Aid’s massaging hands like a tube of cookie dough. Sideswipe was burbling sleepily but happily at the motions.
The extraction to remove Sideswipe from Sunstreaker’s hold had been rather stressful. The yellow grub had decided he had been separated from Sideswipe’s side one too many times today and had gently sunk his hooks to prick Sideswipe’s protoform, effectively trapping him there. The two medics had to wait until both sparklings had fallen completely asleep to delicately remove the hooks and retrieve Sideswipe from his brother's grip. Sideswipe woke up momentarily, but was quickly bribed into contentment by the promise of a meal. A drug-laced meal, but that was unnecessary semantics in Ratchet’s opinion.
At that moment, Ratchet was jotting down notes into Sideswipe’s chart, ignoring the undignified coos of First Aid as he pressed his mask into Sideswipe’s bandage burrito and baby-talked him.
“Are you the cutest bitlet in the whole wide world? I think you are! I think you are!” First Aid had scooped the red devil up into his arms and was walking him back to the bassinet for mandated nap time.
Ratchet rolled his eyes and tucked a quite small smile into his chest. First Aid released a quiet sigh as he set Sideswipe down.
“Ratchet, what are we gonna do when Sides pupates?” First Aid was leaned over the bassinet, gently petting Sunstreaker’s belly with a probing digit.
Ratchet sighed, set down the data-pad, and hauled himself up from his seat, joints creaking.
“I would avoid agonizing over the inevitable,” Ratchet joined First Aid and leaned over the bassinet, “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”
“But Ratchet,” First Aid agonized, “He already handles being separated from his twin so badly, how’s he going to take it when the spark-bond goes completely dark? He’ll feel so alone…” His visor had gone dim in melancholy.
Ratchet sighed. Again. “Aid, there’s a chance he won’t even realize anything is wrong. Or perhaps he’ll understand what’s happening to his brother and be completely fine. I’d rather not have you troubling yourself over something we can’t do anything about. Nature will take its course with these two and we’ll rise to any call they might voice. Now in the meantime, you need to put in an order with the hospital frame-builders so our resident crimson demon can have a place to go once he sparks.”
First Aid straightened from the bassinet and resolved himself. “I wish we could give them a more designer frame. The hospital-funded ones are always so boring…”
Ratchet stood with him and knocked him on the shoulder. “What did I just say about agonizing over the inevitable?” Ratchet shook his helm, “Besides, I’m fairly sure we have a fashion diva on our hands,” he nodded down at Sunstreaker, “I’m sure they’ll customize their future frames to fit their fashions.”
First Aid chuckled and grabbed the abandoned data pad, heading for the door. “I’m off in about 20 minutes, so chances are I won’t see you until next cycle. I’ll take these charts down to the frame-building department and finish off your charting. Go home!”
Ratchet looked at him in disbelief. “I’m on a 24-hour shift, Aid. Not all of us get to go sleep in a warm berth tonight.”
First Aid, ever immune to Ratchet’s pissy moods, simply rolled his optics, an impressive maneuver considering his visor, and strolled out the door.
Ratchet glanced back down at the sparkling duo sleeping soundly below him. As much as he had warned First Aid off of catastrophizing, he couldn't help but do it himself. Chances are Sunny would have to be sedated for the majority of Sideswipe’s metamorphosis until his mature spark came back online. Even then, Sunstreaker might not recognize the new frequency of his brother's mature spark and continue to freak out. In any case, strong anti-anxiety meds were in the future of a certain yellow bitlet.
There was no future where this would be an easy transition.
_________________________________________
“For the sake of Primus, would you knock that slag off?”
“Ratchet! That is not appropriate language for a sparkling to hear!”
“Oh for Pit’s sake, Aid, the little slag-maker doesn’t even know his own designation.”
Said slag-maker had long tired of his confinement in burrito-jail. Curious optics longed to see the rest of the world and a developing processor would stop at nothing to explore. The first thing Sideswipe had done after he woke up from his nap was roll his bandage-burrito like an oblong wheel and had launched himself off the counter where Ratchet was examining his new optics. It was only thanks to the lightning reflexes of the tending nurse-bot that Sideswipe had not crashed into the floor with a splat.
Downside was, Sideswipe decided that was the most fun he had ever had and was committed to rolling off the counter again. One must never underestimate the endeavoring spirit of a growing sparkling.
In response to Ratchet’s ire, Sideswipe attempted to roll away from his servos and made mad dash for the edge like he did during every exam outside the bassinet. With a growl, Ratchet snatched him up and planted him aft-down, standing the burritoed-bitlet upright like a little medicine bottle. Sideswipe giggled and hoisted himself backwards until he fell over and began to roll again. Ratchet was sorely tempted to let him fall. Instead, he pinned down the escapee with one servo and rifled through the cabinets with the other, yanking out a wash-basin. Slamming it down on the counter, Ratchet dumped a loudly giggling Sideswipe into the basin. Totally unaware of the wrath of an impatient medic, Sideswipe amused himself by rolling into the sides of the basin with increasing speed and force, laughing all the while.
A second giggle joined into the chorus Sideswipe was singing. Ratchet slowly turned to face the betraying face of First Aid who was supposed to be measuring Sunstreaker’s growth. Instead, he had decided to join forces against Ratchet and laugh at his misery. Upon noticing his intense glare, First Aid cleared his voice box and busied himself with Sunstreaker.
