[TFP] Event Horizon Origins - Tango
May. 6th, 2012 10:10 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22a/n: Thanks to azardarkstar for the beta-work! Here's another SidewipexFirst Aid ficlet for everyone. The adorable-ness is consuming my muses. Heh.
Title: Tango
Universe: TFP, Event Horizon
Characters: Sideswipe/First Aid, Ratchet, Sunstreaker
Rating: T
Description: Snapshots of a courtship. A failed courtship. Poor Sideswipe.
It's a dance by now. They've memorized all the steps, playing their parts with perfection. Sideswipe teases; First Aid rejects. Over and over and over again.
“No.”
Beside him, chin propped on his hand, Sideswipe winks his optics.
“Why not?” he asks, all pretend innocence.
First Aid doesn't fall for it for even an astrosecond. He tosses the red twin a sidelong glance.
“Because you're not serious,” First Aid replies before dutifully returning his attention to the inventory log.
Sideswipe leans closer, all shiny paint and rumbling vocalizer and enticing energy field.
“What if I am?”
First Aid pointedly steps away. Putting distance between them. Refusing to admit how flustered he is.
“You're not,” he asserts with a frown. “Leave it alone.”
“Sideswipe!” Ratchet bellows from the main room, helm leaning into view as he waves a wrench threateningly. “Stop bothering my apprentice!”
The half-merchant, half-gladiator, all-lover chuckles and draws back.
“Maybe he wants me to bother him,” Sideswipe retorts.
But he does leave Aid in peace. And the junior medic releases a gust of air he hadn't realized he was holding.
o0o0o
He senses Sides coming before the red twin even rounds the corner of the hallway. First Aid has a brief and insane notion to dart into the nearest private room before he stiffens and raises his chin. Like the pit he's going to hide from the likes of Sideswipe.
“Well, if it isn't my favorite medic!” the mech purrs, honing in on First Aid's presence like there's a beacon sitting above the medic's helm.
“No, Sideswipe,” Aid says without breaking a stride.
Sideswipe, predictably, sidesteps into his path. Even weighted down by crates of supplies, he has no problem gracefully getting into First Aid's way.
“But I haven't asked anything yet!” The smile curving Sideswipe's mouth ought to be illegal, the way it implies how much of a good time could be had.
No, no, and no. First Aid's learned his lesson. No more gorgeous bad mechs. No more of the ones that aren't good for him at all. Hot Spot would have his tail pipe. Groove will get that pitying, understanding look in his optics. Streetwise will vow revenge, and Blades will offer to bring the cuffs.
First Aid tries to edge past the relentless merchant. “My answer is still no.”
“You're not the least bit curious?” Sideswipe drawls.
“Not a single iota,” he lies without missing a beat.
Oh, he's curious. Curious and so very tempted. Sideswipe's everything he shouldn't want.
Sideswipe easily shifts into his way yet again. Optics leisurely raking First Aid from helm to pede.
“Y'know, you could seriously use some stress relief.”
Embarrassment wars with indignation. First Aid glares.
Undeterred, the red twin chuckles. “You've been around Ratchet too long,” he teases, shifting the weight of the crates from one hand to the other. “That's pure, Hatch-- Yeargh!”
First Aid's visor shifts into a flat grey in surprise as a golden-plated hand hooks around Sideswipe's helm and jerk down, pulling Sideswipe off balance. He scrambles to gain his footing and nearly drops the crates.
“Come on, loverbot,” Sunstreaker drawls. He nonchalantly drags his brother behind him as he storms down the hall, away from First Aid. “Leave him alone.”
“But!”
In their absence, First Aid shakes his head.
At the very least, he can give Sideswipe credit for his persistence. It's been a vorn. He'd have thought the easily distracted mech would have given up by now.
o0o0o
The sudden appearance of a gleaming cube of energon in front of his optics startles First Aid. He resets his optics, powering up his visor, and stares dully at the near-magenta hue. High grade.
