six_word_stories | (no subject)

I'd find a little more joy in helping people if they weren't getting hurt for stupid, avoidable reasons.

[Rodimus and Whirl come to mind.]

Well then, since you've made your point I guess you have no choice but to let me work in peace.

Hey, you haven't had to repair me in a while!

[It's been a whole few days. ]

Ratchet. We have free will. We always have a choice. And I'm choosing to bring some gratitude and appreciation into your day. [You lucky mech, you.]

I'd hardly consider that an achievement. It ought to be a given.

[He knows it's a long-shot but he can dream.]

Yes, well, I'm choosing to direct your gratitude elsewhere. I'm sure there's someone else you haven't appreciated recently enough. Wouldn't want them to feel left out.

Ratchet. [He draws himself up.] I have a job to do. Sometimes, in my job, I get hurt.

[That's where you come in.]

Oh? What are you working on? [PEERING.]

Your only job is being Third in Command of a spaceship. Nowhere in the handbook does it say that involves being a reckless, self-sacrificing-

[HEY no cutting into his work when he's in the middle of a rant. Just gonna swipe that datapad off to the side.]

You know, in case you weren't aware, patient privacy is a very highly regarded matter in the medical profession.

But, Ratchet. [A little whiny.] I'm not good at that job. I'm better at, you know, fighting injustice.

[And by fighting, he means stabbing and slicing.]

You have mine in there? [He tries to grab the datapad. What secret things does Ratchet write about Drift in his datapad?]

You won't be any good at any job if you keep trying to get yourself killed.

[So disapproving of this vigilante nonsense.]

Of course I- HEY!

[Immediately lunging to grab it back.]

"Patient privacy" happens to include you.

I don't try to get myself killed, Ratchet! [Pearlclutch. ] Someone's gotta do the dangerous work. Why not me?

[Speaking of 'dangerous work', the epic battle for the datapad enters round two. Not getting this away from him THAT easy!]

I'm an open book, Ratchet! What are you hiding?

Maybe because you're too important to put yourself in harm's way- repeatedly- for no real gain.

[Wait, that almost sounded sentimental. Can't have that.]

Rodimus wouldn't know what to do without you. This damn ship is barely holding itself together as is.

[Don't you dare underestimate how hard he is willing to fight over truly petty matters. Including the datapad.]

The only thing I'm hiding is gruesomely detailed scans of every injury you've sustained this whole time we've been out here- I'm really not sure what you're expecting from a medical datapad.

What? [Blink blink clueless blink.] Ratchet, I'm not important. You are. Rodimus is. Ultra Magnus, even. I'm just one of a million soldiers.

[He's not going to refute that stuff about Rodimus. Because he kind of can't. ]

Oh. Ewwww. [Yeah, living through some of his injuries was bad enough. He's not fond of a revisit. He holds the datapad at arm's length.] Including the Red Rust?

[Pot, meet kettle.]

Again, command officer. And the war's over, anyhow, nobody's just one of a million soldiers anymore.

[He'll gladly take the opportunity to snatch that datapad back.]

Of course. You won't believe how much research I collected on what exactly it feels like to have your eyes melt.

[Mostly joking. But not entirely.]

Yeah, but [Uncomfortable wriggle. ] Fighting's the only thing I've ever been good at! Everyone else has civilian jobs they can do. I don't.

[Saddest of sad faces. He doesn't even stop Ratchet from grabbing the datapad back. ]

That's...not really how I want you to remember. [All eyemelty and stuff. ]

Not everyone has a civilian job... and even those who do aren’t exactly well-adjusted enough to work much these days. You’re hardly the only one at a loss of what else there is to do- I get the feeling that’s the only reason there’s more than a handful of us on this very ship.

[Reintegrating to society after a lifetime of war is much more difficult than joining a suicide mission with no real destination.]

Not much else to remember. Believe me, I don’t enjoy thinking about it either.

[Or much else of Delphi, for that matter.]

I know. And that's why I've appointed myself the civilian job of moral support for the head medic.

[Tada!! You're now his job!]

Okay, but while you're not thinking about the Red Rust, do me a favor and double not think about ME and the Red Rust?

Funny, I don't remember hiring you.

[And you're definitely not getting a paycheck.]

...Well, now that you mention it...

[He jokes, but the reality is he thinks of it quite often- it's hard to bring up Drift's tendency for self-sacrifice without thinking of him dragging his half-literal rusting corpse to the rooftop to save Ratchet. He chooses not to bring this up.]

Well, okay, maybe this is the job interview.

[GRIN. He's totally nailing it, right?]

NOOOOOOOO. [What an unflattering image! He wasn't tough or badaft at all in Delphi. He was fine with dying, but not with, you know, melting his way into it. ] I looked--and smelled--gross!

Oh, well, in that case, it isn't going well.

[Preemptively fired.]

Then I guess it's a good thing my entire face was rusting off. Not many visuals to remember.

[Not gonna disagree about the smell, though. And he's half-lying; you started rusting before him so it's not like he wasn't there to see it.]

Why not? I'm cheerful. Hardworking. Loyal. What more could you want?

[Someone who obeys orders? Not his style, Ratchet!]

Phew. Good. Though, I have to admit, you really saved our afts back there.

[That whole solving the mystery thing? Yeah, Drift would never have done that!]

I don't want anything. That's the problem.

[Drift you can't just volunteer yourself for a job position before it even exists.]

I... just know Pharma well.

[Unfortunately.]

But everyone was incredibly collected under pressure. You all did just as fine.

Come on, Ratchet. Everyone wants something. Someone to warm up some energon for you in the morning? Arrange your appointments for the day? Clean up your...uh...whatever this stuff is? [Medical equipment stuff and why does it all look like it goes places he doesn't want to think about?]

Ratchet. You will accept gratitude or....[Or ELSE!]

The fact that you can't even name any of the medical equipment is reason enough not to hire you to work here. In a medical bay.

[Dismissive hand-wave.]

I'm good. Thanks.

Hey I can name all of this stuff. If I wanted.

This? This is a de, uh, deglobbinator. And this is a size six flagellabulator.

A-and this one? Uh, this is Steve.

[Yeah? Yeah? You impressed? ]

[Just. Deadpan staring for several seconds.]

I think you've been spending too much time around Rodimus.

[Hey, he thought he was doing good!]

Well, I could be spending time with you~!

You could... if you had succeeded at the job interview. You know. The one you just failed.