Ratchet scowled and turned to retrieve a lazer-scapel. It had been some weeks since Sideswipe’s wounds were first discovered and the bandages were to be removed soon. In the background, he could hear the thumps and giggles of Sideswipe slamming himself into the walls of the basin. Primus knows the kid might end up with processor damage if they don’t remove them soon.
The bandages were removed with some trial and error. Sideswipe did not like being held still for so long and tried to chew First Aid’s servos for daring to entrap him. But eventually, the bandages were peeled away to reveal healthy, healing protoform, a light ring of discoloration the only evidence the wounds ever existed at all.
Sideswipe, however, immediately committed himself to violence and chaos. He could see, he could move, and by Primus was he going to abuse his new skills. With a mighty roar, he chomped down on First Aid’s servo, chewing and chewing until First Aid released him with a yelp. Sideswipe twisted onto his nub-pedes and made a mad dash for the edge. With a yell of ‘Catch him!’ both First Aid and Ratchet made mad grabs for Sideswipe, but the sparkling was too fast. With a cry of freedom, he made good on his previous attempts and launched himself off of the counter, limbs flying askew and protoform rippling.
With a loud clang, he smacked into the ground and bounced away, squishy protoform doing its job and absorbing the impact. For a moment, he rolled back onto his pedes and blinked up at Ratchet and First Aid, unsure of his next move.
First Aid and Ratchet blinked back.
“Don’t make any sudden moves,” Ratchet staged-whispered.
He began to inch closer to a lightly dazed Sideswipe, moving as slowly and smoothly as millenia-old joints could. First Aid joined him, sliding around to the other side of the sparkling, so he was trapped.
Slowly, so, so, slowly, the medics made their way closer to a blinking Sideswipe. As they closed in, Ratchet bent to a crouch, reaching out both servos to snatch up the bitlet. Sideswipe cocked his helm at the incoming medic.
Just as Ratchet’s servos grazed the back of Sideswipes neck, the door snapped open.
“Ratchet, I have an order for a frame design I need you to sign off on,” spoke Ambulon from the doorway.
The spell snapped in half like a rust stick.
Sideswipe shrieked and kicked it into high gear, sprinting out the doorway.
Both medics roared and barreled over poor Ambulon though the doorframe, where a red aft was hightailing it down the hallway. With a loud crack, First Aid snapped into his alt-mode and zoomed up around the bitlet, drifting so he blocked off the hallway. Sideswipe gave a battlecry and began to climb, using his claws to dig into the metal of First Aid’s altmode. Seizing the opportinity, First Aid transformed back, snatching Sideswipe up in a triumphant servo.
The medics made optic-contact, First Aid laid out on the floor of the hallway, Ambulon squished under Ratchet where the older ambulance had fallen on top of him.
Sideswipe giggled. First Aid couldn’t help but join in, completely losing any composure on the floor.
“Oh my Primus, did you see that? A sparkling managed to out-maneuver three damn medics! By himself! And he’s not even sorry! Oh my god, HA!” First Aid dissolved into incoherent babbling while Sideswipe continued to sway and giggle in his outstretched grip.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s real funny, Aid.” Ratchet muttered as he attempted to untangle himself from Ambulon. Ambulon had suffered quite a bad fall, his chassis dented and crumpled from the impact of Ratchet.
Finally freeing himself, Ratchet attempted to stand fully, but made it halfway before his spinal strut loudly protested. Stuck hunched over like an invalid, Ratchet let out a loud sigh. “Ambulon, I suggest you join me in the E.R. to get fixed up.”
Ambulon gave a wheeze from the floor, one servo poking up to give a thumbs-up.
“First Aid, take the damn demon inside and set him down for a nap. And fix him with a cone to stop him licking. And his brother as well!” Ratchet placed a servo on his back and began to hobble down the hallway towards the elevators. Ambulon was still wheezing on the floor.
First Aid glanced up at the still-giggling Sideswipe. “You are gonna be quite the little trouble maker as a mech, aren’t you?”
Sideswipe chewed on his digits in response.
First Aid stood and peeled Ambulon off the floor, ushering him down the hallway. Placing Sideswipe back in the bassinet, he grabbed two cones out of the cabinets and tore off a section of tape to tie them on.
“Sorry bitties, I think this might suck for a while.”
First Aid grabbed Sunstreaker first, where the sparkling had managed to nap through the entire disaster, the little slagger. He woke up with a gentle start, but recognized the familiar grip of First Aid and quickly settled back down. However, at the feeling of the cone fitting around his helm, Sunstreaker kicked and wiggled. First Aid tied the cone just as Sunny beeped so loud and so long First Aid was sure someone else mistook it for the fire alarm. The sparkling kicked and scratched and cranked his neck to chew at the cone, but no matter how hard he tried, the cone wouldn’t budge. Leaving him to growl and bitch, First Aid scooped up Sideswipe and shoved the cone around his helm before he could join his twin in tantrum land. Unlike Sunstreaker, Sideswipe merely blinked in surprise before attempting to back out of the cone. To his shock, the cone followed him. He backed up more, and more, and more, until he was making little laps around the bassinet, whining confusedly as to why the cone was following him.
First Aid chuckled at the comical sight. The road ahead was long and hard. Sunstreaker would feel abandoned, Sideswipe still needed to heal, and eventually two grown mechs would be turned out of the hospital with no money, friends, or family.
But watching as the sparklings teamed up to remove Sunstreaker’s cone, First Aid couldn’t help but feel it would all be okay.