heavyweaponsbot | 13th Transmission

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13th Transmission

[There are dragging, scraping sounds as the comm clicks on, and they continue throughout the transmission.]

I require...

[A long pause, as if the next part is physically painful to say.]

... a mechanic. And a drink.

[The comm clicks off there, as the speaker continues hauling his broken old aft toward his quarters.]

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...

[He sags a little, against the wall. Not the answer he was hoping for.]

What... is it you want...?

[ Ratchet had no idea how to answer that question. A part of him knew very well what he wanted, though he knew he could never voice it. If one intoxicated experience had made Ironhide claim he hated him, he could not imagine what would happen if he said anything more than that.

But... he didn't want to be without him.

As a friend, of course. That was... what he'd meant. ]

I want you to forgive me. I have no desire to lose my... closest friend on this ship.

[To be perfectly, completely, honest, Ironhide had no idea what he was hoping to hear the other say. Part of him, the part he was fighting to ignore, and failing miserably, wanted Ratchet to push the issue, to want to continue as they had been that night.

Which made the rest of him absolutely terrified in response. He tensed, silent for a long moment before answering in the only way he could.]

I... will not. You... did nothing wrong...

I did.

It... was a mutual decision. I should have realized... that you did not want to.

[ Even if he did.

Somehow, this wasn't getting any easier, by ignoring the feelings behind the matter. It just hurt. ]

[He shakes his head, somewhat ruefully.]

How were you to do that, hmn? Never said no... to any of it.

[Hurt, he could lock away, bury under programming. He could pretend he felt nothing at all. Doing so didn't help anything, ultimately. But they were speaking now, at least.]

Nor did I.

It was I... who suggested it.

[He shakes his head again.]

I should have... put a stop to things. Should not have... harmed you.

You did not harm me.

[ His voice rose again, shaking his head. The experience had been painful, but it was certainly not without its benefits. He had enjoyed it. ]

Do not think that you did.

... Hmnf. Too late for that. Already think so.

[He shrugs, still refusing to so much as look at him. He can't--as much as he admittedly enjoyed... things... he can't help but think the other was harmed as a result.]

You did not. If it was intolerable, I would have told you to stop - Or do you think me so submissive?

[He actually snorts at that, the closest he's come to laughing in a long time.]

... no. You and... that word do not... belong in the same vocal pattern.

Then why do you feel that it was your decision alone?

[ He rests his weight on one hip, crossing his arms. ]

It was a mutual choice.

[He shrugs, not particularly wanting to get into a discussion of their respective positions... and how... he had a bit more control over certain aspects of the Incident. At least in his thick skull.]

Whatever. It... will never happen again. That is... important.

...

[ He nods solemnly, not wanting to say much more on the subject, despite the pang he felt at the words.

Had he truly been so horrible? ]

As you have said.

[He would rather end the discussion here. But he doesn't... know if they've helped anything, or just made things worse.

Because somehow, this hurts worse.]

...

Fine then.

... What did you want me to do?

[ He can't help but feel this would only make the situation more awkward, to constantly be on edge that he may have offended or pushed too close. It had been so much clearer that night. ]

...

[He is silent for some time, pulling air into his intakes. What does he want the other to do? He doesn't honestly know. What will make it worse, and what will fix it?

Can anything make it worse, at this point?]

I... do not know.

... Very well. Inform me when you do, please.

...

I am sorry. All right? I do not know what to want you to do!

I was not asking for apology. But I honestly do not know what you expect, when you refuse to acknowledge that what occurred was partially my desire as well.

...

You... wanted... that to happen? Thought you said it was alcohol and... hormones.

[ ... Slag. ]

... That... was not what I had meant.

[He simply stares at him for a long... long moment.]

... You did.

[ It's his turn to look at the floor, not entirely sure how to respond to that. Without flat out lying, that is. ]

... It is not my intention to make you more uncomfortable.

[He wants to tell him to get out. But every time he tries to form the words, he can't. He can only stare at him, his expression blank.]

...

Too late for that.

[He regrets saying that as soon as he finishes.]

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