Author: V the Happy Lurker
Warnings: Fluff
Word count: 511
Summary: TF G1: Ratchet/Wheeljack: Married couple- finishing each other's sentences.
A/N: Hoist needs more love.
Hoist buzzed for Ratchet and waited patiently for the chief medic to open the office door.
"Yes? What do you need, Hoist?" he grumbled, moving carefully to avoid causing a landslide of data-pads that threatened to overtake every surface in the office that wasn't already taken over by the impressive home-made energon still.
"I hate to bother you with this, sir, but I'm afraid poor Jack's gone and gotten banged up again."
Ratchet groaned in annoyance, gesturing for Hoist to take him to the engineer. His expression went from annoyance to barely hidden worry when they reached the berth they'd put Wheeljack on. "Dammit Jack, did you-"
"Accidentally blow up my lab? Yup!" chirped the engineer, cheerful despite the fact that he had one arm missing and a large gaping hole in his chest. He continued merrily on while Ratchet went to work piecing him back together."See, Percy had cooked up this mathematical theory that could potential increase the concussive yield of our current plastic explosives and I-"
"Decided to see if it work so you cooked up a new batch and-"
"Found out that Percy only meant the equations to be used in an academic sense because-"
"He's a pacifist by nature, so Preceptor purposely left out a crucial part of the equation that-"
"Caused the whole thing to go BOOM!" Wheeljack finished, headfins flashing happily.
Ratchet could barely suppress a growl as he cleaned up the jagged edges. "Why do you keep on doing this to yourself? I know we're at war but-"
"But I shouldn't take risks, right? You're forgetting that science demands risk and-"
"And you have to push the envelope for the sake of progress," grumbled the medic while he started connecting up one of the many spare arms he kept on hand just for Wheeljack. "Which, I'd like to point out, won't do you any damn good if you're-"
"Dead? But that's why I got you, Ratchet." The engineer reached over with his good hand and patted his friend on the shoulder.
There was a faint cough of vents clearing.
"Sir," Hoist began, thankful that neither of them could see the warm smile on his face. "Do you need any assistance?"
"No, thank you Hoist," hissed Ratchet coldly. "I can handle this. Why don't you-"
"Go finish up the rest of the paperwork for Ratchet," chirped Wheeljack. "And could you ask Grapple-"
"To fix Jack's lab and help Preceptor lock up the files about this equation so nobody else gets blown up."
Wheeljack looked horrified. "But Ratchet! What about-"
"War effort nothing!" he barked, getting back to repairing the damages. "I'm getting tired of always having to-"
"Fix me. I know, I know," grumbled the engineer. "But you-"
Shaking his head, Hoist left them to their arguing and wondered for the thousandth time that week why the pair of them just didn't get it over with and bond as mates.