He looks up, following the offered cube to the bot who holds it. First Aid promptly rubs a palm down his faceplate. He is in no mood to indulge the irritating twin's flirtations.
“Not now, Sideswipe.”
“It's high grade.” Sides wiggles the cube enticingly, his tone oddly sober. “You look like you could use it.”
He has a point.
First Aid all but snatches the cube from Sideswipe, then feels guilty for treating him so rudely. Then reminds himself that Sides is the epitome of irritating so he doesn't have to feel guilty about it.
Frag. He really is adopting too much of Ratchet's mannerisms.
He takes a deep drink of the energon – high grade indeed – to wash down his mentor's unhelpful voice and leans back against the wall.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.”
Sideswipe doesn't leave. First Aid doesn't invite him to sit. It's dark here in this corner of the medbay, by virtue of the fact Aid has shut off all but the emergency lights. Out in the main surgery, he can still hear the steady data feed from their surviving patient. It offers little comfort.
He drinks more of the high grade. It's not very comforting either. But it does drown out his processor's attempts to review, critique, and remind him of his failures.
“Want to talk about it?” Sideswipe's vocalizer seems unnaturally loud in the silence.
“No.”
Even though First Aid is radiating go away vibes from all directions, Sideswipe still invites himself to sit down. He eases into a crouch beside the medic, looking uncomfortable but not complaining about it, as Sunstreaker would have.
“Y'know,” he allows, bracing his elbows on his knees, hands dangling loosely between his thighs. “Ratch is a genius when it comes to some things. Others? Not so much.”
First Aid tilts his helm toward the red twin, his visor reflecting confusion.
“He can fix frag near anything,” Sideswipe clarifies with a vague gesture. “Except this.” He taps the side of his helm with the same hand. “I guess that's why he and Sunny work so well. For the most part anyway. They're both emotionally crippled.”
First Aid's fingers flex around his energon cube. That's a bit more about his mentor's relationship with his partner then First Aid wanted to know.
“Does this story have a point?”
Sideswipe's smile is slow, careful. Not at all the care-free curve he tosses at First Aid on an ornly basis.
“It only seems like he shakes it off easily. But he doesn't. He takes every lost patient to spark. Even us idiot gladiators.” He thumps his chestplate, making a dull, hollow thud.
“I'm not ready for this,” First Aid blurts and then draws back, hanging his helm. His energon cube is forgotten.
Sideswipe lowers himself completely, stretching his legs out in front of him.
“I don't think any medic ever is. I got the easy part, y'know. I rip them apart.” He tilts his head as his optics focus on First Aid. “You and Ratch put 'em back together and mourn when you fail.”
It's easier to look away. “I'm supposed to be impartial.”
“Slag and you know it.” Sideswipe grinds a few gears to show just how much he believes that particular piece of medical code. “Impartial medics are the worst kind. Healing's more than just the physical sometimes.”
First Aid looks at the high grade and contemplates the remains of the cube. Sideswipe nudges him with a shoulder, a light clang echoing in the medbay's silence.
“You got what it takes, Aid. Trust me.”
Sideswipe is neither an instructor nor a close friend. He isn't Ratchet or any one of the many bots who had served as First Aid's teachers. Yet, somehow his endorsement seems to carry as much weight. Logically, this makes little sense.
But the shaky smile on First Aid's face is proof of the encouragement's worth.
“Thanks, Sideswipe.”
“Don't mention it.” The red mech gives a blinding grin and pats First Aid on the knee, a surprisingly chaste touch, before he rises to his pedes. “Seriously. Don't. Sunny will tease me without mercy.”
A light chuckle bubbles out of First Aid's vocalizer, accompanied by a genuine smile.
o0o0o
“Aid!”
At the sound of his designation being shouted across the medbay, First Aid nearly drops his welder and definitely scores his patient's leg plating. Luckily, the mech's pain sensors are medically offline, but that's no excuse for poor work on First Aid's part.
