Hi everyone; welcome to the Prompt Collection (also available on my AO3 account, see link in my profile). You'll probably find a bit of everything and several continuities (though I mainly do G1 and TFA). I hope you'll enjoy yourself and have a pleasant read. :)
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Miko, Bulkhead, June Darby
Summary: It doesn't take much to make Bulkhead fret...
Prompt: Prime; Miko, Bulkhead, Nurse Darby - Stitches/Sutures
Some days, June Darby couldn't help but worry for the children. The Autobots might have been well-meaning, and the kids, Jack included, very stubborn, but still… Their extraterrestrial allies were fighting in a war! And as a mother, the last thing she wanted was to see young lives snuffed out prematurely because they tended to hang on the sideline.
Today, though, she was fighting down her amusement as she realized, once more, that despite being giant robots from space and soldiers, the Autobots were very much concerned for the safety of their human friends.
"Cool it, big guy," Miko said grumpily, for once annoyed with the way Bulkhead hovered over her, watching her with big worried optics. "I told you, I'm fine!"
"But those things look so… wrong, and painful!" Bulkhead almost whined, optics focused on the red angry line along Miko's forearm. "Are you sure your auto-repair systems are working right? Shouldn't it be healed already? Perhaps I should ask Ratchet to have a look. I know humans injuries aren't his thing, but… Oh, perhaps you should sit down before you faint! Are you cold? Thirsty? Do you want a blanket? Something to drink? I should…!"
"Bulk, those are just stitches," Miko whined too as she tried to push away the green mech - which was rather comical to watch. "Stitches! It's no big deal! It's not even, like, the first time I get some! I'll have them for a week or two, then I'll get them removed! Tell him, Mrs D!" she added as she turned almost pleading eyes toward Jack's mother, who had to hide her laughter behind a cough.
Trust Miko to rush toward a fight without a care and getting out without a single hair out of place, but let her handle a knife for cooking? Now, it seemed it was a recipe for disaster. And a sure way to get her big protector fret over her like a headless chicken.