45th Transmission

[heavyweaponsbot]

[When the comm clicks on tonight, there's a long silence, while the speaker debates whether or not he really wants to do this.]

...

Hey.  Ratchet.  You... got a minute?

Top deck.

[And without further ado, Ironhide will be waiting on the top deck.  Watching that crazy old sky up there.]

Comments

[heavyweaponsbot]

[Again, the pole-axed expression. He can't quite seem to wipe it from his face. He fully expected this to end... badly.

But what part of this had been as he expected?

His vocal processor refuses to function as well. Never, in any brief, squashed little fantasy had he ever thought of... anything like this. Never wanted it--it had never been important. And then this place had happened... and all he wanted was to never leave his friend's side.

He doesn't try to say anything--speech has never been his strong suit. Instead, he steps forward again, resting his forehead against the other's.]

You... sure you can deal with me? Until... the end?

[medicalofficer.livejournal.com]

I doubt I would have had a choice - You practically lived in my medbay anyway.

[He chuckles quietly, resting his weight easily against his partner. It was more comfortable than it should have been, but... they deserved some reprieve after so many centuries of war, didn't they?]

Though, I imagine this will make the need for secrecy all the more important.

[If anyone so much as attempted to use him against Ironhide, he would saw their face off - As simple as that.]

[heavyweaponsbot]

[His confused expression is slowly slipping into a grin. He can't control it. And, suddenly, he doesn't care. His arms are around him. He couldn't let him go right now anymore than he could fly.

How did it get to this point? How?

...

Oh. Right. He owed King and the green-haired boy a debt.]

No one has to know. Keep it quiet. Just as before.

[One hand moves up to rest against the other's face.]

Going to have to... remind me how this works. Think it ran out of my processor just now.