“Sorry,” he says and whips a glare over his shoulder, unsurprised to find Sideswipe striding into the main medbay as though it's own personal playground.
“You're looking a bit peaked there,” Sideswipe continues, all a swagger and bright smiles. “Need some help with a polish?”
“No, I don't,” First Aid replies, bending his concentration back to the mech at hand, who would like this bent strut fixed rather soon. “Thank you anyway.”
Sideswipe sidles up beside him. He peers over Aid's shoulder and manages an effective loom.
“You never give me an astrosecond, do you?”
“Because you'd take a parsec, if you could,” First Aid retorts, amusement daring to flicker into his energy field.
Sideswipe leans closer, his own field buzzing with intent. “I’d take anything you'd give me, sweetspark,” he purrs, vocal tones in a lower register that makes First Aid's plating vibrate.
“Is he serious?” Aid's patient asks.
“He's never serious,” the medic retorts and shifts a spare corner of his processor to address Sideswipe. “Anything?”
The red mech seems oblivious to the saccharine-sweetness in Aid's tone. His fingers perform a playful walk down the medic’s right shoulder.
“Whatever you ask of me.”
First Aid grins. “The recycling system needs a flushing. Think you can manage?”
The look on Sideswipe's faceplate is absolutely priceless.
On the other side of the room, Ratchet barks out a laugh.
Sideswipe performs a dramatic stagger backward. “Well played. Are all medics evil or only those in your sphere of influence, Ratch?” He winks an optic at Aid, but his question is directed at Ratchet.
“Watch it or you'll be pulling transport duty next,” the head medic warns, humor lacing his tone. “I've got a nice shipment of supplies coming in soon. Heavy supplies.”
“The horror!” Sideswipe mock-gasps.
First Aid chuckles, finally able to return his attention to his patient now that Sideswipe is sufficiently distracted.
Better luck next time.
***
a/n: Poor Sideswipe. He tries so hard. Luckily, we all know that he later succeeds.
I'm still working on Mirage's. And First Aid's, too.
Feedback is love!
Title: Tango
Universe: TFP, Event Horizon
Characters: Sideswipe/First Aid, Ratchet, Sunstreaker
Rating: T
Description: Snapshots of a courtship. A failed courtship. Poor Sideswipe.
It's a dance by now. They've memorized all the steps, playing their parts with perfection. Sideswipe teases; First Aid rejects. Over and over and over again.
“No.”
Beside him, chin propped on his hand, Sideswipe winks his optics.
“Why not?” he asks, all pretend innocence.
First Aid doesn't fall for it for even an astrosecond. He tosses the red twin a sidelong glance.
“Because you're not serious,” First Aid replies before dutifully returning his attention to the inventory log.
Sideswipe leans closer, all shiny paint and rumbling vocalizer and enticing energy field.
“What if I am?”
First Aid pointedly steps away. Putting distance between them. Refusing to admit how flustered he is.
“You're not,” he asserts with a frown. “Leave it alone.”
“Sideswipe!” Ratchet bellows from the main room, helm leaning into view as he waves a wrench threateningly. “Stop bothering my apprentice!”
The half-merchant, half-gladiator, all-lover chuckles and draws back.
“Maybe he wants me to bother him,” Sideswipe retorts.
But he does leave Aid in peace. And the junior medic releases a gust of air he hadn't realized he was holding.
He senses Sides coming before the red twin even rounds the corner of the hallway. First Aid has a brief and insane notion to dart into the nearest private room before he stiffens and raises his chin. Like the pit he's going to hide from the likes of Sideswipe.
“Well, if it isn't my favorite medic!” the mech purrs, honing in on First Aid's presence like there's a beacon sitting above the medic's helm.
“No, Sideswipe,” Aid says without breaking a stride.
Sideswipe, predictably, sidesteps into his path. Even weighted down by crates of supplies, he has no problem gracefully getting into First Aid's way.
“But I haven't asked anything yet!” The smile curving Sideswipe's mouth ought to be illegal, the way it implies how much of a good time could be had.
No, no, and no. First Aid's learned his lesson. No more gorgeous bad mechs. No more of the ones that aren't good for him at all. Hot Spot would have his tail pipe. Groove will get that pitying, understanding look in his optics. Streetwise will vow revenge, and Blades will offer to bring the cuffs.
First Aid tries to edge past the relentless merchant. “My answer is still no.”
“You're not the least bit curious?” Sideswipe drawls.
“Not a single iota,” he lies without missing a beat.
Oh, he's curious. Curious and so very tempted. Sideswipe's everything he shouldn't want.
Sideswipe easily shifts into his way yet again. Optics leisurely raking First Aid from helm to pede.
“Y'know, you could seriously use some stress relief.”
Embarrassment wars with indignation. First Aid glares.
Undeterred, the red twin chuckles. “You've been around Ratchet too long,” he teases, shifting the weight of the crates from one hand to the other. “That's pure, Hatch-- Yeargh!”
First Aid's visor shifts into a flat grey in surprise as a golden-plated hand hooks around Sideswipe's helm and jerk down, pulling Sideswipe off balance. He scrambles to gain his footing and nearly drops the crates.
“Come on, loverbot,” Sunstreaker drawls. He nonchalantly drags his brother behind him as he storms down the hall, away from First Aid. “Leave him alone.”
“But!”
In their absence, First Aid shakes his head.
At the very least, he can give Sideswipe credit for his persistence. It's been a vorn. He'd have thought the easily distracted mech would have given up by now.
The sudden appearance of a gleaming cube of energon in front of his optics startles First Aid. He resets his optics, powering up his visor, and stares dully at the near-magenta hue. High grade.
He looks up, following the offered cube to the bot who holds it. First Aid promptly rubs a palm down his faceplate. He is in no mood to indulge the irritating twin's flirtations.
“Not now, Sideswipe.”
“It's high grade.” Sides wiggles the cube enticingly, his tone oddly sober. “You look like you could use it.”
He has a point.
First Aid all but snatches the cube from Sideswipe, then feels guilty for treating him so rudely. Then reminds himself that Sides is the epitome of irritating so he doesn't have to feel guilty about it.
Frag. He really is adopting too much of Ratchet's mannerisms.
He takes a deep drink of the energon – high grade indeed – to wash down his mentor's unhelpful voice and leans back against the wall.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.”
Sideswipe doesn't leave. First Aid doesn't invite him to sit. It's dark here in this corner of the medbay, by virtue of the fact Aid has shut off all but the emergency lights. Out in the main surgery, he can still hear the steady data feed from their surviving patient. It offers little comfort.
He drinks more of the high grade. It's not very comforting either. But it does drown out his processor's attempts to review, critique, and remind him of his failures.
“Want to talk about it?” Sideswipe's vocalizer seems unnaturally loud in the silence.
“No.”
Even though First Aid is radiating go away vibes from all directions, Sideswipe still invites himself to sit down. He eases into a crouch beside the medic, looking uncomfortable but not complaining about it, as Sunstreaker would have.
“Y'know,” he allows, bracing his elbows on his knees, hands dangling loosely between his thighs. “Ratch is a genius when it comes to some things. Others? Not so much.”
First Aid tilts his helm toward the red twin, his visor reflecting confusion.
“He can fix frag near anything,” Sideswipe clarifies with a vague gesture. “Except this.” He taps the side of his helm with the same hand. “I guess that's why he and Sunny work so well. For the most part anyway. They're both emotionally crippled.”
First Aid's fingers flex around his energon cube. That's a bit more about his mentor's relationship with his partner then First Aid wanted to know.
“Does this story have a point?”
Sideswipe's smile is slow, careful. Not at all the care-free curve he tosses at First Aid on an ornly basis.
“It only seems like he shakes it off easily. But he doesn't. He takes every lost patient to spark. Even us idiot gladiators.” He thumps his chestplate, making a dull, hollow thud.
“I'm not ready for this,” First Aid blurts and then draws back, hanging his helm. His energon cube is forgotten.
Sideswipe lowers himself completely, stretching his legs out in front of him.
“I don't think any medic ever is. I got the easy part, y'know. I rip them apart.” He tilts his head as his optics focus on First Aid. “You and Ratch put 'em back together and mourn when you fail.”
It's easier to look away. “I'm supposed to be impartial.”
“Slag and you know it.” Sideswipe grinds a few gears to show just how much he believes that particular piece of medical code. “Impartial medics are the worst kind. Healing's more than just the physical sometimes.”
First Aid looks at the high grade and contemplates the remains of the cube. Sideswipe nudges him with a shoulder, a light clang echoing in the medbay's silence.
“You got what it takes, Aid. Trust me.”
Sideswipe is neither an instructor nor a close friend. He isn't Ratchet or any one of the many bots who had served as First Aid's teachers. Yet, somehow his endorsement seems to carry as much weight. Logically, this makes little sense.
But the shaky smile on First Aid's face is proof of the encouragement's worth.
“Thanks, Sideswipe.”
“Don't mention it.” The red mech gives a blinding grin and pats First Aid on the knee, a surprisingly chaste touch, before he rises to his pedes. “Seriously. Don't. Sunny will tease me without mercy.”
A light chuckle bubbles out of First Aid's vocalizer, accompanied by a genuine smile.
“Aid!”
At the sound of his designation being shouted across the medbay, First Aid nearly drops his welder and definitely scores his patient's leg plating. Luckily, the mech's pain sensors are medically offline, but that's no excuse for poor work on First Aid's part.
“Sorry,” he says and whips a glare over his shoulder, unsurprised to find Sideswipe striding into the main medbay as though it's own personal playground.
“You're looking a bit peaked there,” Sideswipe continues, all a swagger and bright smiles. “Need some help with a polish?”
“No, I don't,” First Aid replies, bending his concentration back to the mech at hand, who would like this bent strut fixed rather soon. “Thank you anyway.”
Sideswipe sidles up beside him. He peers over Aid's shoulder and manages an effective loom.
“You never give me an astrosecond, do you?”
“Because you'd take a parsec, if you could,” First Aid retorts, amusement daring to flicker into his energy field.
Sideswipe leans closer, his own field buzzing with intent. “I’d take anything you'd give me, sweetspark,” he purrs, vocal tones in a lower register that makes First Aid's plating vibrate.
“Is he serious?” Aid's patient asks.
“He's never serious,” the medic retorts and shifts a spare corner of his processor to address Sideswipe. “Anything?”
The red mech seems oblivious to the saccharine-sweetness in Aid's tone. His fingers perform a playful walk down the medic’s right shoulder.
“Whatever you ask of me.”
First Aid grins. “The recycling system needs a flushing. Think you can manage?”
The look on Sideswipe's faceplate is absolutely priceless.
On the other side of the room, Ratchet barks out a laugh.
Sideswipe performs a dramatic stagger backward. “Well played. Are all medics evil or only those in your sphere of influence, Ratch?” He winks an optic at Aid, but his question is directed at Ratchet.
“Watch it or you'll be pulling transport duty next,” the head medic warns, humor lacing his tone. “I've got a nice shipment of supplies coming in soon. Heavy supplies.”
“The horror!” Sideswipe mock-gasps.
First Aid chuckles, finally able to return his attention to his patient now that Sideswipe is sufficiently distracted.
Better luck next time.
a/n: Poor Sideswipe. He tries so hard. Luckily, we all know that he later succeeds.
I'm still working on Mirage's. And First Aid's, too.
Feedback is love!
